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, there’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.

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 friend 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.