Page 10 of Lock ’N’ Load

She pulled the mask from her face. “No.”

A second paramedic reached out a hand, stopping her. “Leave it on for a few more minutes, then we’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

“No.” She swatted the medic’s hand away, dragging the mask from her face. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’m fine now. I’ve been through this before.” Not in ages, though. She only carried an inhaler in her purse out of habit.

“Trista,” Sgt. Connors said. “Let them check you out at the hospital.”

She twisted in his arms and found his face sooo close to hers that for a moment words fled. Even in the shadows of the trees and all the flashing red-and-blue lights, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “Th-this was triggered by stress. N-now that the trigger is gone, I’ll be fine.” Aside from stuttering, that was.

Dark brows slashed together in a scowl as he looked from one paramedic to the other. “What do you think?”

One medic shook his head. “I don’t like it, but she’s conscious and seems lucid. We can’t force her to go if she refuses.”

“I put a bandage on her throat,” the other one said. “Luckily, it was only a shallow nick.”

“I’m right here.” She fisted her hands. “So don’t talk around me. I’ve made my decision and that’s final. I have plenty of inhalers at home if I need them. If I have another attack—which I won’t—I’ll call 911.”

“I think you should take their advice and go to the hospital.” Sgt. Connors was shaking his head at her.

Shoving his arms away, she pushed to a kneeling position and faced him. “I d-don’t care what you think.” It irked the snot out of her that she could tell off both paramedics without stumbling over her words, but the second she looked at Sgt. Connors, her brain waves shorted out.

Her knees wobbled as she struggled to stand. Sgt. Connors reached out to steady her, helping her rise to her feet. She twisted her neck in every direction, although her vision was still blurry from not wearing her glasses.

“Where is he?” Common sense told her she was safe in the circle of emergency responders, yet her chest tightened a bit just the same. “The g-guy who grabbed me, where is he?”

“He got away.” A uniformed cop came forward.

“I think my dog got a piece of him,” Sgt. Connors said. “I’ll swab her mouth in case he left any DNA to run through CODIS.”

“Uh-oh,” someone new said, a voice she recognized as one of the Moose’s waiters. “Sorry, man. I, uh, gave your dog some water. She was panting so much, and I just thought… Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” Sgt. Connors said, although from his tone, he sounded annoyed. “We probably couldn’t get a decent swab anyway.”

“Matt.” A tall blond man in slacks and a dress shirt rolled up his sleeves and pushed his way through the small crowd of people encircling Trista. On his belt was a gold badge and a gun. “Thought I recognized your voice on the radio.” The detective held out his hand to Sgt. Connors, and they shook. “What’ve we got here?”

“This is Trista Gold.” Sgt. Connors dipped his head in her direction. “She works at Langley. She was attacked in the parking lot.” He paused, pressing his full lips together in a hard line. “Her attacker got away.”

“Ms. Gold, I’m Detective Sorensen. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Detective Sorensen tugged a small pad and pen from his shirt pocket.

“Jake, let’s go to my truck so she can get more comfortable.”

Without waiting for a response, Sgt. Connors placed a hand at the small of her back, urging her in the direction of the parking lot. As they walked, she felt his touch clear to her toes. She knew he was only keeping his hand there in case she passed out or something, but she had to admit, it felt kind of good.

“Kemne,” he said, and the dog trotted along beside them.

Moments later, she was seated in the front passenger seat of his truck with the door open, Detective Sorensen facing her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She opened her mouth to speak, pausing to watch Sgt. Connors wordlessly point. The truck swayed slightly as the dog leaped inside the open door behind her. Turning, she bolted upright, preparing to jump from the truck.

“Relax, Tris. She won’t hurt you.” He leaned in front of her and slid the metal grating between her and the dog shut. As it had earlier that morning, his sexy scent came to her, and she couldn’t help but breathe him in.

She cast a wary eye toward the dog that sat only inches from her, staring back with big, golden, satanic eyes.

And when did he start calling me Tris?

That was a nickname only her parents and close friends used. His use of it should have annoyed her, but it didn’t. Oddly, it sounded…natural.

“Ms. Gold?” Detective Sorensen was staring at her with raised brows.