Page 19 of Lock ’N’ Load

Kevin came over and sat on the corner of her desk. “Sorry, Tris. I’ve never seen Wayne act like that. Guy’s got a bug up his ass about something.”

“Yeah, but what?” Bonnie frowned. “And what incident are they talking about? What happened?”

Letting her head fall forward, Trista moaned, then told Bonnie and Kevin everything.

“Oh my God.” Bonnie’s mouth gaped open. “That’s why there’s a Band-Aid on your neck? You could have been killed. You should have told us about this when you came in this morning, and taken at least a day or two off after an experience like that.”

“We’re your friends, Trista.” Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his fingers on his pocket protector. “You should have called us last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Trista shut her eyes, wishing she could erase everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She knew her friends were only expressing their concern, but her head was seriously starting to pound. “After it was all over, it was late and I was so tired, I practically passed out the second my head hit the pillow.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “And you have no idea why this guy attacked you?”

“Well, I can guess.” Trista shuddered at the truth. He was either going to rape her, kill her, or both. She supposed there was a remote—albeit very remote—possibility that the attack had something to do with her job, but she hadn’t been working on anything dangerous, not even earlier in the chat room. Certainly it hadn’t been anything to kill her over.

Bonnie gave her a sympathetic smile, then pressed her hand over her heart. “Sgt. Connors saved your life. That is so heroic.”

“Give me a break.” Kevin glared at Bonnie, and she glared back.

Watching the wordless exchange between her friends made Trista smile. Kevin was jealous, and he didn’t even realize it.

Returning his gaze to Trista, Kevin resumed his tapping his pocket protector. “Sounds like whatever’s in that report triggered something in-house.”

“The police report, or Sgt. Connors’s incident report?” Bonnie asked.

Trista’s head pounded even worse now. She hadn’t thought of that. “Good question. It’s one I intend to find the answer to.”

Pushing up from the chair, she stormed out the door into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from others she passed on the way to the elevator. During the entire ride to the ground floor, she clenched and unclenched her fists.

When the doors opened, she charged across the lobby to the security office. Ava, the administrative assistant Trista had met on occasion during agency Christmas parties, smiled as she looked up.

“Ms. Gold, glad to see you’re okay after last night.”

“Thank you,” she managed politely. Stemming her rising temper, she took a deep breath. “I’d like to see the police report and Ma—Sgt. Connors’s report on my, uh, incident.”

“I just made you and your supervisor a copy.” Ava handed her a manila envelope. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She pulled out the contents and read Detective Sorensen’s report first. At the bottom of the form, she noted the detective’s assessment. Assailant unknown. Random attack presumed. Then she read Matt’s report.

At first glance, she was impressed by the detail and his manner of writing. Clear, concise, and to the point. But when she got to his assessment of the incident, she understood why her clearance had been revoked.

At the bottom of the agency form was a question requiring the reporting officer to indicate whether the incident had any connection with agency business. There were three possible answers: Yes, No, and Unknown. Matt had checked off the Unknown box.

Bastard. She wanted to call him worse, but cursing had been drilled out of her by her mother at a very young age.

He’d had no justifiable reason to say that, and because of that one checkmark, her rock—her lifeline—had been snatched away. She resisted the urge to scream at the top of her lungs and, with shaking hands, carefully placed the reports back into the envelope.

“Where is he?” she asked Ava, proud of herself for keeping the rising anger from her voice.

“Who, dear?” Ava looked up at her with raised brows.

She clenched her teeth. “Sgt. Connors.”

“He’s in the gym.” Ava pointed through the security office opening to the doors across the lobby.

“Thank you.” She plastered on a smile she didn’t feel in the slightest, then spun and charged across the lobby.

With every click of her short heels on the granite floor, her temper flared hotter. By the time she reached the double doors outside the fitness center, her heart thumped faster, keeping rhythm with her rising anger. She paused before holding her ID card to the reader on the wall, uncertain whether her clearance revocation included access to certain locations as well. Even if it meant kicking the door in, she’d gain entry if it was the last thing she did.