Chapter Three

Kat’s world went dark, misting over with thick gray fog. Then she was floating. No, flying. Something big and warm wrapped around her like a soothing, protective cocoon.

She snuggled closer to the warmth and found it firm against her cheek. Firm. Hard. And smelling oh-so-good. Like spring showers and fabric softener mingled with an unfamiliar scent. Subtle, masculine, woodsy cologne. Not Chad’s. Good thing, the rat bastard.

“It’s all right. I’ve got you,” a deep voice rumbled. A sound she liked.

Pounding shattered the peacefulness surrounding her, followed by shouting. Urgent shouting. “Police, open the door!”

I didn’t call the police again. Did I?

“Oh my god! What happened? Is she all right?” Emily. “Come in, come in! Should I call an ambulance?”

Yipping filtered through the murky haze.

“Get me a blanket,” the deep voice ordered. No, commanded. Like a soldier barking orders at his troops.

Soft cushions beneath her back and head. More yipping.

“Angus.” She struggled to sit up. Strong hands gently pushed her down. “Where’s the puppy?” Her voice was slightly slurred, but she hadn’t been drinking.

“He’s right here,” the deep voice assured.

A wet nose nuzzled her hand, and her tension eased. Then the events of the day hit her like a freight train.

The deep, rumbling voice had come from the FBI agent. Mister Just Dayne aka Special Agent Andrews. The last thing she remembered was walking up the steps then…lights out.

Slowly, the fog melted away. Clear, emerald-green eyes fringed by the thickest, darkest lashes she’d ever seen on a man stared back at her, so stunning in their intensity they were almost pretty. That’s where the pretty ended.

A face as ruggedly masculine as his—all granite-jawed and sculpted cheekbones—could never be considered pretty by any stretch. She’d had that exact thought during their two-minute encounter over a month ago. Although it was more than his appearance that had intrigued her then. The man was striking but not in the same manicured way all the men in her world were. Where the men she knew were polished and refined, Special Agent Dayne Andrews was fierce and totally sexy. That’s what she remembered most about him.

“Here’s that blanket.” Emily, her personal assistant, handed a blanket to Agent Andrews, who knelt on the floor beside her.

Remy, his enormous German shepherd, sat next to him. Little Angus stood with his paws on the sofa cushion by her right elbow, chomping down on the squeaky toy.

“Did you eat anything today?” Agent Andrews draped the blanket over her body.

She started to shake her head then thought better of it when the room began spinning. “No. I didn’t get around to it.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Emily wrung her hands. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” she mumbled. “No ambulance.” This was embarrassing enough.

Agent Andrews nodded to Emily. “Do you have something sweet to drink, like orange juice?”

“I’ll get some.” Emily rushed to the kitchen, returning quickly with a glass of juice.

Kat struggled to sit up.

“Wait.” Agent Andrews slid his arm beneath her back, lifting her upper body then wedging himself between her and the sofa. His very hard, very muscular chest pressed against her back. He held out his hand, and Emily handed him the glass. “Think you can drink some of this?” He held the glass to her lips. Her hands automatically came around his. “I’ve got this. Just drink.”

She did as ordered, and the tangy-sweet juice hit her taste buds then trickled down her throat, gradually reawakening her senses.

“What happened?” She looked at Emily’s concerned hazel eyes. The woman was not only Kat’s assistant but one of her few trusted friends.

“You fainted,” Agent Andrews said matter-of-factly.

“Fainted?” When she twisted her neck to look at him, her cheek grazed his chin. A very chiseled chin with a fine bristle of dark hair. “I never faint.”

“You did today.” He chuckled against the side of her face.

The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Despite the blanket and the warmth provided by his broad chest pressing so intimately against her body, she shivered.

Emily sat in the Chippendale armchair facing the sofa. Worry lines creased her forehead. “Can I get you anything else?”

She shook her head, feeling better already. “No. Thank you. But I don’t think we’ll be doing any kickboxing today.”

“Probably a wise decision,” Emily agreed.

“You kickbox?” Agent Andrews asked.

She turned to find his dark brows raised. “What? Only men are allowed to work out and get sweaty?” Yet again, he’d made a snap judgment about her. Most people did, and she hated being a foregone conclusion. “I’ve got a great gym in the basement. Emily and I work out together almost every day. Keeps us in shape, and it’s a great way to vent frustration.” Why am I telling him this? The man could care less about her physical fitness, let alone her personal issues.

Angus whimpered and tried hopping up beside her, but his front paws barely made it to the top cushion. Remy dipped her head and gave the puppy a shove with her snout, launching him onto Kat’s lap where he promptly curled up with his toy. “Remy seems to know just what Angus needs.”

In an unexpectedly tender gesture, Agent Andrews stroked the top of his dog’s head. “There are three things she loves most in the world. Me, catching bad guys, and puppies.”

She rubbed the shepherd’s soft ears and was rewarded with a contented groan. “I don’t understand why I fainted.”

“Part of your problem is low blood sugar. Think you can hold this by yourself?” She nodded, and he eased his hands from beneath hers on the glass.

“What’s the other part?” she asked between sips.

“Shock and stress.” Warm breath feathered her ear, sending tingles down her neck and back. “Finding a dead body is enough to yank the rug out from under anyone.”

“What dead body?” Emily straightened, glaring at Kat. “You didn’t say anything about a dead body.”

“I was taking Angus back to his owner,” Kat began, only now realizing Emily still had no idea what was going on. “Unfortunately, she was…dead.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

“There was so much blood. All those cuts on her body… What kind of animal would do such a thing?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.” His jaw tightened, reemphasizing the rugged masculinity of his face.

“Does the FBI investigate all murders?” Most of what she knew about the FBI from the news concerned things like terrorism and bank robberies.

“No.” A long moment of dead silence followed before he added, “The Orangetown PD has primary jurisdiction, but Rebecca Garman was an FBI agent before she became a private investigator. I’m assisting in case it turns out she was killed because of something she did for the FBI.”

“How will you figure that out?” She found herself suddenly intrigued by the investigative process.

“By sticking close to Detective Paulson and by reviewing every stitch of evidence.”

Feeling awkward about his proximity, she tugged the blanket closer around her shoulders. “Did you know Rebecca Garman personally?”

“Yeah.” A shadow darkened his eyes, something more than just anger. Grief. She easily recognized it. “When I graduated from the academy, she was my training agent.”

“I’m sorry.” It couldn’t be easy losing a mentor. She suspected Rebecca Garman had also been his friend.

“Thanks.” There was deep emotion in that one word. After their first encounter, perhaps she, too, was guilty of prejudgment. Maybe he was human after all.

Remy lowered her head to his thigh, watching him with big, expressive eyes.

“Did she have family?”

He rested his big hand on the dog’s head, gently sifting long fingers through the golden-brown fur. “Her husband is flying back from a business trip, and her children will be here tomorrow.”

To plan Rebecca’s funeral.

The organ-like doorbell echoed throughout the foyer and living room.

Agent Andrews tensed. “What is that?”

Remy snorted. Angus lifted his head and stared at the door.

“That would be the doorbell. I’ll get it.” Emily stood. “It’s probably the press. Once in a while they climb the fence.”

Kat groaned. “I’m not in the mood for this.” Actually, she was never in the mood to be interviewed but tolerated it because it was good publicity for the Haven and the other charities she supported. Another downside to being a Vandenburg. Most days, it seemed like there were more downsides than up.

“In that case, I’ve got this.” Agent Andrews slipped out from behind her then went to the door before Emily could open it. Remy trotted after him, picking up on some unspoken command.

That one simple act left her wondering if she’d ever be so in sync with anyone. Doubtful. Not after Chad, and certainly not after being so duped by him.

The doorbell chimed again, but she wasn’t worried. As big and intimidating as the agent and his dog were, she didn’t doubt he could kick any trespassers into the next county.

…

Dayne opened the door, preparing to tell the vultures to take a hike or get arrested.

A man wearing a suit that probably cost more than two of his biweekly paychecks stared at him from ice-cold gray eyes. Behind him, a silver Jaguar glinted in the sunlight. When he tried pushing past, Dayne planted a hand in the guy’s chest, sending him stumbling back.

Remy lowered her head, uttering a low growl.

“What the hell?” the guy sputtered. “Let me in.”

“No.” Dayne hooked his thumbs on his belt, intentionally drawing attention to the gold badge and holstered Glock.

“Step. Aside.”

“Not happening.” Dayne crossed his arms, meeting the other man’s glare and taking an instant dislike to the guy. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard Emily biting back a snicker.

“It’s all right,” Kat called out. “Emily, tell him Colin can come in.”

For an instant longer, their gazes remained locked, Dayne’s with a warning that whoever he was, he’d better play nice.

“Katrina,” the guy—Colin—called out as Dayne allowed him in.

Not that Dayne cared, but she’d told him to call her Kat.

He shut the door then turned to see Colin lean down to kiss Kat on the lips, but she presented him with her cheek, instead. Again, not that he cared, but whatever their relationship was, it wasn’t romantic. Whoever Colin was, he must have had the code to the gate or his pricy Jag wouldn’t be parked outside the front door.

“Katrina?” Colin sat beside her, arching a derisive brow at the now-wriggling puppy. He rested an arm possessively around her shoulders and threaded the fingers of his other hand through one of hers. “It’s all over the news. Did you really find a dead body?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She patted his hand then pulled both of hers away to calm Angus, who was doing his best to greet Colin aka Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass with a sound licking. “Speaking of which… Emily, would you please let the Haven staff, Francine, and Walter know what’s happened? I don’t want them to hear about it first on TV.”

“Of course.” Emily nodded then went into the kitchen.

Dayne was itching to get out of there, but he still needed to ask Kat a few more questions and make sure she had his business card in case she remembered anything else.

“What’s that puppy doing here?” Colin’s face wrinkled like he’d just sucked a lemon. “Why isn’t it at the shelter?”

“He’s too little, and I like the company. Angus is only here temporarily,” she reassured him.

The guy was a dog hater if ever Dayne saw one.

Colin leaned back against an enormous sofa with intricate carvings on the wood-framed top. Expensive. Like the rest of the place.

A crystal chandelier hung over Dayne’s head, and the column he leaned against—one of many in the place—rose to high ceilings painted with colorful scenery. Everywhere he looked there were layers and layers of floor and ceiling molding.

Kat’s voice drew his attention back to the open-space living room, which was as big as a football field. Another giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the room’s black granite fireplace was large enough to park a Sherman tank in.

“Are you all right?” Colin asked Kat. The man’s eyes narrowed as he glared across the foyer at Dayne. “And what’s that cop doing here?”

“I’m fine, and he’s not a cop.” Kat continued stroking Angus’s belly. “He’s an FBI agent.”

Colin threw him a derogatory look. “Then what’s an FBI agent doing in the house?”

“He drove me home,” Kat said.

“Colin, can I get you anything?” Emily asked, returning from the kitchen.

“No.” He didn’t even offer Kat’s assistant the courtesy of looking at her, telling Dayne precisely what the guy thought of hired help. Why would someone like Kat—who was turning out to be nicer than he expected—have anything to do with such a douche bag?

Dayne went back into the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa. Remy sat beside him, keeping a wary eye on Colin. “You okay, now?”

“Yes.” She mustered a smile. “Thank you for, um, carrying me here.”

Colin’s brows lowered. “What does that mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing. I didn’t eat anything today and apparently, I passed out. Lack of food, shock, stress… Agent Andrews caught me before I took a swan dive off the stairs.”

His lips compressed. “You should have called me.”

“I didn’t see the need.” Kat didn’t notice because she’d begun stroking Angus’s ears, but Colin’s face began turning an embarrassed shade of douche bag-red.

Dayne tugged a business card from his thigh pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll stop by another time to talk to you.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “And Angus can stay with me until the Garmans are ready to have him back.”

Colin cleared his throat. “Thank you for taking care of her, Agent Andrews. I can handle things from here.”

Did somebody say dis-missed? “Remy.” His dog stood, eager to get back to work. “Nice to meet you, Emily.”

“Same. Come back anytime.” The genuine smile Kat’s assistant gave him said she was appreciative of being noticed.

Seconds later, he was out the door. He waited for Remy to hop in the kennel then took one last look at the castle. Something about all that wealth brought back shitty memories he’d stashed deep inside a locked part of his brain.

Just before he’d pulled that velvet box from his pocket, he’d given Britt the exciting news that he was abandoning his plans for med school and joining the FBI. He thought she’d be proud. Instead her eyes had bulged, and she’d gaped at him like a largemouth bass. Then she’d dumped his ass. Said she needed to be married to a rich surgeon who could buy her an expensive home, fancy cars, jewelry, and take her on trips to Europe twice a year.

As he drove away from the castle, he gunned the SUV toward the looming iron gates. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.