Page 19 of Trap ’N’ Trace

His brows met. “Your safety is not a burden.”

“Then why do you look physically ill?”

“Do I?” He shoved one hand in his pocket, making his biceps bunch.

“You do.” A little, anyway.

“I’m not.” A muscle in his cheek ticked. “And, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t believe in coincidence, and you shouldn’t, either. In case it’s escaped your attention, there’s a connection between the two victims.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” She crossed her arms, inadvertently plumping her breasts against the lacy cups of her nightie then quickly uncrossing them. “What’s the connection?”

“You,” he said softly. “You were at both locations. So, like it or not, you now have round-the-clock protection, and I’m not talking about some rent-a-cop agency.”

She advanced on him until she was a foot away. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Me.” He pushed from the counter, closing the gap to a few inches. “Until this investigation is over, you don’t go anywhere without me glued to your six.”

She snorted. “Is that alpha male jargon for glued to my ass?”

“It means you’re stuck with me, twenty-four seven.”

It took another few seconds for the full meaning of his intentions to take root. “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not happening.” Not with him, anyway. One night was fine, but having him around all the time would drive her—and her body—crazy.

“Security guard companies hire inexperienced cheap labor. They can’t protect you from this kind of violence. If this guy attacks again, by the time your security team dials 911… You’ll. Be. Dead.” His voice had turned hard.

Chills snaked over her body, and it had nothing to do with the ice pack.

“We can’t be certain, but whoever tried to kill you may try again. We don’t know if this was a crime of opportunity or something else. But you’ve seen his face. The fact that he came here after killing Becca tells me he’s persistent and won’t stop until he has whatever he’s after.”

Dayne didn’t want to be there but was willing to stay just to keep her safe. Two people were dead. An FBI agent and her own friend. An uncontrollable shudder swept through her. Poor Amy. How would her husband and children get through this? Because dead was dead, and there was no bringing Amy back.

As if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, the truth of Dayne’s words kicked in with brilliant clarity. I really could be next.

Making a decision she prayed wouldn’t be a colossal mistake, she set down the ice pack then retrieved her robe and slipped it on. “I want to see Amy’s family tomorrow.” She’d left messages for her husband, but he hadn’t returned her calls.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“And I’ll be going to the wake.” She blinked to hold back the tears that had suddenly reappeared.

He regarded her closely, but with compassion in his eyes. “Okay. If you’d prefer someone else—a female agent—I can make that happen.”

That was something she hadn’t considered. Then again, while they had their differences, he could—and would—protect her. He was strong and intelligent. He made her feel… Safe. That hadn’t happened in a long time–maybe ever.

“You can stay.”

Something in his expression changed. She had to be mistaken because it looked like relief.

Weariness took over, and she pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Do you really think the same person who killed Rebecca Garman killed Amy?”

“I can’t prove it, but yes. I do.”

She lowered her hand. “Amy was such a kind person. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why did he do this?” Why did anyone kill another human being?

“I don’t know.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Yet. We’ve got a lot of leads we’re looking into.”

“I still don’t understand why he went to the Haven in the first place.”

“I don’t know that, either.” His brows lowered. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”