Lock 'N' Load (Federal K-9 Series)

by Tee O'Fallon

  Wayne opened his mouth, then closed it. A glimmer of something she couldn’t identify came to his eyes, but then he yanked open the door and left without another word.

  Again, Genevieve’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “This will all be over soon. You’ll be back at work in no time.” Then she turned and followed Wayne.

  As Trista watched the door close behind Genevieve, tears pricked her eyes, irritating the contact lenses she’d been forced to wear.

  “Aw, honey.” Bonnie guided Trista back to her desk, forcing her into her chair.

  Kevin came over and sat on the corner of her desk. “Sorry, Tris. I’ve never seen Wayne act like that. Guy’s got a bug up his ass about something.”

  “Yeah, but what?” Bonnie frowned. “And what incident are they talking about? What happened?”

  Letting her head fall forward, Trista moaned, then told Bonnie and Kevin everything.

  “Oh my God.” Bonnie’s mouth gaped open. “That’s why there’s a Band-Aid on your neck? You could have been killed. You should have told us about this when you came in this morning, and taken at least a day or two off after an experience like that.”

  “We’re your friends, Trista.” Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his fingers on his pocket protector. “You should have called us last night.”

  “I’m sorry.” Trista shut her eyes, wishing she could erase everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She knew her friends were only expressing their concern, but her head was seriously starting to pound. “After it was all over, it was late and I was so tired, I practically passed out the second my head hit the pillow.”

  Kevin narrowed his eyes. “And you have no idea why this guy attacked you?”

  “Well, I can guess.” Trista shuddered at the truth. He was either going to rape her, kill her, or both. She supposed there was a remote—albeit very remote—possibility that the attack had something to do with her job, but she hadn’t been working on anything dangerous, not even earlier in the chat room. Certainly it hadn’t been anything to kill her over.

  Bonnie gave her a sympathetic smile, then pressed her hand over her heart. “Sgt. Connors saved your life. That is so heroic.”

  “Give me a break.” Kevin glared at Bonnie, and she glared back.

  Watching the wordless exchange between her friends made Trista smile. Kevin was jealous, and he didn’t even realize it.

  Returning his gaze to Trista, Kevin resumed his tapping his pocket protector. “Sounds like whatever’s in that report triggered something in-house.”

  “The police report, or Sgt. Connors’s incident report?” Bonnie asked.

  Trista’s head pounded even worse now. She hadn’t thought of that. “Good question. It’s one I intend to find the answer to.”

  Pushing up from the chair, she stormed out the door into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from others she passed on the way to the elevator. During the entire ride to the ground floor, she clenched and unclenched her fists.

  When the doors opened, she charged across the lobby to the security office. Ava, the administrative assistant Trista had met on occasion during agency Christmas parties, smiled as she looked up.

  “Ms. Gold, glad to see you’re okay after last night.”

  “Thank you,” she managed politely. Stemming her rising temper, she took a deep breath. “I’d like to see the police report and Ma—Sgt. Connors’s report on my, uh, incident.”

  “I just made you and your supervisor a copy.” Ava handed her a manila envelope. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled out the contents and read Detective Sorensen’s report first. At the bottom of the form, she noted the detective’s assessment. Assailant unknown. Random attack presumed. Then she read Matt’s report.

  At first glance, she was impressed by the detail and his manner of writing. Clear, concise, and to the point. But when she got to his assessment of the incident, she understood why her clearance had been revoked.

  At the bottom of the agency form was a question requiring the reporting officer to indicate whether the incident had any connection with agency business. There were three possible answers: Yes, No, and Unknown. Matt had checked off the Unknown box.

  Bastard. She wanted to call him worse, but cursing had been drilled out of her by her mother at a very young age.

  He’d had no justifiable reason to say that, and because of that one checkmark, her rock—her lifeline—had been snatched away. She resisted the urge to scream at the top of her lungs and, with shaking hands, carefully placed the reports back into the envelope.

  “Where is he?” she asked Ava, proud of herself for keeping the rising anger from her voice.

  “Who, dear?” Ava looked up at her with raised brows.

  She clenched her teeth. “Sgt. Connors.”

  “He’s in the gym.” Ava pointed through the security office opening to the doors across the lobby.

  “Thank you.” She plastered on a smile she didn’t feel in the slightest, then spun and charged across the lobby.

  With every click of her short heels on the granite floor, her temper flared hotter. By the time she reached the double doors outside the fitness center, her heart thumped faster, keeping rhythm with her rising anger. She paused before holding her ID card to the reader on the wall, uncertain whether her clearance revocation included access to certain locations as well. Even if it meant kicking the door in, she’d gain entry if it was the last thing she did.

  Time was ticking down on her thirty minutes. But before she vacated the building, she fully intended to give Sgt. Connors a piece of her mind.

  When she held her ID to the reader, the light blinked green and the door clicked. She pushed the door open and was assailed by the smell of the black rubber mats and blaring music.

  The gym was empty, save for one person: Matt. At the far end, he lay with his back on a weight bench, pressing a barbell loaded with huge circular weights at each end. With quick, angry strides, she charged forward.

  The barbell clattered as he set it on the rack, then he stood and grabbed a bottle of water from another bench. As he lifted the bottle and drank, she froze, her gaze traveling down then up his body.

  Black sweats covered his long legs. A sleeveless, sweat-soaked gray T-shirt with the words Alexandria PD on the front clung to his chest, outlining finely honed, incredibly cut pecs and abs. Sweat glistened on bulging biceps as he held the bottle to his mouth.

  She watched, fascinated at the way his throat worked as he swallowed half the bottle. When he lowered it and caught sight of her standing there, the corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, easy grin.

  Pressing her lips together, Trista gripped the manila envelope even tighter in her hand and stormed over to the radio, cranking the volume off. When she turned back to Matt, he was no longer smiling. As she stalked toward him, he set the bottle back on the bench, canting his head, eyeing her suspiciously.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her pulse beat wildly in her ears. She threw the envelope at his chest. “How could you?” She gritted her teeth. “How could you put down Unknown? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  He stepped closer, towering over her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Pointing her finger at him, she poked at his chest, somehow noting through the depths of her rage how hard it was. “Because of your report, my clearance was revoked. I’m banned from work. Banned from the whole frigging building because of you.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he scowled at her. “Because of me? I doubt that. I wasn’t the asshole that attacked you.”

  Her voice rose, and it took everything she had not to pick up a weight and throw it at him. “You took everything from me. If I can’t work, I have nothing. Nothing! Do you hear me?” Again, she jabbed at his chest.

  His jaw went hard, anger flashing in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and even. “I had a duty to report the incident as I saw it. Maybe,” he added, leaning in unti
l she could feel the heat from his body, “if you’d returned one of the messages I left for you, you would have seen this coming.”

  “Seen this coming?” Widening her eyes, she took a step back, so angry now she was quivering. “Why did you have to file a report at all? I would have filed one.” Eventually. Maybe. Probably.

  “Doesn’t matter. I have a duty to file my own report. You didn’t know that, did you?” He took another step toward her, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. “You had no intention of reporting what happened last night, and you damned well know it.”

  Lowering her gaze, she focused on his chest. His broad, heavily muscled chest. He was right, but that wasn’t the point.

  “Look, Tris.” His tone softened. “You were attacked. You could have been killed, and we don’t know for certain if it was a random attack, or something else. I’m sure as hell not gonna lie on a report just because it pisses you off. I checked Unknown because that’s what I believe to be true.”

  She parked her fists on her hips, refusing to back down. “You had to know it could impact my clearance. It’s happened before, to another analyst.”

  “I don’t give a shit if it happened to a hundred analysts before you. If I think there’s even a remote chance of a threat to the agency, or to you, it’s my duty to report it. I won’t lie just because you don’t like the truth.”

  She shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly, willing the flood of fury shooting through her to calm. Somehow, she knew he was right, but he’d just sent her entire world tilting on its axis, and she couldn’t handle it.

  Letting out a soft breath, she covered her mouth with her hand. The rage and fury seething within her fled like air from a popped balloon. Then, to her horror, tears pricked her eyes. Before she could stop it, she was gulping down air, but it didn’t help.

  “Are you—” Matt halted in midsentence. “Oh, no.” He began shaking his head. “Hell no. Don’t you dare cry on me.”

  She couldn’t help it. The tears began to fall, and she couldn’t stop them. The next thing she knew, Matt uttered a groan and his arms were around her, pulling her against his chest.

  Intending to shove him away from her, she clenched her fists, but then his hands were on her back, making gentle, soothing motions, and it felt too good to move. She clutched at his damp shirt, digging her fingers into his flesh through the soft fabric.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his lips grazing the top of her head, then her temples. “Everything will work out okay. I’m sure of it.”

  Still holding fast to his shirt, she took a series of short breaths, trying to rein in her meltdown. She hoped he was right, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. Until further notice, the one thing that meant more in the world to her than anything else had been cruelly taken from her.

  “I’m sorry, Tris. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  He pulled away enough that she could look up at his face. It was only then that she noticed the tiny gold flecks floating in the midst of his deep brown eyes.

  When her mouth opened, his gaze dipped, and he bent his head. His lips brushed hers, softly at first, then with more pressure. Without realizing she was doing it at first, she kissed him back.

  With a groan, he sifted his fingers through her hair, covering her mouth with his. His lips were warm and soft, his touch gentle. Using light pressure, he urged her lips open with his tongue.

  Biting back a soft cry, she opened her mouth. The instant his tongue tangled with hers, her body trembled with need, and she clutched at him tighter. Cupping her nape, he deepened the kiss, angling her head, massaging her neck with long, strong fingers. His taste on her tongue was so new, she couldn’t find the words to describe it. It was hot and wonderful, stirring up a fiery, passion-fueled craving she’d never experienced before.

  His hand skated across her back, leaving a trail of delicious tingles on her skin, and still his tongue sought hers again and again. An unfamiliar ache started low in her belly, uncurling, blooming into something she did understand. Desire.

  The hunger in her belly spread lower, hotter, until something inside her snapped, unleashed like a wild animal sensing freedom for the first time.

  She molded herself against Matt, when he abruptly pulled away, thrusting her from him. His mouth was open, and his nostrils flared as he drew in heavy breaths. As he watched her, she glimpsed the heat in his gaze morph into something else. Regret.

  “Fuck.” He tightened his jaw. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

  His words were like a slap to the face. Here she was, her body quivering with the absurd and inexplicable need to kiss him again, and he’d told her unceremoniously that she was a mistake.

  Backing away, she glared at him. “I’m no one’s mistake.”

  “C’mon,” he said as he reached for her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Evading his grasp, she glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped. The half hour Wayne had given her was nearly up. If she didn’t get back upstairs and collect her things quickly, she might be tossed from the building like a common criminal.

  “Whatever,” she lied then brushed past him and walked calmly to the doors, resisting the urge to run. Once outside in the lobby, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Placing her fingers on her lips, she couldn’t help remembering how his lips had felt on hers. How he’d tasted on her tongue.

  But kissing her had been a mistake?

  He’d actually said that. Curling her fists, she pushed from the door and headed to the elevators, where she punched the up button with far more force than necessary.

  Matt might regret kissing her, but he’d made her body experience things she’d never imagined. New things. Exciting things.

  Every square inch of her rational brain told her she shouldn’t, but she wanted those things again.

  With him.

  Chapter Six

  Why the hell did I kiss her?

  Matt stomped on the gas pedal. Behind him, Sheba let out a gruff sound of annoyance as she struggled for balance on the bench.

  “Sorry, girl.” He held his hand to the cage opening until she leaned her head into his palm. Stroking her velvety ears normally soothed him during the drive home after a rough day. Not today.

  He’d been an ass and a shithead to kiss Trista, and he still couldn’t come up with an acceptable reason for doing it.

  To stop her from crying?

  Initially, yes. The sight of her tears twisted his guts like nothing else.

  Or to take her mind off getting her clearance revoked?

  Maybe. No, that was bullshit.

  He cranked the wheel, turning onto the road that ran in front of the Moose. He knew damned well why he’d kissed her. He just hated admitting it to himself.

  I kissed her because I fucking wanted to. Needed to.

  The plan had been to hold her, comfort her, knowing he was partly to blame for her losing her clearance, but when she’d looked up at him with those watery green eyes, his brain had detached from his body and the next thing he knew, he was tasting her beautiful, rosy lips. Just a quick taste, and then he’d stop. Or so he’d told himself. But when she’d kissed him back, he lost control and his inner-asshole had asserted itself. And he’d liked kissing her. A lot. It had felt too good, and that was the real reason he’d stopped. He didn’t deserve to feel anything that good in his life. Not since the night his drunken stupidity had gotten his best friend killed.

  This was his self-imposed penance. Jerry wouldn’t get to feel anything good ever again, so neither should he. Including kissing Trista Gold. Because kissing her had by far been the best thing he’d experienced in years.

  “Goddammit.” Goddammit to hell and back.

  Braking for a red light, he slapped his other hand back on the wheel. If only she hadn’t kissed him back. Didn’t matter. Taking advantage of a woman who was upset, and who’d just been attacked the night before and was undoubtedly vulnerable, made him the biggest shithe
ad on the planet. Worse, with her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest, it had been impossible not to ogle her assets. Again making him a royal shithead.

  As the light turned green, he stepped on the gas. He’d noticed she stammered when talking to him but not other guys. What the hell is that about? But when she’d been chewing his ass out in the fitness center, she hadn’t stammered once. She’d given him a piece of her mind and then some. Never again would he be taken in by her shy, demure exterior, not when he’d had a run-in with the fiery hellcat hiding within.

  He shot past the Moose, hazarding a glance at the wooded area behind the restaurant’s parking lot. Jake had assured him uniforms had scoured the area for evidence both that night and in the morning when it was light out. But they didn’t have Sheba.

  Yawning, he noticed a few heavy raindrops hitting the windshield. The forecast was for a heavy downpour within the hour. He took his foot off the gas pedal.

  Was it worth a second look?

  It was a long shot, but after tonight’s rain, there’d be no chance at all of picking up a scent.

  Checking ahead and behind for traffic, he hung a 180 and pulled into the restaurant’s lot, parking adjacent to the curb edging the woods where Trista had been attacked. He wanted Sheba to try to find a scent in the same location. Shutting off the engine, he got out and popped the side door button. Normally, he’d keep Sheba on the leash, but rain was coming down harder by the second.

  “Hledej oznac.” Her ears twitched, then she leaped out and bounded onto the pavement. Without him needing to point, the dog immediately put her nose to the area where Matt had tackled the POS to the ground. He pointed into the woods, and they both took off running, Sheba leading the way.

  Breathing hard, Matt could barely keep Sheba in sight. The dog was a highly trained, highly motivated animal, and when she got on a hot track, there was no holding her back.