by Tee O'Fallon
“Can you have your sketch artist at the station tomorrow?” Dayne wanted to get a picture of the guy before Kat started forgetting details.
Paulson grunted. “Unlike the great and powerful FBI, most humble police departments such as ours don’t have sufficient funding to retain a sketch artist at their beck and call.”
“I’ll take care of it.” The local FBI office did have a sketch artist. “I’ll also make sure Kat gets to the station tomorrow.”
“You’ll make sure?” Paulson took a step closer, trying to get in Dayne’s face. Good luck with that. The man was at least five inches shorter than Dayne’s six-four. “Don’t forget, Feeb, she’s my witness.”
Remy inserted herself between them, growling low in her throat as she glared up at the detective. When Paulson leaped back, Dayne couldn’t prevent the not-so-tiny smirk quirking his lips.
“Easy, girl.” He leaned down to rest his hand on Remy’s head. To Paulson, he said, “She’s also an FBI witness.”
Paulson gave Remy a cautionary glance. “How do you figure that?”
“Retired or not, Becca Garman will always be FBI, so like it or not, you just got yourself a new partner for the duration of this investigation. Remy, let’s go.” He didn’t miss the look of resentment on Paulson’s face.
Tough shit, dude.
Two minutes later, he parked behind two police cruisers in the castle’s driveway. Rain still fell but had finally begun to ease.
He gave Remy a quick chin rub, then grabbed the bag of Angus’s toys he’d retrieved from where he’d dropped them outside the Haven. The kibble, unfortunately, was a soggy mess that he’d disposed of in a dumpster. He left the SUV running with its heat vents directed toward the kennel so his K-9’s thick coat would start to dry. He didn’t like leaving Remy in the vehicle, but her coat was a mess and she smelled exactly like what she was. A wet dog.
The window on one of the cruisers rolled down, and he badged himself to the young cop. “FBI Special Agent Andrews. Is your partner inside?”
“Yeah.” The cop, who looked no more than fifteen but had to be at least twenty-one, jerked his thumb to the house. “But I’m not sure for how long. His wife just went into labor. It’s their first kid. We’re trying to get a replacement so he can leave.”
Dayne grinned. Two of his best friends, Matt Connors and Nick Houston, had recently become fathers and they were happier than pigs in shit. “I’m going in. Notify your partner, will ya?”
“Ten-four.”
Dayne understood the other cop needing to hightail it to the hospital. If he and Britt had married, they might have had several kids by now. He’d have walked through fire and brimstone to be at her side for every birth. But Britt had taken off and never looked back.
At the top step, a red light lodged in a corner of the roof caught his eye. A security camera. Tomorrow, he’d do a thorough inspection of the entire system. Maybe he’d even call Kade for an assist.
Before hiring on with Homeland Security, Kade Sampson had been a security system specialist. Kade was a master at installing systems while Dayne was an expert at getting past them, a trade he’d learned as a kid on the streets of Newark. If they hadn’t gone the law enforcement route, they could have started their own company and made a mint.
He assumed Kat had long since gone to bed. Not wanting to wake her by using the church organ doorbell, he knocked softly. Another cop, this one in his early thirties and wearing a pin that said T. Morales, answered the door with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Honey, I’ll be there as soon as my relief shows up.” Morales closed the door after Dayne stepped inside.
Angus bounded into the foyer, his ears flapping against the sides of his head. In his mouth was the same gnarly chew toy. Dayne knelt and scratched the puppy’s ears. He emptied the bag of toys on the floor, expecting Angus to dive right in. Instead he maintained a firm grip on the ratty one in his mouth, ignoring all the other options, which included a black puppy Kong, a rope with a ball on one end, and a blue stuffed animal with bulging yellow eyes, the species of which was unidentifiable.
“Congratulations.” He stood when the cop pocketed his phone. “Your first?”
“Yeah.” Morales grinned, but the smile quickly morphed into a frown as he glanced at his watch. “My wife will have my balls on a platter if I don’t get my ass to the hospital ASAP.”
Angus scampered off.
“When’s your replacement due?” Gurgling sounds floated into the foyer, the kind made by a coffeepot.
“They won’t say.” Morales dragged a hand down his face, looking desperate.
Dayne’s only experience with kids was with his niece and nephew, but that didn’t make him immune to the cop’s predicament. “How is Ka—Miss Vandenburg—doing?”
“She’s okay, I guess. She’s upstairs, but still awake.” Something buzzed, and Morales pulled out his phone and began reading a text.
Angus bumped his toy against Dayne’s knee. He tugged it from the puppy’s mouth and tossed it for him to chase after.
He followed Angus into an enormous library paneled in dark wood. Three more crystal chandeliers, each the size of a small Chevy, dangled over his head. He didn’t know much about rugs, but the floor was littered with them. Thick red and blue ones. The rugs alone probably cost thousands.
The place really was over the top. There had to be at least thirty rooms but no big screen or beat-up leather chair for watching baseball and football.
His boots clumped as he walked into another room that made his heart sing. A full-size pool table took up most of the room. No dart board on the wall, though. Instead every inch of wall was covered with paintings of men and women glaring down at him. Kat’s ancestors?
Dayne arched a brow. He didn’t know who his own father was, let alone any of his ancestors. Hell, he’d barely known his own mother.
Hushed cursing drew him back to the foyer where Morales held his cell to his ear again. “Yes, sir. I understand.” The cop ended the call, looking about as sad sack as a guy could get.
Clearly, getting a replacement was still a no-go. Dayne exhaled a long breath. As much as it killed him, the brotherhood demanded he do it. “I’ll stay here in your place.”
Morales jerked his head up, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Seriously?” Dayne nodded and the cop’s grin broadened. “Just let me run it by my CO.”
A minute later, Morales got the green light to beat feet and Dayne was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. The other cop was still outside in his patrol car.
A vase on the end of the island held a bunch of slightly wilted pink roses. Already bored, he counted the flowers. Eleven, not a dozen as he’d expected.
A creak came from the staircase and Angus scampered off with his rubber chew toy. Dayne set the mug on the counter, resting his hand on his Glock. He stepped quietly into the living room to find Kat kneeling, stroking Angus’s ears. She’d changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt and now wore a long purple robe.
The puppy dropped the chew toy and stood on his hind legs, begging to be picked up. She cooed to him, dropping gentle little kisses on the top of his head, the same way a mother would kiss a child. Apparently, like his K-9, Kat had a maternal streak a mile wide. And this puppy wasn’t even hers.
“You are so cute. I wish I could keep you.” When Angus landed a puppy lick to her face, she smiled.
He’d seen her smile before, but not like this. This one was genuine. The other times, they’d been perfunctory and then only because protocol dictated it.
Angus yipped, and Kat reached down to scoop him into her arms. When she rose, she sucked in a tight breath. Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips compressed, but she didn’t let go of the puppy.
“Are you all right?” Any idiot could see she wasn’t.
She spun to face him, wide-eyed. Neither of them
uttered a word. He couldn’t say why she was speechless, but he knew why he was. Whatever material that robe was made of clung to a set of long, shapely legs, defining every sleek muscle.
“Agent Andrews, what are you doing here?”
“Call me Dayne.” It seemed silly not to when he’d been using her first name all this time. “Morales—the cop who was here—had to leave. His wife just went into labor.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Again, she smiled, but pain rimmed the tight lines of her mouth, and only then did he notice how red her eyes were. “And you took his place? How noble.”
Was there a touch of sarcasm behind her words? Maybe. Then again, she was one of the most polite people he’d ever met.
One of Angus’s tiny paws rested on her collarbone. He sobered at the pale pink marks on her neck. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”
“I don’t like hospitals.” She went past him into the kitchen.
“Nobody does.”
“My parents died there.”
“I’m sorry.” Man, he couldn’t seem to say anything right around her. “What happened?”
“Plane crash. I was sixteen, but I remember everything. The awful hospital smell. The sadness. The terrible loneliness. The—” She stopped, as if she hadn’t meant to confess something so personal. “It’s just something I never forgot. Since then, the only times I go to a hospital are for charity events.”
“Understandable.” As favorite places to visit went, hospitals were at the rock bottom of his list, too. “Why aren’t you asleep?” He thought he knew the answer but needed to hear her say it.
She leaned against one end of the counter. “Like you said, finding a dead body, let alone two in one day, would mess with anyone’s head.”
He gave her an assessing look. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything?”
“Are you suggesting that finding two women—one of whom was my friend—dead doesn’t bother me in the slightest?” Her voice trembled at the reference to Amy Thorpe. When Angus wriggled in her arms, she hissed in a breath.
“No. What I’m suggesting is that you’re in pain. Emotional and physical.” He lifted Angus from her arms, and as he did, one of his hands brushed against her breast. Her eyes widened. His did, too, but not because he’d accidentally touched her inappropriately. The puppy’s paw had caught on the collar of the robe, tugging it from her shoulder and revealing an ugly bruise the size of a grapefruit.
He ground his jaw, angry as hell at the fucker who’d done this. Angrier still that he and Remy hadn’t gotten to the Haven a few seconds sooner.
Dayne set the puppy on the floor then crossed his arms, watching her draw the robe back in place. “You’ve got two choices. Either you let me take you to the hospital right now to get that shoulder looked at, or you let me examine you.”
“You?” She tightened the robe around her torso.
Yeah, he didn’t think she’d like that idea.
“Does your expertise include medical training?”
“Actually, it does. In another life, I was a paramedic and pre-med.”
Her brows rose. He hadn’t noticed before that they were slightly darker than her hair. She sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” She had to have meant the hospital. Right?
She swallowed. “I’ll let you examine me.”
Fuck. He’d only given her the ultimatum to force her into seeing a doctor to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. She really must hate hospitals.
Kat had more guts than he’d given her credit for. She’d called his bluff, leaving him no choice.
Time to play doctor.
Chapter Six
Kat swallowed again as she untied the belt. They were alone in the house and once she removed her robe, the only thing she’d have on was the matching silk and lace nightie that barely covered her thighs. But going to a hospital was scarier than having a man she barely knew—and who wasn’t a doctor—examine her.
Her vision blurred, and she blinked. Amy was probably in a hospital morgue by now, lying on a cold metal table and draped with a white sheet. Alone. Cold. And dead. Try not to think about it. But it was all she thought about.
“Kat?” Dayne’s voice cut through her morbid thoughts.
If she didn’t let him do his doctor thing, she didn’t doubt for one second that he’d make good on his threat to take her to the hospital.
She let the robe slip from her shoulders. Before she could catch it, the garment slithered down her legs to the floor. He tracked the movement, although she couldn’t be certain if he was looking at the robe or taking in her nearly naked body, and oh shit. Her nipples tingled, and she crossed her arms over her breasts to cover the hard little buds. Her body had a mind of its own that clearly wasn’t connected to her brain.
Dayne stepped closer. “I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said gruffly. “Tell me if I do, and I’ll stop.”
She nodded, giving him a nervous smile. “I’m in your hands, Doctor Dayne.”
He clasped her wrist with one hand, resting his other on her shoulder, readying to gently manipulate her arm when she gasped.
He jerked his hand away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She uttered a tight laugh. “Your hands are cold.”
His big body relaxed, and relief seemed to wash over him. He rubbed his hands together several times before placing them back on her shoulder and wrist. His now warm fingers were rough and calloused, yet his touch unexpectedly gentle, as if he were caressing a fragile piece of glass. “Better?” he asked.
“Um, yes.” Her shoulder had been aching and throbbing to the point where she couldn’t sleep. Now all she felt was the army of goose bumps racing across every inch of her skin. Funny how she’d never gotten those goose bumps from Chad’s touch.
He manipulated her arm and shoulder in different directions then abruptly dropped his hands and took an awkward step back. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but the only way to confirm that is with X-rays. Did you take anything for the pain?”
“Yes. It didn’t help.”
“I can see why.” He dipped his head to the ugly bruise that had pretty much doubled in size in the last hour. “Do you have an ice pack?”
“In the freezer.” She nodded to the stainless steel Thermidor against the far wall. “Emily and I keep several in there in case we pull something during kickboxing.”
He practically bolted to the freezer then jerked open the door with what seemed like more force than necessary. The ice packs were staring him in the face on one of the shelves, but he didn’t grab one right away. He stood there with his broad back to her, his entire body frozen like a block of ice.
A long moment passed before he grabbed one of the packs then shut the freezer door. He held the pack out to her, maintaining so much distance between them it was obviously intentional. “Hold this to your shoulder for twenty minutes, three times a day for the next forty-eight hours.”
“Thank you.” She took the ice pack, taking extra care not to touch his hand. What was that about? One minute they’d been getting along fine—not that she cared, not really, anyway—the next, he acted as if she had the cooties.
She pressed the ice pack against the bruise, flinching as it made contact. “I told Detective Paulson I’ll be hiring a security guard company first thing in the morning. That way, neither the police department nor the FBI will have to shoulder the burden of my safety.”
His brows met. “Your safety is not a burden.”
“Then why do you look physically ill?”
“Do I?” He shoved one hand in his pocket, making his biceps bunch.
“You do.” A little, anyway.
“I’m not.” A muscle in his cheek ticked. “And, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t believe in coincidence, and you shouldn’t, either. In case it’s escaped your attention, the
re’s a connection between the two victims.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” She crossed her arms, inadvertently plumping her breasts against the lacy cups of her nightie then quickly uncrossing them. “What’s the connection?”
“You,” he said softly. “You were at both locations. So, like it or not, you now have round-the-clock protection, and I’m not talking about some rent-a-cop agency.”
She advanced on him until she was a foot away. “Then what are you talking about?”
“Me.” He pushed from the counter, closing the gap to a few inches. “Until this investigation is over, you don’t go anywhere without me glued to your six.”
She snorted. “Is that alpha male jargon for glued to my ass?”
“It means you’re stuck with me, twenty-four seven.”
It took another few seconds for the full meaning of his intentions to take root. “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not happening.” Not with him, anyway. One night was fine, but having him around all the time would drive her—and her body—crazy.
“Security guard companies hire inexperienced cheap labor. They can’t protect you from this kind of violence. If this guy attacks again, by the time your security team dials 911… You’ll. Be. Dead.” His voice had turned hard.
Chills snaked over her body, and it had nothing to do with the ice pack.
“We can’t be certain, but whoever tried to kill you may try again. We don’t know if this was a crime of opportunity or something else. But you’ve seen his face. The fact that he came here after killing Becca tells me he’s persistent and won’t stop until he has whatever he’s after.”
Dayne didn’t want to be there but was willing to stay just to keep her safe. Two people were dead. An FBI agent and her own friend. An uncontrollable shudder swept through her. Poor Amy. How would her husband and children get through this? Because dead was dead, and there was no bringing Amy back.
As if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, the truth of Dayne’s words kicked in with brilliant clarity. I really could be next.
