Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me!”

            He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He relayed the information that he’d shared with Raeburn.

            “Good. Agent Hunter . . .” She sighed. “Tom. You know I’ve been recused.”

            “I know.”

            “Which is why you used the burner.”

            “Yes, ma’am. Would you prefer that I don’t call you?”

            She made a rude sound. “No. I want you to use another number.” She rattled it off.

            Tom grinned. “You have a burner? Agent Molina, I must admit that you’ve surprised me.”

            “Baby agents,” she muttered. “You think you invented all the tricks. But thank you. I appreciate the heads-up. Good night.”

            Tom shut down his throwaway laptop and returned it to the safe. He’d been antsy and had needed to run, but now he was exhausted. Time for bed.

            “Come on, Pebbles. You want to go out one more time?”

            But Pebbles didn’t follow him to the office door. She tensed, then growled low, head cocked toward the shared wall.

            Concerned, Tom pressed his ear to the wall and a moment later heard what Pebbles had. Liza was screaming. His pulse rocketed up. No. He would not lose her, too. “Pebbles, come.”

            Grabbing his gun and the keys to Liza’s side of the duplex, he ran down the stairs and through the kitchen into the backyard, calling up the cameras on his phone. No one was at the front and the alarm was still set. His hands were shaking as he shoved the key into the lock on her kitchen door.

            He didn’t disarm the alarm, leaving it to count down. In sixty seconds, it would go off. If there was an intruder, the blaring sound might startle them. And if something happens to me, the police will still be called.

            Cell phone in one hand, his gun in the other, he took the stairs three at a time. Midway up, Pebbles raced past him and through Liza’s open bedroom door.

            “Pebbles? What the hell?” he heard her say, but her voice was hoarse and broken.

            He stopped in her doorway to disable the alarm. But also to let his heart calm down. She was okay. She was unhurt, at least. But even though the screams had stopped, she was sobbing. Pebbles had climbed onto her bed and she had her arms around the dog, rocking her.

            “Liza?” Tom asked, then entered when she didn’t answer. He figured she would have told him to leave if that was what she’d wanted. She still might, and he’d cede to her wishes.

            At least he knew she was all right. Physically. Psychologically, not so much. She visibly shook as she rocked Pebbles, her fingers clenched in the dog’s short hair.

            He couldn’t let her cry. Nudging Pebbles off the bed, Tom took her place and pulled Liza onto his lap, blankets and all. She didn’t fight him when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and held on, burying her face against his chest.

            “Shhh,” he soothed, her sobs breaking his heart. “It was a nightmare. It’s not real.”

            She shook her head but said nothing. Just clung harder.

            It was then that he realized she’d fallen asleep with the light on and earbuds in her ears. They’d fallen out at some point, the cords visible against the white of her pillow. He lifted one of the buds to his own ear and heard Garth Brooks singing. Her laptop was overturned on its side, still open, and next to it was a spiral notebook.

            Keeping one arm tightly around her, he righted her laptop. The screen woke up, displaying the photo she kept as her wallpaper. He’d have to lecture her again about computer security. She didn’t use a password even though he’d set one up for her.

            He’d seen the wallpaper photo before. It was Liza and eleven other soldiers, all holding their weapons and smiling. All he knew was that it had been taken while she’d been deployed in Kabul.

            The notebook was opened to a page bearing a sketch that he’d never seen before. He tugged the notebook closer so that he could see the sketch more clearly. It wasn’t particularly artistic, but it didn’t have to be for him to get the gist of its purpose.