by Tee O'Fallon
Making a decision she prayed wouldn’t be a colossal mistake, she set down the ice pack then retrieved her robe and slipped it on. “I want to see Amy’s family tomorrow.” She’d left messages for her husband, but he hadn’t returned her calls.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
“And I’ll be going to the wake.” She blinked to hold back the tears that had suddenly reappeared.
He regarded her closely, but with compassion in his eyes. “Okay. If you’d prefer someone else—a female agent—I can make that happen.”
That was something she hadn’t considered. Then again, while they had their differences, he could—and would—protect her. He was strong and intelligent. He made her feel… Safe. That hadn’t happened in a long time–maybe ever.
“You can stay.”
Something in his expression changed. She had to be mistaken because it looked like relief.
Weariness took over, and she pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Do you really think the same person who killed Rebecca Garman killed Amy?”
“I can’t prove it, but yes. I do.”
She lowered her hand. “Amy was such a kind person. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why did he do this?” Why did anyone kill another human being?
“I don’t know.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Yet. We’ve got a lot of leads we’re looking into.”
“I still don’t understand why he went to the Haven in the first place.”
“I don’t know that, either.” His brows lowered. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Their gazes met and held. “I believe you.”
Something wet and rough licked her bare toes. Angus’s tongue.
“Where’s Remy?” She peered into the living room. If Dayne’s giant German shepherd were there, she’d know it. That K-9 had the same undeniable presence that her handler did. Neither would ever be overlooked.
He tipped his head to the front door. “Out in the truck.”
“She can’t stay there all night. Bring her in.” She headed for the door, intending to open it, but Dayne got there first, blocking her path.
“No going outside tonight. Especially in”—his eyes dipped to her silk robe—“that.”
She pinched her lips, holding back the death stare she wanted to give him. Instead, she flung her hands in the air, resigned to the fact that she now had round-the-clock protection. “Fine.”
“She’s muddy,” he warned.
“There’s a hose on the side of the house.” She pointed in the general direction where one was attached to the exterior wall.
Dayne arched a dark brow. “Then she’ll be wet.”
“I have towels. Bring her in. My house, my rules.” Angus let loose with a sharp yip. “See? It’s unanimous.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She opened her mouth, readying to also insist that he never call her “ma’am,” when a corner of his mouth lifted, revealing a very nice set of white teeth. “We’ll be back.”
Leaving the puppy staring at the door, she went to one of the guest bedrooms on the main floor—the butler’s accommodations—and plucked two fluffy white towels from the bathroom shelf. She turned to inspect the bedroom. Dayne could stay here. He’d like it. With its dark wood paneling and black comforter on the four-poster bed, it was 100 percent alpha male. Just like him.
Back in the foyer, Angus had parked his furry little butt two inches from the door. She cracked it open, using her foot to keep Angus from darting outside.
“Shake,” Dayne commanded, and Remy shook. A few droplets hit Kat in the face, but she didn’t care. “Shake,” he ordered again, and again, Remy shook. “Good girl.”
“She shakes on command?”
He narrowed his eyes and his lips compressed into a tight line. “I told you to stay inside.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am inside.”
“You shouldn’t be standing on the threshold, exposed like that.” He and Remy pushed past her then he closed and locked the door behind them.
Well, maybe he had a point. As far as safety went, guess she’d be taking orders from him from now on.
Angus yipped, standing on his hind legs, trying to nip at Remy’s face. The big shepherd stood calmly, allowing Angus to burn off his excitement. “She has the patience of a saint,” Kat said.
“She does. I don’t.” Dayne nodded to the security keypad on the wall. “What’s your alarm code?”
“Four-two-six-five.” She set one of the towels on the foyer table, then using her good arm, began toweling off the K-9’s damp coat.
“The same code as the driveway gate?” His lips twisted into a disapproving frown. “They should be different codes.”
“It’s easier to remember only one code.” Ignoring the annoyance on his face, she continued drying Remy. “Remy, du bist wunderschon.”
The dog’s head bobbed, as if acknowledging Kat’s compliment at how beautiful she was.
“You speak German?” Dayne asked.
“Yes.” She ran the towel over Remy’s back and tail.
“Exactly how many languages do you speak?”
“Besides English, four. German, French, Italian, and Spanish. It helps me get through meetings I have every so often with our shareholders.”
Dayne grunted. “Other than English, I only know enough German for Remy and me to communicate. Right girl?” He petted his dog’s head then gently caressed the back of her ear. Remy leaned into his big hand, watching him with absolute adoration in her eyes before landing a lick on his chin. His laugh was deep, rumbly, and totally uninhibited. Seemed like uninhibited laughter was reserved solely for his dog.
He caught sight of her watching them and frowned. “What?”
“Uh, nothing.” She shook her head, focusing on sifting her fingers through Remy’s thick golden brown and black coat. Just that for a tough, hard-as-nails federal agent, the love he and his K-9 had for each other was so…unexpected. “Teaching her to shake is a handy trick.”
“It was either that, or my mother would never let her into my parents’ house again. Once, I let her in when it was raining and she shook all over Mom’s antique white lace tablecloth. You should have heard the scream. Mom chased Remy and me out of the house with a broom.” He tugged the towel from her hand and began rubbing his dog’s coat. “I’ve got this.”
Maybe chivalry isn’t dead after all. Genuine chivalry, that was. Everyone in her circle was usually overly solicitous and always for the wrong reasons. Because they wanted something in return. Like money or the prestige her name could give them by association.
Remy twisted her neck to watch Dayne from adoring eyes then turned back to Angus and gave him a playful nudge with her snout, sending him sprawling. Not to be deterred, the puppy reengaged and clamped his jaw around one of Remy’s legs.
The shepherd strode through the foyer and into the living room, dragging the clinging puppy along the floor as she went.
“That should do it.” Dayne stood then offered his hand to help her rise to her feet.
For a long moment, she stared at his hand, hesitating to take it and not completely understanding why. A second later, she did.
While his motives had been strictly for medical, analytical reasons, she’d already felt his touch…and liked it. Gulp.
Did I actually just gulp? She prayed he didn’t hear it.
When she placed her hand in his, long, strong fingers closed around hers, pulling her gently to her feet. Warmth from his hand shot up her arm to her neck, heating her face. He didn’t let go. Neither did she.
As if realizing he still held her hand, he abruptly released it. “You must be tired, and we have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll take you to Amy’s house then the police station to work with a sketch artist.”
“Of course. I’ll do anything I can to help. And again, I’m sorry. I know you lost a fri
end yesterday, too.” Which explained why he was all business. Finding their friends’ killer was the driving force behind everything he did.
“Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “We’ll get him. One way or the other.”
“There’s a guestroom on this floor where you can stay. You do sleep, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I’ll try and catch some shut-eye.”
“This way.” As Dayne, Remy, and Angus followed her through the kitchen to the guest quarters, she couldn’t put a name to the prickling sense of awareness zinging through her body. “Here we are.” She turned on the lights then stepped aside.
He slipped past her to check out the room. “You don’t have any ser—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, any employees who stay here with you?”
“You were going to say ‘servants,’ weren’t you?” He shrugged, giving her his answer. “No. I don’t have servants. Employees, yes.” Although she considered Emily, Francine, and Walter to be friends more than employees.
He raised his brows. “Why not?” She opened her mouth to object to his assumption that she retained servants when he held up his hand. “I only meant that this is a big place. Huge, actually. It must take a small army to maintain.”
Remy circled twice then lay down. Angus snuggled up beside her, pressing his back against the K-9’s belly.
“It does, but we manage.” Barely. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the money to pay more people to run such a big estate. Hiring those she didn’t know and trust was a risk, one she was no longer willing to take. Not after reading about her last breakup in the tabloids.
One of the maids had overheard her conversation with Chad and sold the story to make a few hundred dollars. Getting burned again by her own staff… Never. Again. The next day, she fired everyone except those she implicitly trusted.
“The people I employ have families.” Her tone sounded overly bright, even to her. “Asking them to stay here overnight is unkind. Besides, during the day I’m usually surrounded by people, either at the Haven or at one event or another. Just so you’re familiar, there’s Emily, my personal assistant whom you met earlier, and Francine, my housekeeper and cook, who will be here at nine o’clock. My groundskeeper, Walter, works outside twice a week.”
“I’ll need their full names, dates of birth, and Social Security numbers. And the same for anyone else working at the Haven.”
“I seriously doubt that’s necessary.” She crossed her arms, grimacing as a slight twinge shot to her shoulder. “They’ve all been with me for years. If they wanted to murder me, they could have done it a long time ago.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Dayne admitted. “But everyone has friends, and everyone has relatives. People can be blackmailed, coerced, used by others without even being aware of it. I’m just doing my job, Kat.”
“Fine.” She held up her hands. “I’ll get you the information tomorrow. I mean, later.” Considering today was already here.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A trickle of water ran down his face, and she realized his clothes were soaked from being outside in the rain. She’d been so self-absorbed, she hadn’t given a thought to his needs. “There’s a laundry room next door to yours if you’d like to wash and dry your clothes.”
“Thanks, maybe I will.” Panting had them both glancing to Remy and Angus. Remy’s tongue lolled from her mouth. The bigger dog appeared totally content to babysit the puppy. “He can stay down here tonight, if you like. I’ll take care of him if he needs to go out.”
When Dayne smiled her brain shorted out.
You need to answer him.
“I’ll take you up on that kind offer. I’m wiped out. I’m not sure I’d hear him once I get to sleep. Good night,” she managed.
“’Night.”
If he washed his clothes, would he sleep nude?
Stop it. He has absolutely no interest in you that way. Poor guy is just doing his job.
She fell into bed and winced when her sore shoulder hit the mattress. Tears threatened, and she blinked them away.
Two women had died.
Two men and their children had lost their loved ones.
And no one knew why.
I almost died. Her throat tightened but she wouldn’t allow herself to give in to the terror that had paralyzed her earlier.
She’d do whatever it took to help find the killer, so he could never hurt anyone again.
Chapter Seven
By eight a.m. the coffeepot was calling to Dayne.
He hosed off Remy and Angus’s feet, eager for another cup of Kat’s French frou-frou java. The early morning dog walk had done double duty, also giving him the opportunity to inspect the property in daylight and scrutinize the exterior of the castle for weaknesses. Of which there were a shitload.
During the walk down to the Haven for puppy kibble, he’d called Kade to give him the rundown on yesterday’s events and to get his friend’s take on installing a new security system. Kade had quickly grasped the need for exigency and promised to be at the castle in a couple of hours.
Before going back inside, he introduced himself to the outside replacement duty officer in the patrol car and notified the cop that Kat’s assistant and housekeeper would be arriving at nine o’clock. He gave the guy his cell number, along with strict instructions to check IDs and send him a text when anyone approached the house.
He dried the dogs’ feet then fed them in the kitchen. Aside from the sound of the dogs munching away, the castle was quiet. He took a hefty swig of coffee, shutting his eyes and savoring the deep, rich flavor. This shit was damn good.
Taking his mug with him, he headed for his servants’ quarters. He had just enough time to toss his clothes in the wash and grab a shower. After trekking around in the muddy woods for two days straight, his cargo pants and polo shirt were covered with mud splatter. Even he had to admit he and his clothes smelled like a herd of buffalo.
He stripped down then grabbed a towel from the bathroom and tied it around his waist. Quietly, he padded to the small laundry room and stuffed his clothes in the washing machine. Even the washer and dryer were top of the line and with enough buttons to fill a computer keyboard. When he pushed the quick wash button an LED lit up telling him the cycle would be done in fifteen minutes. Good thing or he’d be doing protection duty wearing nothing but a towel.
Back in his quarters, he cranked on the shower and when the glass door steamed up, tugged off the towel and stepped in. Resting his palms on the tile, he bowed his head, allowing the hot water to massage his neck and back, nearly groaning from sheer bliss.
This assignment was more stressful than he anticipated. Because it’s Becca. No, that wasn’t it. Not all of it, anyway. Maintaining professionalism was the cornerstone of his career, and his was being tested. Because he liked Kat. A little too much.
She could have been killed, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit. Not because she was a critical witness. Because she was…her, and that woman was more down to earth and gutsier than he’d expected. On top of that, the woman was stunning, right down to her toes. He doubted even a sex-deprived monk would be immune to her beauty.
He slapped the bar of soap back onto the ledge and squeezed out a gob of shampoo, rubbing it vigorously into his hair. Don’t even think it.
It was beyond ridiculous. He wasn’t for her, and she wasn’t for him. Under any circumstances. He wasn’t in the same solar system or even the same universe as the Katrina Vandenburgs of the world. But something had been brewing between them last night. Something intense and hot and…
His dick twitched, and he groaned.
Cold or no, she’d trembled at his touch, and her pulse had sped up. He’d had to stand in front of the open freezer to cool the fuck off. When he’d reached for one of the ice packs, he’d been tempted to grab two. One for her sh
oulder. One for the ache at his crotch. The only thing he could think of at that moment was putting physical distance between them.
No wonder he was still single. Smoothness where women were concerned was as elusive to him as a unicorn. Protecting her was what he should focus on.
He shut off the water. He’d pulled that hairbrained idea out of his ass without knowing if his SAC would even approve it.
After drying off, he tied the towel around his waist then poked his head into the bedroom. Remy’s tail thumped when she caught sight of him. Angus still snuggled against her belly, fast asleep.
He padded to the laundry room and transferred his clothes to the dryer. After pushing the quick dry button, he returned to the bedroom and lay back on the bed while he made some calls.
The first call was to his ASAC, updating her on the situation and pitching his protection idea. Miraculously, ASAC Barstow agreed, adding that agents were combing through Becca’s old FBI case files for anyone with enough of a grudge to want her dead.
His next call was to Paulson, who answered on the fourth ring. “Paulson,” the man said on a yawn.
“It’s Dayne Andrews.” He waited for a wisecrack about how early it was and was surprised when it didn’t come. “Just checking in. Anything new?”
“Yes and no.” Sheets rustled. “We’re waiting on fingerprint analysis in AFIS. Although, if he really wore gloves, the prints we find should belong to Katrina Vandenburg and her employees, since they’re the only ones allowed past the reception desk.”
“What else?”
“We interviewed everyone on the same block as Rebecca Garman’s office. No one saw a thing, except for one person who thinks they saw the puppy alone in the front yard Tuesday afternoon around four p.m. We took all the case files from the office, and we’ll start reviewing them for anyone who stands out as a suspect. The husband confirmed that his wife had a digital camera and a laptop, and that she only did PI casework on the laptop.”
“Did he know where the camera and laptop are?”
“No. Said they were with his wife. We didn’t find them in the office or in her vehicle.”