Page 47 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Her heart raced painfully. The pulse at her throat roared in her ears, and still she could only manage to move the smallest amount of air through her nostrils. Not enough!

The arm around her waist tightened, doubling the difficulty of breathing.

Escape! Don’t give up without a fight! If she didn’t get more air soon, she’d black out.

Do something!

Fingers tightened, jabbing into her cheek, forcing her to suck in loud, wheezing breaths through her nose. Her chest heaved from the effort. More panic escalated through her body, and with every inhalation came the nauseating smells of sweat and body odor.

Stray barked furiously, snapping at the attacker’s legs. A shadow in the corner of the room moved. Another man emerged from the darkness, reared back his foot, and kicked Stray in the side. The dog yelped, but still had enough game in her to keep snapping. The booted foot lashed out again, this time kicking Stray so hard she hit the wall.

The dog whimpered and fell to the floor in a heap and didn’t move again.

Bastards. Fueled by rage, Andi kicked backward and tried to bite the hand covering her mouth.

“I said knock it off, bitch, or I shoot the dog!” The second man in the room extended his arm toward Stray.

Andi froze. Light from the kitchen gleamed against something shiny in his hand—a gun.

No. It can’t end this way.

There had to be something she could do. She racked her brain for an escape plan, for her and Stray. But as her gaze fixed on the gun, the futility of the situation became crystal clear. What little hope that ran through her mind trickled to a thin stream before ceasing entirely.

They were too strong for her to escape, and if she did…

…she’d be shot dead before ever making it to the door.

Chapter Eleven

Saxon trotted ahead, darting left and right as he followed one scent after another, seeing and smelling things Nick couldn’t. By this time of night, his mind was usually crammed with thoughts about work. Tonight, his head was filled with thoughts of a woman.

Andi.

The kiss he’d given her hadn’t scraped the surface of what he wanted: to carry her to her bedroom and make love to her all night. Whether he was prepared for it or not, she was getting to him.

Andi Hardt was everything a man could possibly want. Beauty and brains. Compassion and guts. Instinct shouted louder than ever that she was innocent, yet he was treading closer and closer to a line he should back the hell away from before he stepped right over it and plunged into quicksand. He couldn’t—no, shouldn’t—get involved or do any other stupid thing that might risk losing Andi’s cooperation. Like kissing her again, or carrying her up to her bedroom and stripping them both down until they were totally naked. Fuck, no.

Andi was still a critical part of an active investigation that was nearing the boiling point, and sticking to the plan was the only thing that mattered. In the meantime, there’d be a lot of cold showers in his future.

As they neared the edge of the grass that abutted the DPC’s parking lot, Saxon loped to Nick’s side.

Until tonight, he wasn’t sure he’d ever sing again, or pick up an instrument that he couldn’t load with at least eleven rounds of ammo, but when he’d seen Andi so panicked about her MIA musician, he hadn’t thought twice about helping her. For a few seconds he’d been pissed at his friends for goading him into it, then he realized it wasn’t anger tearing him up inside. It was something else entirely.

Since Tanya died, he’d been getting up every morning and reporting for work, but he’d only been going through the motions. Until now, he’d been hiding under a blanket, scared shitless of exposing his heart for fear of having it ripped from his chest again. It had taken the right person to yank off that blanket and let sunlight into his world. Andi had done that.

Light from the adjacent streetlamps glinted off the bumper of his Tahoe in the parking lot. Saxon ran ahead, lowering his front legs to the grass then pushing off to leap easily over the four-foot fence skirting the lot. He cleared the top rail by well over a foot and with minimal effort.

Nick followed, vaulting over the fence. He was about to insert the key into the Tahoe’s door, when Saxon alerted. The dog stood at full attention, staring at Andi’s house. Nick did the same, straining to see or hear whatever it was Saxon had. At first, he sensed nothing out of place. Only the kitchen light glowed through one of the windows facing the lot. Then, a dog barked. Stray.

Saxon gave an angry snort. Nick knew his dog well enough to know something was off. Stray wasn’t a barker.

Something moved outside Andi’s front door. That’s when he noticed a dark van parked in the shadows in front of her house. Distant rumbling told him the engine was on, but the headlights were off.

When Stray barked again, fear coiled in his gut. Nick took off running. He didn’t have to issue Saxon a command. His dog knew bad shit was going down.

He vaulted the fence on the other side of the parking lot at a dead run. Saxon leaped over the rail and charged ahead.

As they pounded across the grass, the kitchen light in Andi’s house went out. Only the moon lit the front yard. His heart hammered so loudly he could hear it, feel it in his throat.