Page 4 of Lock ’N’ Load

Trista gave a snort as Sgt. Connors handed the kid over to two other uniformed officers. That must have been the pounding of booted feet she’d heard—the cavalry had arrived. Granted, she’d been almost blind at the time, but she’d been impressed by the speed and efficiency with which Sgt. Connors and his dog had taken down the punk.

With a satisfied smirk, she watched the other officers walk the kid away. To where, she wasn’t sure, since he looked to be under eighteen and, as such, a minor. Still, he had tried to breach a federal facility.

“Are you all right?”

Trista jerked her head around to find Sgt. Connors crouching on the floor beside her, his face only inches from hers, his incredibly broad shoulders blocking out all else. Big brown eyes pinned her, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away. No, his eyes were more like cocoa, coffee, and caramel all rolled into one. Yummy.

The look he continued to give her was intense. His dark brows drew together as he searched her face, as if looking for injuries.

“Are you all right?” he repeated, frowning. Actually, it was more of a scowl.

Yes, she wanted to say. But her throat was clogged again, and no matter how much she tried, her lips wouldn’t move.

She took a deep breath, praying it would kick her brain into gear. It didn’t. The only thing it did was send his sexy, way-too-appealing aftershave directly to her lungs and her brain.

Say something, stupid.

“I—” She swallowed. Lord, she’d thought he was good looking before, but this close…OMG. She might not be able to speak to certain men, but that didn’t mean her libido was dead. For a man, he was utterly stunning.

“Tris?” Kevin asked. “You okay?” Only then did she realize he’d come to her aid as well and was now crouching next to Bonnie.

“Do you think you can get up?” Sgt. Connors held out an enormously large, incredibly strong-looking hand. “Let me help you.”

Now staring stupidly into his eyes, she placed her hand in his, noting several thick scars on his hands and forearms. As he began pulling her to her feet, an inhuman snort ruffled her hair.

A large brown-and-black muzzle thrust its way into her peripheral vision. Trista gasped and scrambled in the opposite direction—straight into Sgt. Connors’s hard chest.

Her pulse pounded. Her body trembled as she took in quick breaths. The dog stared at her steadily from amber-gold eyes, a shade lighter than Sgt. Connors’s.

She tried pushing herself farther from the dog, but not only weren’t her sensible shoes gaining traction on the shiny granite floor, Sgt. Connors’s body was an immovable mountain of muscle.

Still holding her hand, he hugged her tighter against his body, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “It’s okay…” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Sedni.” In response to his command, the dog sat. “Sheba won’t hurt you. She’s here to protect you.”

“I d-doubt that.” Cynophobia—fear of dogs—was something she’d lived with since she was six years old.

He gave a slight tug and pulled her to her feet. Blood rushed to her head, and she wavered, instinctively putting out a hand for balance. Her fingers contacted the center of his chest. His shirt felt odd, and it occurred to her that he was wearing a protective vest under his uniform. That, and he smelled really, really good. Like cedar, leather, and dark rum all rolled into one intoxicating scent.

Concern etched his chiseled features. “Do you need to lie down?” He released her hand, clasping her shoulders gently.

One of her hands still remained on his chest. Worse, her other hand was now gripping his forearm.

When did that happen?

She looked up. And up, until she could meet his gaze. As predicted, he did indeed tower over her by more than twelve inches.

The arm beneath her fingers was warm and thickly muscled, with a light scattering of coarse hair covering rough, slightly raised skin. Scars aside, strength and confidence emanated from the man like a halo of raw power.

She shook her head, snatching her hand back. “I’m f-fine. Thank you.”

Jeez Louise, I’m babbling like an infant.

Avoiding Sgt. Connors’s intense gaze, she stepped to the ID scanner, feeling his—and everyone else’s—eyes boring into her back. Her hands went clammy as she shoved in her ID card. Somehow she managed to punch in her code and make it through the checkpoint. When the glass panels whooshed open, she bolted through and speed-walked to the elevator bank. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she pounded on the up arrow, willing an elevator to arrive before anyone else could join her. A bell sounded and the doors opened.

“Hold the doors!” Bonnie shouted as she and Kevin bounded in next to her.

Trista pounded again, this time on the button that would close the doors before anyone else could intrude on her ultimate embarrassment. When the elevator began to rise, she let out a groan.

“That was an exciting way to start the morning, huh, Tris?” Bonnie giggled. “And holy shit, that new K-9 guy is h-o-t hot!”