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  Meow.

  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.”

  “Will do.”

  Buck turned to leave, pausing. “You really do look like shit. Take off as soon as the meeting’s over. I’ll get someone else to cover the rest of your double.”

  “Thanks, boss.” He gave Buck a grateful look. With several of the other security officers on vacation, he’d been working plenty of double shifts. Normally, that didn’t bother him, but it wasn’t even eight thirty, and he was already dead on his feet.

  Not only did he like working for Buck, but the hours at the CIA were a boatload better than they’d been at his former employer. Usually, that was. Last night had been an exception.

  After six years as a military K-9 officer overseas, the Alexandria PD had picked him right up after he’d left the Marines. But after five years, a spot on the PD’s K-9 squad had never materialized. And his heart was always with the K-9s. And so he’d moved on.

  The other good thing about working for the CIA was his commute, which was now a fraction of what it used to be. Less time on the road meant more time working before and after-hours at his place. Jerry’s Place. His charity organization for kids and canines was a work in progress, and he still had a shitload more to do before it was up and running.

  A quick glance at his watch told him it was only five minutes since the last time he’d checked it. As soon as the weekly security meeting was over, he’d get in a quick workout at the gym, then take Buck up on his offer and head home early.

  After downing the last of his coffee, Matt headed to the printer to get the police report Jake had emailed over. On the way back to his desk, he poured himself another cup and sat at his desk to give the report a quick scan.

  Beside him, Sheba lounged in her bed, her muzzle between her legs, her eyes half closed and wearing an expression of utter contentment. It always amazed him how happy she was just to be near him.

  Jake’s report was thorough, although there hadn’t been much to report on. Jake had even sent uniforms back into the woods behind the Moose early this morning to look for evidence, but there’d been none. The ground was so dry, they hadn’t even found any shoe prints.

  What he read still bugged him, more than it had last night. Sure, some crimes lacked motive, but his cop instincts were buzzing. Something about last night seemed off.

  Is it because Trista is so petite and helpless?

  He doubted she had the strength to hurt a fly. When she’d lain there in his arms, unconscious, she’d seemed so fragile. That fucker had meant to hurt her, if not kill her. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he and Sheba hadn’t been there. When he’d witnessed her being dragged into the woods, he’d been out for blood. And when he’d pounded his fist into the guy’s face, it had felt good. Damn good, because he’d wanted to kill him.

  Matt looked at the crumpled report in his fisted hand. Just thinking about what a close call she’d had and how her attacker had escaped got him pissed off all over again. He hated seeing innocent people get hurt, and he’d do everything in his power to help someone in need.

  Trista had needed him, and he’d been there for her. That was what being a cop was all about. Helping people. It was something he needed to do. Had to do. He had a lot to make up for in his life. He couldn’t change what he’d done all those years ago, but he intended to spend the rest of his life trying to be a better person.

  “Hey, Matt. Heard you had some fun last nig
ht.”

  Olga Miller, one of the other K-9 officers in his unit, leaned down to pet Sheba, who rolled onto her side, exposing her belly for Olga to scratch.

  “I wouldn’t call it fun, exactly.” Grabbing a paper clip from his drawer, he attached the reports together, intending to staple them to Trista’s incident report.

  “Rescuing a damsel in distress?” She placed her hand over her heart and let out an exaggerated sigh. “If I wasn’t married to the love of my life, you’d be at the top of my list of the most manly men to get rescued by.”

  “Lucky me.” He narrowed his eyes, sending her a warning look.

  After giving Sheba another scratch, she snickered and stood. “See you in the meeting, Stud.”

  “Wiseass,” he muttered, then grinned. Secretly, Olga was one of his favorite people. She was like the sister he never had. Well, the sister he hadn’t talked to in years.

  Grabbing a pad, he rose and went to the main office to check again for Trista’s incident report. The office’s in-box was empty, so he began searching all the other boxes on the counter, in case it got misfiled.

  “Can I help you find something, Matt?”

  Matt turned to find Ava, the security division’s administrative assistant, who was watching him from the doorway.

  “Yeah.” He turned back to flip through some of the other loose documents on the counter. “I’m looking for Trista Gold’s incident report.”

  “No one’s dropped off any incident reports today.” Ava began tidying up the mess Matt had just made. “Except for you, that is. I read your report. What you did last night was so heroic. Like something out of a movie. A knight in shining armor rescuing a damsel in distress.”

  Matt froze as he reached for the top in-box, then turned to glare down at Ava. “You’ve been talking to Olga.”

  “Yesss.” She batted her eyelashes and sighed.

  “Christ,” he mumbled. “Just let me know if you find it.”

  “I’ll do that, Matthew. Now scoot.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. “You’ll be late for the meeting.”

  “In a second.” He picked up the phone, then dialed Trista’s extension. His call went directly to voicemail, and he hung up. He’d already left her a message an hour ago about the report. At this point, she’d been in the office nearly six hours. She’d had plenty of time to get the damned report in. But, he suddenly realized, she never intended to file it.

  When he’d talked to her about it last night, she’d assured him she would get it done, but her response had been bullshit. He’d seen it in her eyes. She might be a whiz at digging up analytical secrets, but she wasn’t a very good liar.

  Not your problem, Connors, so stop thinking about her.

  Rubbing his forehead, which had begun to ache from lack of sleep, he headed to the conference room and found everyone else, including Olga, already there, standing.

  “Grab a chair, Connors.” Buck gestured to the empty chair at his left. “Everyone, let’s give a big round of applause to our resident white knight.”

  Ah, shit. Matt ground his teeth as his colleagues clapped heartily.

  “All right, all right.” Buck sat, as did everyone else. “Let’s get down to business.”

  Matt handed Buck the crumpled police report. “Here’s the PD report from last night.”

  Buck took the report, quickly flipping through it. “And Ms. Gold’s incident report?”

  “It’s not here.” Matt met Buck’s questioning look.

  “Meaning what?” his boss asked. “That it’s not here? Or that she didn’t write one up?”

  “Can’t say.”

  A series of oohs and uh-ohs resounded around the table.

  Buck sat back in his chair. “Did you call her?”

  “Yes.” Matt hesitated to mention that he’d called her twice. She’d nearly been killed last night. Throwing her under the bus for a missing report didn’t sit right with him. There must be a damned good reason she hadn’t filed it.

  “How many times?” Buck prodded.

  Shit. “Twice. Got voicemail both times.”

  The oohs and uh-ohs got louder.

  “All right, all right.” Buck held up his hand for silence, then made a note on his pad. “Give us a quick rundown of what happened.”

  Matt summarized everything from the moment he’d seen Trista being dragged into the woods to the time he’d dropped her off at her house.

  “Wow!” Olga laughed. “First, the kid yesterday at the checkpoint, and now the guy last night. You’ve been doing a lot of tackling lately.”

  “Reliving your old college football glory days?” Mark Waters added with a smirk.

  With his head pounding full force now, Matt sent them each a silencing glare. A good workout before heading home and sacking out would definitely hit the mark to ease the tension creeping up his neck.

  “So, no obvious motive, nothing to show the guy knew Ms. Gold. You really think the attack was random?”

  Matt rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. Could be it really was just a crime of opportunity.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  He met his boss’s gaze. Buck not only had thirty years of federal law enforcement under his belt, but he could also read his people and knew what they were thinking.

  “I can’t put my finger on it. But the locals have no leads to follow up on.”

  “Anything connecting the attack to agency business?” Buck asked.

  Matt shook his head. “Nothing I know of.”

  Buck made another notation. “As long as there’s no connection to agency business, there shouldn’t be any fallout from this. After the meeting, I’ll notify Ms. Gold’s supervisor about the report.”

  Matt winced inwardly, hoping Trista didn’t catch too much heat.

  As the meeting went on, they discussed other security matters, including that stupid kid who’d tried to barrel through the checkpoint to impress his friends. The idiot would probably get off with a warning.

  As Buck passed out the coming week’s schedule, Matt’s thoughts drifted back to last night. There were too many unanswered questions. Including why he’d insisted on her having his personal cell phone number. It made him feel better knowing she had it. Until this thing with her attacker was figured out, he couldn’t shake the protective urges welling up inside him. Not that he had any delusions of heroism. But he and Sheba had saved her life, and now he felt somewhat responsible for her.

  As they filed out of the conference room, Mark Waters and the other K-9 handlers clapped Matt on the shoulder.

  “Your damsel’s not gonna like you much after today,” Waters said.

  Yeah, no shit.

  Matt put Sheba up in her office kennel, then headed for the locker room. The idea of Trista being angry with him—or anyone else, for that matter—was unlikely. She was so shy and demure, he doubted she had an angry bone in her body.

  Chapter Five

  “You’re what?” Trista stared at Wayne Gurgas, her boss and the deputy chief of the Strategic Programs Section.

  “Revoking your security clearance.” Wayne leaned over and flipped off the switch on her computer.

  The room went deathly silent as Bonnie and Kevin stopped whatever they were doing to listen. The sound of her computer shutting down was like a gunshot to Trista’s heart. Biting back a scream, she widened her eyes, gripping the armrests of her chair. She stared at the blank screen, then shifted her eyes back to Wayne. “You can’t do that,” she whispered, paralyzed by shock, barely able to speak.

  “I can, and I did.” Wayne crossed his arms, hiking up the sleeves of his suit jacket. “I’m sorry, Trista. The head of security just notified Genevieve and I”—he nodded to his assistant section chief, Genevieve Grujot, who stood beside him—“and the decision is final. Until we can verify the attack on you last night has no connection to agency business, your clearance is revoked.”

  Regaining her wits, Trista stood, fisting her hands. This can’t be happeni
ng. Her entire world was imploding before her eyes. “If my clearance is revoked, I can’t do anything on the computer or online. I can’t run Dark Curtain or find Karakurt again.” Though she’d been searching for him since the moment she’d arrived that morning. “I might as well not come to work at all.”

  “Exactly.” Wayne gave a curt nod. “Until this is figured out, consider yourself on paid vacation. You’ve got half an hour to gather your things and go home. Langley security will stay in touch with police regarding the attack.”

  “Is this because I didn’t file an incident report? I’m sorry, I’ll do it right now if it will help.” She knew it wouldn’t. It was too late for that.

  “At this point,” Wayne said, “that’s not necessary. We read about what happened in the police report and Sgt. Connors’s report.”

  “Sgt. Connors’s report?” Last night she’d told him she would take care of it. Looks like he’d gone behind her back and filed one of his own.

  Wearing a sympathetic expression, Genevieve walked around Trista’s desk and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure this will all be resolved soon, and then you can return to your assignments. For now, go home. Enjoy the free time. None of this is a reflection on you.”

  The hell it isn’t.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. True, she had concerns about filing the report, but she never really believed this could happen. Not to her. It wasn’t like Wayne and Genevieve to take such drastic action without consulting her first.

  Wayne uncrossed his arms and pointed at her. “I expect to see you checking out of here within the next thirty minutes.”

  “But—” Her body began to tremble as the enormity of what had just happened sank in.

  “No buts, Trista.” Wayne turned and headed to the door. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Just leave. I mean it. Thirty minutes, and I want you gone.”

  With a sudden spurt of desperation, Trista rounded her desk, pushing past Genevieve, stopping Wayne before he could leave. “Please, don’t do this. I have to work. If I can’t work, I’ll—” She couldn’t say the words. I’ll be nothing.