Agent-In-Training. Terri Reed

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       THREE

      Zara sucked in a sharp breath. The cool night air stung her lungs. The adrenaline pumping through her veins revved up. The man she’d shot was part of the Dupree Crime Syndicate. As, no doubt, was the man who’d escaped.

      Uh-oh. She was on their hit list now.

      All law enforcement agencies knew of Reginald Dupree. He was as ruthless as they came. He’d brought his uncle, Angus Dupree, into the crime business, and together they had built a seemingly untouchable criminal empire that had spread across the US like a virus.

      “What are the Duprees doing in Billings?” Thus far the south-central part of Montana had been immune.

      “And why rob a jewelry store?” Dylan asked. “Are they that hard up for funds?”

      “Once the owner arrives and inventories the store, he’ll know what they took,” her dad said.

      “I’ll head to the hospital,” Max said. “I want answers, and Kevin Vaughn is going to provide them.”

      “I’ll go with you,” her dad said. He turned to Zara. “Go home and get some rest. You look beat. I’ll send a patrol officer to watch your house.”

      “Thanks, Dad,” she said with affection. She had to admit she was exhausted and hyped up at the same. “We’ll head home.”

      “I’ll follow you,” Dylan said as he fell into step beside her and Radar.

      “Not necessary.” She wasn’t some namby-pamby who couldn’t take care of herself. “Radar and I will be fine. Dad’s sending a patrol officer over.”

      “I’m sure you will be fine, but I’ll feel better if I make sure you get home safely.” He captured her hand. Warmth spread up her arm. “Indulge me, please?”

      As much as she wanted to resist his plea, she knew she wouldn’t. She understood better than anyone why he was playing the overprotective big brother.

      After losing his parents, he feared losing anyone else he was close to. A fear most people shared. Her included.

      That was where faith in God made such a difference. Knowing He was in control gave her peace. She wished Dylan would turn to God rather than allow his fear to continue to overwhelm him.

      “Fine. You can escort us home,” she said. “I have one of Mom’s apple pies to finish.” Dylan had a weakness for her mom’s cooking.

      He grinned. “Thank you, bug.”

      The childhood nickname irked, reminding her he’d never see her as more than his best friend’s little sister. She slipped her hand from his, determined to guard her heart and act professionally.

      They worked together now, and continuing to crush on him, as she had for the past ten years, wasn’t an option. Letting herself hope for more from Dylan would only result in heartbreak. A fate she hoped to avoid.

      * * *

      Zara lived in a cute little two-bedroom, single-story house in a tree-lined residential neighborhood. Dylan stepped inside, appreciating the homey feel.

      He liked the way the hardwood floors peeked out from beneath lively patterned rugs. Leather love seats with colorful afghans draped over the backs, and a glass coffee table wedged between them created a conversational setting. There was no television in the living room, only an old record player and a bookshelf full of record albums, some in tattered covers.

      He smiled. “I see you’re still collecting vinyl.”

      She shrugged. “Some things never go out of style.”

      Her dark ponytail was askew and her complexion was pale in the warm glow of the frosted overhead light. Dirt smudged her pink sweater and jeans. He noticed dark circles of fatigue forming beneath her hazel-green eyes. Concern arched through him.

      She’d had a distressing night. Though she was no longer on the job, she’d responded to a stressful situation and used her weapon. Thankfully, the wound she’d inflicted on the perpetrator hadn’t been a death blow. The suspect would recover. But Dylan knew anytime an officer fired his or her sidearm it was traumatic.