Page 14 of Lock ’N’ Load

“Why?” She frowned.

He gave her a duh look. “Really?”

“I feel fine, and I need to g-get back to my assignment.”

Dark brows bunched as he watched her thoughtfully. “You know you have to file an incident report.”

“What?” Her stomach knotted. She’d totally forgotten about that. Or maybe it was selective memory.

“Agency policy requires any employee involved in a police matter to report it to the security office within twenty-fours after the incident.”

“I kn-know.” She quickly averted her gaze, hoping he wouldn’t detect her hesitancy.

“I can help you fill it out,” he offered.

“No! I’ll take care of it.” Not.

There was a rumor in the analysis branch that an analyst who’d once had a seemingly inconsequential interaction with the police had his security clearance revoked. If her clearance was yanked, she couldn’t do her job. And if she couldn’t work, she might as well not exist. Her work was everything to her.

Matt continued staring at her, saying nothing. Blood pounded in her ears as her heart began beating faster, something it did whenever she told a lie.

Uh-oh. She gripped the doorknob tightly. He was a cop and could probably see right through her.

“Is there someone you can call and talk to about what happened tonight?” he asked. “Your friends from this morning, Bonnie and Kevin?”

How did he know everyone’s names? Cops know everything, remember? Worry boiled in the pit of her stomach. Bonnie and Kevin were the last people she would ever tell. If she did, word would get out. She couldn’t put her clearance at risk.

“Why would I d-do that?” She heard the telltale quiver in her voice, and sure enough, he scowled down at her.

“Because they’re your friends, and after a traumatic experience, it helps to talk about what happened.”

“Maybe.” Maybe not. “I’ll think about it,” she lied again, hating herself for doing it. He’d saved her life, after all.

“Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.

“Here.” She indicated her purse.

“Get it out.”

She crossed her arms. “Why?”

“I’m going to put my cell number in your phone. That way, if you need anything tonight, you call me.”

“Why would I c-call you? Shouldn’t I call 911 if I need help?”

“Humor me.” Mimicking her, he crossed his arms, too. Then he surprised her by leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. “Now get out your damned phone.”

“Okay, okay.” She dug the phone out of her purse, and unlocked it. “What’s your n-number?”

Sighing, he grabbed the phone, entered his number, then handed it back to her. “Call me if you need anything. Anything,” he reiterated but remained standing at her open door.

“What?” she asked.

“Close the door and lock it. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Fine,” she said with a huff, then slammed the door in his face, cranking the dead bolt with more force than necessary, so he’d be sure to hear it. Muffled chuckling sounded on the other side, followed by receding footfalls. Hurrying to her living room window, she watched his taillights as he drove off.

Meow.