Page 2 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“I’m good,” the state trooper said, still watching her like a hawk. “Get Malloy up here. Now.”

“You got it.” The other men disappeared.

The black dog growled deep in its throat, and she flinched, hauling Stray backward until they were pressed against the tile wall. Between Stray’s incessant barking and the shock, she barely registered the thickly muscled arm that reached into the stall and shut off the water.

“Ma’am,” she vaguely heard him say, although everything happening was so surreal she had a difficult time concentrating. “Ma’am.” The voice was infinitely more insistent now and laced with a hint of annoyance.

Stray let loose with a series of ear-splitting barks that echoed in the confines of the shower. “No bark,” she said, resting her hand on the top of the dog’s head.

“Take this.”

“What?” She snapped her gaze back to the trooper, who was holding out a towel to her.

Oh, shit. I’m practically naked. In front of a cop. Double shit.

Stray’s wet body still trembled beneath her arms, but the dog had calmed significantly and seemed content to stay within the safety of the shower stall.

She snatched the towel from his outstretched hand, quickly wrapping it around her bikini-clad body and twisting the top into a knot between her breasts. Until that moment, she’d been so completely and utterly freaked out by the intrusion of the man and his scary-as-hell dog, she hadn’t given a thought to the fact that the only thing she had on was a very old, very skimpy string bikini that barely concealed her ass and breasts. The only reason she’d kept it was for washing dogs. In private, that was.

“Easy girl.” She began stroking the dog’s quivering body, flattening the hair on her spine where it stood straight up. “Easy now.” Stray had stopped barking, settling for an occasional low growl in the back of her throat.

Andi stared up at the trooper. “What the hell is going on? Why do you have a search warrant for my house?” Technically it wasn’t her house. She was only staying there for a couple of nights.

His piercing gaze remained securely focused on her face. “As for the what,” that deep, clear voice resonated, “like I said, we’re serving a warrant. As for the why, all in good time.”

“What in the world are you serving a warrant for?” She dug her fingers into Stray’s thick ruff, massaging the dog’s neck to keep her calm. “This has to be a mistake. You can’t just barge into someone’s home.”

“No mistake.” He glanced at the dog that stood obediently at his side, glaring at her with the same intensity his handler did. The shepherd didn’t pay any heed to Stray. “Are you the only one in the house?”

“Y-yes,” she answered, her body beginning to chill.

“Are you Andromeda Hardt?”

She shivered. “Yes. I’m Andi. Andi Hardt. What’s your name?” The name tag on his chest said Houston but didn’t have his first name.

He ignored her question and clicked the mic on his lapel. “Tell Cox we have a guest up here. Andi Hardt, owner of the Dog Park Café.”

How does he know who I am?

“Copy that,” a voice came back.

Sgt. Houston refocused his attention on her. “Where’s Joe Myer?” he demanded, more than asked.

“Out of town,” she answered truthfully.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” A giant knot of fear and worry began wedging its way solidly into her gut. Joe had been unusually cryptic about his most recent business trip. Now state troopers were serving a warrant at his house. This is so not good.

That knot gnawed more at her belly, burrowing deeper and writhing like a mass of snakes.

“I can call him. In fact, I should tell him what’s going on here.” She glanced down at Stray. “Sit,” she said, and when the dog complied, added, “Stay.” When she made a move to get out of the shower, she nearly slammed into Sgt. Houston’s solid, unmoving chest. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t done anything wrong. Am I under arrest?”

He stared down at her, his eyes narrowing to slits. “No,” he said in a flat tone devoid of emotion. “You can call Myer later.”

“Okay, then. Thank you.” It was obvious she had no control over the situation, and that both frightened and bothered the crap out of her. She might not be under arrest, but she sure felt like a prisoner. “Could I at least have some privacy, so I can get dressed?” It might be eighty-plus outside, but with the air conditioning blasting on her wet hair and skin, her teeth were beginning to chatter.

“Sorry, ma’am, I can’t let you do that just now.”