Page 30 of Lock ’N’ Load

“So,” Nick said, “how is the woman in your life?”

Trista?

Shit, where did that come from?

Probably from being in her house twice during the past week and from getting royally chewed out by her. Or more likely, because he’d had more conversation with her lately than he’d had with any other woman since he and Charlene had broken up. Yeah, that must be why.

“You mean Sheba?” Though he knew full well Nick was referring to a human significant other.

“Yeah, Sheba.” Nick laughed then took a sip of beer. “I take it you’re not getting any at the moment?”

Rather than answer Nick’s question, Matt took a swallow of his soda, which only made Nick laugh harder and Kade grin. His friends understood him well enough to know he didn’t kiss and tell.

“You guys all settled in?” Knowing he’d be working a double shift when the guys arrived, he’d left keys to his house and the kennels, along with the alarm code, in a coded lockbox.

“We’re good,” Kade answered for the rest of them.

“Hell, we’re better than good,” Nick added. “With all the renovation you’ve done on the house, the place is sweet. And the brand-new kennels are kick-ass. Saxon was so excited it was twenty minutes before I could calm him down.”

The image of Nick’s black German shepherd, Saxon, scampering around the pristine kennels had Matt grinning. He was pleased that his friends appreciated his late nights and long weekends spent laboring on the house and the kennel addition.

Dayne, the eldest of their motley crew at thirty-eight, clinked his bottle to Matt’s mug. “Jerry’s Place is taking shape. You done good.”

“Thanks, Dayne.” Mixed feelings of pride and sadness flooded him. After nearly two years, the nonprofit he’d envisioned to help both troubled youth and rescue dogs was finally ready, although he still needed a major influx of outside cash to fulfill his promise. Not that he was broke. His wealthy grandfather had seen to that in his will. Still, if he wasn’t careful with his own money, he’d soon be eating kibble every night with Sheba.

“How much land you got, anyway?” Jaime asked.

“About twelve acres.” Which made him somewhat of a land baron in northern Virginia.

Eric whistled. “Damn, that’s some high-priced real estate for these parts. You could sell the place and make a small fortune.”

“I’d never sell.” Not only was the place his grandfather’s legacy to him, he was determined to make a go of Jerry’s Place someday. Without his parents’ handouts. No matter how many times they’d offered assistance, he’d refused. This was something he had to do on his own.

“That’s an impressive security system you’ve got,” Dayne added. “Cameras outside, monitors in your office, and some pretty high-tech computers. Why no locking gates on the driveway?”

Matt set his mug on the bar. “I want to keep track of things, especially when I’m not home, but I don’t want the place to seem like a prison yard. It has to have an inviting atmosphere, or it won’t work. The kids will feel like they’re incarcerated.”

“Sheila here,” Jaime said, winking at the bartender as she wiped down the bar, “told us you had some trouble a few nights ago.”

“Understatement.” As succinctly as possible, he described the attack on Trista and how the son of a bitch got away.

“Any leads?” Nick asked.

“Long shot.” He picked up his mug and took a long drink. “Sheba ripped off a piece of the bastard’s clothing. The locals are running it through CODIS, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“And the girl?” Kade held up his finger to Sheila, signaling for another round “How’s she doing?”

Frowning, Matt looked down at his mug, not realizing until just then that he’d emptied it. “Trista is…pissed at me.” He laughed bitterly. “Her security clearance was revoked pending resolution of the matter, and she’s mad as hell at me for filing an incident report with the agency.”

“We’ve all pissed women off.” Jaime smirked. “Exactly how pissed is she?”

“She ripped me a new one.” Unable to stop himself, Matt grinned. Then he thought about the hot kiss that had followed the ass-ripping, and he sobered instantly. He still couldn’t get that damned kiss off his mind.

“No shit.” Nick barked out a laugh. “You save her life, and she chews you out? What the hell’s up with that?”

“For Trista,” Matt said, “her job is her life. Losing her clearance about killed her.”

“Why?” Nick persisted. “Is she a dog? Too hairy in all the wrong places? No offense to Sheba, of course. On Sheba, hair looks good.” The other men snickered. “Well?” Nick nudged him with an elbow. “What’s she like?”