Page 15 of Lock ’N’ Load

A soft, furry head nuzzled her leg, and she reached down to scoop the Angora into her arms. Big blue eyes stared back at her from a pure-white face. “Poofy, you must be starving.”

Despite her own stomach being empty, she had no appetite. She fed Poofy, then washed up and slipped into her favorite cotton nightshirt.

Exhaustion pervaded her entire body. Her limbs were suddenly boneless, and she all but fell into bed. When Poofy jumped on the mattress and snuggled next to her, she could barely lift her arm to give him his usual good-night scratch behind the ears. When she did, her hand trembled.

Why me?

Why had she been singled out?

She could have died tonight. Alone. In the woods. If Matt and Sheba hadn’t come along…

The trembling in her hand spread to her arm, and suddenly her whole body shook as everything came back to her with vivid clarity.

One of the man’s arms had banded her chest, the other tight around her neck, holding the knife to her throat. When he’d been dragging her across the pavement, he’d laughed. She hadn’t remembered that before. The bastard hadn’t said anything, but he’d laughed. Then they were in the woods, and the knife bit into her skin. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, and—

“Breathe,” she whispered. “Just breathe.” She took in slow, even breaths, trying to stave off another asthma attack.

Poofy’s soft fur beneath her fingers soothed her, and she focused on his steady purr until the trembling lessened and the growing tightness in her chest dissipated.

The numbers on her bedside clock were blurry, but she could still make them out in the dark. It was nearly three a.m. In a few hours, the alarm would go off, and she’d be back at work. Assuming Matt would be there as well, she’d have to find a way to avoid him when she went through security. The last thing she wanted was to have a discussion with him again about filing that report with the agency.

Tucking Poofy closer against her offered some measure of comfort.

She thought again about Matt. Funny, but he’d had his arms around her twice in the past twenty-four hours, and both times, she’d felt completely protected and safe.

Trista grinned sleepily, but her last thought before drifting off wiped the grin from her face.

What if the attack wasn’t random?

What if he tries to kill me again?

Chapter Four

“What is she doing at work only five hours after getting attacked?” Matt said to Sheba as he watched Trista deliberately get into the longer of the two employee lines—the one he wasn’t stationed at. “And she’s avoiding us.”

Sheba’s ears flicked, and she dipped her head, as if in agreement.

“Why would she do that, girl?”

Sheba let out a soft snort followed by a series of low whines. She did that whenever he talked to her, as if they were carrying on an actual conversation. Which, they were.

Narrowing his gaze, he tracked Trista’s progress in the other line, realizing she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Not that he was surprised. The frames had been pretty mangled. She must have contact lenses in, and he wondered why she didn’t wear them more often. She was beautiful wearing glasses. Without them…she was a knockout.

When she finally got to the checkpoint, she shoved her ID into the reader and punched in her code. No sooner had the plexiglass doors whooshed open than she cast him a furtive look and took off like a shot to the elevator bank.

What the hell is that about?

People’s voices echoed in the lobby as he yawned and dragged a hand down his face. “Women,” he muttered, shaking his head. It could be he’d never dated one long enough to figure out the way their minds worked.

“You look like shit, Connors,” Buxton McIntyre, aka Buck, his boss and head of Langley’s security division, said as he came to stand beside him. Though the man was a full six inches shorter, he had the presence of a Great Dane in a room full of Chihuahuas.

Matt nodded a greeting to several employees passing through the checkpoint. “Feel like it.” He’d only managed a few hours’ sleep before reporting in for duty.

“From what I read in your report,” Buck said, “sounds like you had a late night.”

Stifling another yawn, he nodded. “And then some.” He’d written up a quick report for Buck before coming on duty, and he’d also left a message for Jake Sorensen to email over the police report.

“We’ll discuss it at the meeting after lunch. That should give Ms. Gold time to file her own incident report. Make sure to attach the PD’s report to hers.”