Trap 'N' Trace by Tee O' Fallon
Series: Federal K-9 #4
Publication date: June 15th, 2019
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
For wealthy socialite Katrina Vanderburg, business meetings and charity galas are all part of her orderly, structured world--one that gets blown to hell after finding two dead bodies in the same day. The police think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. FBI Special Agent Dayne Andrews thinks otherwise. Dayne and his K-9, Remy, are tracking a cold-blooded killer, and that trail... leads straight to Kat.
Kat and her rescue shelter--The Canine Haven--are the only common denominators between the murders, and Dayne is convinced she's dead center in the killer's sights. Protecting her will test every ounce of his steely resolve. She's the most intriguing woman he's every met. And everything he shouldn't want. Too bad neither of them seem to have gotten the memo.
And they need to focus on catching a killer now more than ever. Because if Dayne and Remy fail in their mission, nothing will stand between Kat and the killer's deadly blade.
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Excerpt
Dayne manipulated her arm and shoulder in different directions then abruptly dropped his hands and took an awkward step back. "I don't think anything's broken, but the only way to confirm that is with X-rays. Did you take anything for the pain?"
"Yes. It didn't help."
"I can see why." He dipped his head to the ugly bruise that had pretty much doubled in size in the last hour. "Do you have an ice pack?"
"In the freezer." She nodded to the stainless steel Thermidor against the far wall. "Emily and I keep several in there in case we pull something during kickboxing."
He practically bolted to the freezer then jerked open the door with what seemed like more force than necessary. The ice packs were staring him in the face on one of the shelves, but he didn't grab one right away. He stood there with his broad back to her, his entire body frozen like a block of ice.
A long moment passed before he grabbed one of the packs then shut the freezer door. He held the pack out to her, maintaining so much distance between them it was obviously intentional. "Hold this to your shoulder for twenty minutes, three times a day for the next forty-eight hours."
"Thank you." She took the ice pack, taking extra care not to touch his hand. What was that about? One minute they'd been getting along fine--not that she cared, not really, anyway--the next, he acted as if she had the cooties.
She pressed the ice pack against the bruise, flinching as it made contact. "I told Detective Paulson I'll be hiring a security guard company first thing in the morning. That way, neither the police department nor the FBI will have to shoulder the burden of my safety."
His brows met. "Your safety is not a burden."
"Then why do you look physically ill?"
"Do I?" He shoved one hand in his pocket, making his biceps bunch.
"You do." A little, anyway.
"I'm not." A muscle in his cheek ticked. "And, I'm not going anywhere. I don't believe in coincidence, and you shouldn't, either. In case it's escaped your attention, there's a connection between the two victims."
"Okay, I'll bite." She crossed her arms, inadvertently plumping her breasts against the lacy cups of her nightie then quickly uncrossing them. "What's the connection?"
"You," he said softly. "You were at both locations. So, like it or not, you now have round-the-clock protection, and I'm not talking about some rent-a-cop agency."
She advanced on him until she was a foot away. "Then what are you talking about?"
"Me." He pushed from the counter, closing the gap to a few inches. "Until this investigation is over, you don't go anywhere without me glued to your six."
She snorted. "Is that alpha male jargon for glued to my ass?"
"It means you're stuck with me, twenty-four seven."
It took another few seconds for the full meaning of his intentions to take root. "No." She shook her head. "That's not happening." Not with him, anyway. One night was fine but having him around all the time would drive her--and her body--crazy.
"Yes. It didn't help."
"I can see why." He dipped his head to the ugly bruise that had pretty much doubled in size in the last hour. "Do you have an ice pack?"
"In the freezer." She nodded to the stainless steel Thermidor against the far wall. "Emily and I keep several in there in case we pull something during kickboxing."
He practically bolted to the freezer then jerked open the door with what seemed like more force than necessary. The ice packs were staring him in the face on one of the shelves, but he didn't grab one right away. He stood there with his broad back to her, his entire body frozen like a block of ice.
A long moment passed before he grabbed one of the packs then shut the freezer door. He held the pack out to her, maintaining so much distance between them it was obviously intentional. "Hold this to your shoulder for twenty minutes, three times a day for the next forty-eight hours."
"Thank you." She took the ice pack, taking extra care not to touch his hand. What was that about? One minute they'd been getting along fine--not that she cared, not really, anyway--the next, he acted as if she had the cooties.
She pressed the ice pack against the bruise, flinching as it made contact. "I told Detective Paulson I'll be hiring a security guard company first thing in the morning. That way, neither the police department nor the FBI will have to shoulder the burden of my safety."
His brows met. "Your safety is not a burden."
"Then why do you look physically ill?"
"Do I?" He shoved one hand in his pocket, making his biceps bunch.
"You do." A little, anyway.
"I'm not." A muscle in his cheek ticked. "And, I'm not going anywhere. I don't believe in coincidence, and you shouldn't, either. In case it's escaped your attention, there's a connection between the two victims."
"Okay, I'll bite." She crossed her arms, inadvertently plumping her breasts against the lacy cups of her nightie then quickly uncrossing them. "What's the connection?"
"You," he said softly. "You were at both locations. So, like it or not, you now have round-the-clock protection, and I'm not talking about some rent-a-cop agency."
She advanced on him until she was a foot away. "Then what are you talking about?"
"Me." He pushed from the counter, closing the gap to a few inches. "Until this investigation is over, you don't go anywhere without me glued to your six."
She snorted. "Is that alpha male jargon for glued to my ass?"
"It means you're stuck with me, twenty-four seven."
It took another few seconds for the full meaning of his intentions to take root. "No." She shook her head. "That's not happening." Not with him, anyway. One night was fine but having him around all the time would drive her--and her body--crazy.
About the Author:
Tee O'Fallon is the author of the Federal K-9 Series and the NYPD Blue & Gold Series. Tee has been a federal agent for twenty-three years and is now a police investigator giving her hands-on experience in the field of law enforcement that she combines with her love of romantic suspense. When not writing, Tee enjoy cooking, gardening, chocolate, lychee martinis, and spending time with her Belgian Sheepdogs, Loki and Kyrie. Tee loves hearing from her readers and can be contacted via her website where you can also sign up for Tee's newsletter.
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