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I shrug, unwilling to betray his confidence, even with my boss and friend.
“Are you in danger? I’m guessing yes, if Sheba’s been shot.”
Again, I have to be so careful. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know how deep Charlie is in this mess, or how it will end. I don’t want her getting into trouble for my sake, either. “The FBI agent shot her.”
“What?”
“Exactly.”
“Well.” She makes the last stitch and then sets her instruments aside. “I don’t know what all might be going on, but I do know that Mac loves her. No man who takes such thorough care of his dog—and you—can be bad. I don’t believe it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, giving her a tremulous smile.
She pulls off her gloves and comes around the table to give me a hug. “I’ll keep Sheba here for a few days to make sure she’s healing without infection. She ought to be up and around quickly. Can I call your parents for you, or is there someone else you’d rather stay with until she’s back in commission?”
I don’t want to leave his house. While I’m there, I can remember every time he touched me. The way his eyes heat when he looks at me. The dimples in his cheeks when he smiles. The soft curls that fall across his forehead. How he rakes his fingers through his hair when he’s at the very edge of his control. I could be a sad, desperate sub and bury my face in his pillow so that I can breathe his scent and remember him moving inside me.
But the smart thing would be to stay with my parents until all of this blows over. I nod, trying not to show how miserable the thought makes me. Fuck. I might have to stop by my place and find the last of my anxiety meds. The thought of Mom’s loving but frantic hovering makes my eye twitch.
In my mind, I hear Charlie’s words again.It doesn’t matter if they understand as long as you and I have an understanding.
I stroke Sheba’s face and press a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for protecting me. Even from men with guns.”
Dr. Wentworth rolls her into the recovery area, and I wash up and head toward the waiting area to let Deputy Daniels know how she’s doing.
Before I push open the door, I hear low voices. Automatically, I stop, my hand on the door.
“You went to interview a witness without me.” It’s a woman’s voice, assured and intent. “I told you to wait for me.”
“It’s not my fault that your plane was delayed. I was in the neighborhood. Thought I could get a jump on it before we lose him again. I knew you’d be along any minute.” That smug, arrogant tone could only be Rusk. “It isn’t a big deal.”
“No big deal?” she replies incredulously. “You discharged your weapon on private property and wounded the witness’s pet. What if you shot her instead?”
“If that beast’s a pet, then my dick’ll fall off.”
“Pet or guard dog, it doesn’t matter. You have to follow procedures, and we always interview as a team. That way we always have a witness to back up any questions that might come up later. What if you caught her alone in her house, and then later she accused you of improper conduct? Besides, how willing do you think she’ll be to help us now that you’ve nearly killed her dog?”
“I’ve got twenty years on the job—”
“Yeah,” she breaks in. “And I’ve only got ten. We’ve had this argument before. But I’m your partner and you have to follow fucking procedures or I’ll put in for a new partner. How many new partners have you gone through in the past five years?”
“ASAC has his head up his ass and keeps pairing me with wet-behind-the-ears rookies. I don’t have the patience to babysit.” His tone is so condescending, he might as well have added,especially women.
“Well, you’re not going to babysit me. I know damned well how to do my job. Just make sure you’re doing yours.”
I push open the door and scan the room. Rusk stands with the woman close to me at the door, and Daniels sits in a chair against the wall. When he sees me, he stands. “How is she?”
I smile. “She’s going to make it. Thank you for helping me get her here so quickly.”
“Miss Killian?”
I turn to face the female agent with rich brown skin, high cheekbones and large dark eyes. From her voice, I pictured a stuffy, pinched-face woman in polyester slacks, not this beautiful woman in black designer jeans and a short, hip leather jacket. “Yes?”
“I’m Special Agent Jill Matheson, and you’ve met my partner, Nick Rusk. I’m sorry this accident happened, and I’m relieved your dog is going to be fine.”
“The dog attacked me,” Rusk mutters.
I glance at him, giving him the frostiest glare I can muster, but I don’t say anything to him. If Sheba managed to attack him, he wouldn’t have a face left.
