Page 9 of Trap ’N’ Trace

He shut the door then turned to see Colin lean down to kiss Kat on the lips, but she presented him with her cheek, instead. Again, not that he cared, but whatever their relationship was, it wasn’t romantic. Whoever Colin was, he must have had the code to the gate or his pricy Jag wouldn’t be parked outside the front door.

“Katrina?” Colin sat beside her, arching a derisive brow at the now-wriggling puppy. He rested an arm possessively around her shoulders and threaded the fingers of his other hand through one of hers. “It’s all over the news. Did you really find a dead body?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She patted his hand then pulled both of hers away to calm Angus, who was doing his best to greet Colin aka Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass with a sound licking. “Speaking of which… Emily, would you please let the Haven staff, Francine, and Walter know what’s happened? I don’t want them to hear about it first on TV.”

“Of course.” Emily nodded then went into the kitchen.

Dayne was itching to get out of there, but he still needed to ask Kat a few more questions and make sure she had his business card in case she remembered anything else.

“What’s that puppy doing here?” Colin’s face wrinkled like he’d just sucked a lemon. “Why isn’t it at the shelter?”

“He’s too little, and I like the company. Angus is only here temporarily,” she reassured him.

The guy was a dog hater if ever Dayne saw one.

Colin leaned back against an enormous sofa with intricate carvings on the wood-framed top. Expensive. Like the rest of the place.

A crystal chandelier hung over Dayne’s head, and the column he leaned against—one of many in the place—rose to high ceilings painted with colorful scenery. Everywhere he looked there were layers and layers of floor and ceiling molding.

Kat’s voice drew his attention back to the open-space living room, which was as big as a football field. Another giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the room’s black granite fireplace was large enough to park a Sherman tank in.

“Are you all right?” Colin asked Kat. The man’s eyes narrowed as he glared across the foyer at Dayne. “And what’s that cop doing here?”

“I’m fine, and he’s not a cop.” Kat continued stroking Angus’s belly. “He’s an FBI agent.”

Colin threw him a derogatory look. “Then what’s an FBI agent doing in the house?”

“He drove me home,” Kat said.

“Colin, can I get you anything?” Emily asked, returning from the kitchen.

“No.” He didn’t even offer Kat’s assistant the courtesy of looking at her, telling Dayne precisely what the guy thought of hired help. Why would someone like Kat—who was turning out to be nicer than he expected—have anything to do with such a douche bag?

Dayne went back into the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa. Remy sat beside him, keeping a wary eye on Colin. “You okay, now?”

“Yes.” She mustered a smile. “Thank you for, um, carrying me here.”

Colin’s brows lowered. “What does that mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing. I didn’t eat anything today and apparently, I passed out. Lack of food, shock, stress… Agent Andrews caught me before I took a swan dive off the stairs.”

His lips compressed. “You should have called me.”

“I didn’t see the need.” Kat didn’t notice because she’d begun stroking Angus’s ears, but Colin’s face began turning an embarrassed shade of douche bag-red.

Dayne tugged a business card from his thigh pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll stop by another time to talk to you.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “And Angus can stay with me until the Garmans are ready to have him back.”

Colin cleared his throat. “Thank you for taking care of her, Agent Andrews. I can handle things from here.”

Did somebody say dis-missed? “Remy.” His dog stood, eager to get back to work. “Nice to meet you, Emily.”

“Same. Come back anytime.” The genuine smile Kat’s assistant gave him said she was appreciative of being noticed.

Seconds later, he was out the door. He waited for Remy to hop in the kennel then took one last look at the castle. Something about all that wealth brought back shitty memories he’d stashed deep inside a locked part of his brain.

Just before he’d pulled that velvet box from his pocket, he’d given Britt the exciting news that he was abandoning his plans for med school and joining the FBI. He thought she’d be proud. Instead her eyes had bulged, and she’d gaped at him like a largemouth bass. Then she’d dumped his ass. Said she needed to be married to a rich surgeon who could buy her an expensive home, fancy cars, jewelry, and take her on trips to Europe twice a year.