Page 40 of Lock ’N’ Load

“It’s already been worked out,” Chief McIntyre continued. “As of this moment, your tours at Langley are being covered by other officers. Your only assignment is to get Ms. Gold someplace safe and keep her that way until the Intelligence directorate gives us the all clear.”

“No, I won’t do it.” She shook her head so vigorously the blanket fell off her shoulders. “You have no idea how long that will be.”

“Actually,” Genevieve piped in, “we feel certain this will all be cleared up within the next thirty days.”

“How do you know that?” Matt crossed his arms. The scowl on his face was the deepest she’d ever seen. Obviously, he didn’t care for the idea of being saddled with her even for a month.

Neither Wayne nor Genevieve responded to Matt’s question, but they did exchange another irritating, clandestine look that spoke volumes. They knew precisely what was going on but weren’t about to say so.

“My life is at stake.” She glared at her supervisors, still in disbelief. “Don’t you think I need to know what’s going on? I realize my clearance was revoked, but someone’s trying to kill me, for Pete’s sake.”

Wayne shook his head. “Your only assignment, until you hear from either myself or Genevieve, is to keep your head down and do whatever Sgt. Connors tells you to do to stay safe.”

“But—”

“That’s an order.” He pointed a finger at her. “The Intelligence directorate has operatives in the field who will follow up on the chat room, so you are not to do a damn thing. The only thing you should be logging on to a computer for over the next thirty days, is to look up your horoscope.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, feeling like a small child punished by her father. “I’ll stay with my friend Bonnie for a few days, then maybe at Kevin’s place after that. He’s got a bigger apartment than Bonnie does.”

Matt gave a snort. “You’ll stay where I tell you, and it sure as hell won’t be at Kevin’s place.”

“Why not?” She gave him her best angry glare, only to find he looked even angrier. His dark brows had drawn together and the skin over his nose etched into a deep V.

“Because Kevin can’t protect you like I can,” he snapped. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to put your friends in danger, would you?”

Well, shoot. What did he have to be angry about? But he was right. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to her friends because of her. Looking down at her hands, she gave a reluctant sigh. “Okay.”

Beside her, Matt, too, exhaled a breath, as if he hadn’t expected her to capitulate so easily.

Detective Sorensen pocketed his notebook and pen. “Fire marshals will investigate the remains of your house for evidence. We’ll check for prints on the doors and inside the house, but assuming this was Solonik again, chances are he wore gloves and any prints would have been obliterated by the fire. We’ll also check for boot prints around the house, although with all the firemen and the two of us tromping around, it’s doubtful that will yield anything conclusive.” He nodded to Matt. “As soon as I get the report, I’ll send it over.”

“Thanks, Jake.” The two men shook hands.

Detective Sorensen paused. “Need me to tail you out of here?”

“Nah, I got this,” Matt said, then Detective Sorensen turned and left, the ER curtains flapping in his wake.

A tall, young doctor wearing wire-rimmed glasses and scrubs entered the room and pulled a stethoscope from around his neck. “Folks, we need a few minutes here, then I think Ms. Gold can go home.”

At the word “home,” Trista winced, again reminded that she no longer had one. Her only remaining possessions were her cat and her car. Given how close to the house she’d parked her car, even that was questionable.

“Stay safe, Trista.” Genevieve leaned over and squeezed her arm.

“Take care of her, Sergeant,” Wayne said to Matt.

“Count on it.”

Matt’s tone held a discernible note of conviction, leaving Trista completely confused. Only moments ago, he’d seemed completely opposed to being her bodyguard.

Ah, yes. Must be that ingrained sense of cop duty. Given an assignment, he’d fulfill his duties and obligations. It had nothing to do with her personally, and she experienced a stab of disappointment. Get real, Trista. A guy like that must have a hot girlfriend waiting for him at home.

Both supervisors left the room, leaving her alone with Matt. Dark-brown eyes scrutinized her, making her feel like the proverbial bug under a microscope. It was unnerving. Plus, wearing nothing but her nightclothes made her self-conscious, and she tugged the blanket tighter around her, but it slipped off her shoulder. Matt tugged it back up, his knuckles grazing her bare shoulders.

“I’ll get you something to wear over that…shirt.” He frowned, clearly having no idea how to label her plain garment.

She wanted to die of embarrassment. He was probably used to sexy, exotic women wearing silk and satin, not boring cotton. “It’s a camisole,” she practically groaned.

“Yeah. Camisole. Whatever. I’ll be back.” He disappeared through the curtains.