Page 5 of Trap ’N’ Trace

“Hop in with me. I’ll give you a ride home and you can pick up the Caddy later when the horde of vultures flies away.”

She glanced again at the reporters then flashed him a wary but considering look, as if taking him up on his offer was the lesser of two evils. “Thank you,” she said then hastily followed him across the street.

At their approach, Remy stuck her head farther out of the open window. He opened the passenger door and swiveled the mobile computer aside to make room for her and Angus. Using his body as a shield, he stepped in front of the encroaching reporters while Katrina slid onto the seat, clutching the puppy to her chest.

“Oh, come on,” a female reporter with platinum blond hair and fire engine-red lipstick whined. “We only want to ask a few questions.”

“Not gonna happen.” Reporters and photographers surrounded the vehicle. As soon as he got in, he blasted the air horn, sending the press bolting to avoid being run down. A snide snicker erupted from his throat.

Katrina laughed. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Yep.” He gunned the SUV down the road to the traffic light, which, thankfully, was green, then shot through the intersection.

She tucked Angus’s head beneath her chin. “They really are vultures.”

“I’d think you’d be used to it by now.” It wasn’t that he kept track of her in the newspapers or on TV, but he’d caught a few clips here and there of her being photographed and interviewed at charity events around the city.

“Well, I’m not used to it, so that’s the second incorrect preconceived notion you have about me.”

“The second?” He slanted her a sideways look, inhaling her subtle perfume. Roses. “What’s the first?”

“That I would ever allow my diamonds to get dirty.” There was no hiding the snark in her comeback.

He’d stepped right into that minefield like a rookie fresh out of Quantico. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” This time, she was the one to snicker. “Do you remember how to get to the Haven?” she asked then gave a startled gasp when Remy shoved her muzzle through the kennel window.

“Sorry.” He reached over his shoulder and tugged the cage window closed, although that didn’t stop Remy from pressing her snout through the bars as she investigated Angus. “I usually leave it open.”

“Female?” Katrina eyed his K-9, as did the pup.

The puppy craned his neck to touch noses with Remy’s. “Yeah. Most people assume she’s a he because of her size.”

“I spend a lot of time with dogs at the Haven.” She surprised him by touching her fingers to Remy’s snout. “I can usually tell what sex they are by their facial bone structure. She’s beautiful.”

“That she is,” Dayne agreed, stepping on the gas when the light turned.

“What’s her name?”

“Remy.”

“That’s a fun name. Did you name her after Remy Martin, the French cognac?”

“No. Remington, the gun.”

Her laugh was more of a full-blown snort. “I should have guessed. And for the record, Mister Dayne, call me Kat.”

Not likely. To him, she would always be Miss Katrina Vandenburg.

Turning onto Tweed Boulevard, he gunned the SUV up the steep road that led to Clausland Mountain and the Canine Haven. Clausland Mountain was a mix of state park land and private property located on the Palisades cliff overlooking the Hudson River some five hundred feet below. Hell, even the dogs at this shelter had a better view than he did.

At the sign for the Canine Haven, he turned right into the heavily wooded property. Tall evergreens and deciduous trees lined both sides of the road. No fencing. Anyone could waltz right onto the property unannounced and armed to the teeth. At the main entrance, he slowed.

“Keep going.” She waved a finger. “The house is up ahead.”

Dayne stepped on the gas. “You’re not dropping Angus off here?”

“He’s so little I think he’ll be more comfortable at the house with me. Besides, I like his company.”