Page 67 of Trap ’N’ Trace

“Good morning, Angela.” Kat waved to the young woman and continued on to the elevators.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Angela waved to a security guard in a navy-blue suit. “Only service dogs are allowed in the building.”

Dayne reached into his back pocket, readying to flash his badge.

“That’s all right,” Kat called out over her shoulder. “He’s with me.”

Of course it was all right. Considering she owned the building.

Seconds later, they were in the elevator, shooting up forty or so floors to the executive offices. Dayne stood directly in front of the doors, readying to block her path until he could verify the floor was secure. The elevator was dead silent, yet the hostile atmosphere humming between them was as loud as a machine gun.

The doors opened, and Dayne did a quick sneak and peak in either direction before stepping aside. Without so much as a passing glance, she glided past him to the reception desk.

“Good morning, Miss Vandenburg,” another woman said.

“How are you, Kenya?” Kat went around the desk and gave the receptionist a warm hug.

“I’m doing well, Miss Vandenburg.”

“How is your father recovering from his surgery?” Kat asked.

“He’s doing physical therapy and not happy about it.” The woman returned to her seat. “Thank you for asking. They’re waiting for you in the boardroom.”

“Thank you.” Kat glided past the desk.

Dayne grunted. Seemed like she was on a first name basis with everyone that worked for her. In this building alone that could be hundreds. In the world…thousands.

“Uh, Miss Vandenburg?” Kenya pointed questioningly to Dayne and Remy.

“They’re FBI bodyguards,” she answered, again without looking at him.

Dayne followed her down a hallway, along which she stopped to greet half a dozen people as if they were her next-door neighbors. At the end of the hallway loomed two enormous wood double doors, standing by which were three stuffy-looking men who greeted Kat overly solicitously.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“Welcome back, Miss Vandenburg.”

“Everyone is waiting inside for you.”

They all eyed Remy with a mixture of fear and disdain.

Dayne snorted. Guess not a log of dogs have graced these hallowed halls.

Kat gave a brief nod. “My FBI bodyguards.”

As if on cue, each man again had a response.

“Oh my. Yes, we read about you discovering a body last week.”

“Bodyguards? The dog, too?”

“FBI? Is something amiss?”

Amiss? Dayne held back another snort. Did anyone really use that word?

He followed Kat into the boardroom, ignoring the concerned looks of the three men, along with the curious expressions on the faces of the dozen or so people seated around the table that was as long as a stretch limo. He settled into a chair in the corner of the room and pointed to the floor. Remy lay down and rested her snout between her paws.

One of the men who’d greeted her at the door held out a chair for Kat at the head of the table. Another approached Dayne cautiously, giving Remy a wide berth.