Page 30 of Lethal Danger

And Carson’s mistake may be about to cost another life.

A nudge against Jazz’s leg dragged her attention from the riveting pages of Seconds in Shadow, but she couldn’t stop there. She had to turn the page to the next chapter, find out what Carson had realized.

A slobbery jaw slid across her arm.

“Eww, Flash.” She gave the Malinois a look with her mouth in a scrunched blend of smile and grossed-out.

He stood next to her favorite armchair in her apartment, staring at her as if completely unaware of how ill-timed his interruption was.

“I was in a really good part, bud.” She flipped the book to the back cover, examining Hawthorne Emerson’s photo that she’d seen so many times. It was so funny to think of him as Hawthorne alone, not coupled with his last name as she’d always said it before. She could see the resemblance in his photo clearly now. Though, in her defense, he did look drastically different with the beard that hid the handsome lines of his face and features.

She still couldn’t believe she’d actually met her favorite author. Worked with him. Climbed a Ferris wheel with him. How crazy was that?

“Pinch me now, Flash.”

The Malinois panted as he stared at her, backing up slightly, like he was waiting for her to do something.

“What?” She looked at her watch. 6:40 p.m. “Oh, my goodness. I’ve been reading for nearly two hours? Sorry, bud.” She’d meant to go for a run with Flash when she got home after her shift ended at four. But then she’d seen Carson Steele sitting on the table. She couldn’t resist at least starting the first little bit.

She should’ve known she’d get sucked in as usual. And this novel might be the best yet. As she devoured every page, she noticed something funny happening. Instead of the voice she’d always heard in her head as the narrator, she was starting to hear a slightly huskier voice. Hawthorne’s voice.

She smiled. Didn’t ruin the reading experience one bit.

Flash whined.

She looked away from Hawthorne’s photo, which her gaze had somehow locked onto again. “Sorry, Flash. You’re right. We need a run.” Checking the time again, she stood and hurried to change into her running gear.

It was technically past Flash’s dinner time. And hers. But with the trail only ten minutes away, they should be able to finish their run before dark. Dinner could wait until they got back.

Her prediction was right, though barely. The sun set during the tail end of their hour-long run, but the sky didn’t become fully dark until she was driving home.

As she slowed and turned into the apartment complex parking lot, her mind was already skipping ahead to throwing a frozen entrée into the microwave and jumping back into the Carson Steele novel as quickly as she could. She’d been turning it over in her mind during the run, trying to puzzle out how Carson knew the series of murders weren’t done by a serial killer.

Hawthorne sure was a clever guy.

Jazz found an open stall far from her apartment building. The additional exercise wouldn’t hurt.

Flash whined from the back seat.

“I know, we’re late on dinner. You’ll have to blame Hawthorne for writing such a good book.” Jazz grinned at the Malinois’ reflection in the rearview mirror. “You can talk to him about it tomorrow.”

Would he be there tomorrow? During her shift again? Maybe she should’ve checked the duty roster.

Jazz dropped out of her SUV and opened the side door for Flash.

She’d love to tell Haw—

Flash launched a string of short barks.

Jazz hit the pavement just as shots pierced the night.

Ten

Jazz crouched beside the back tire of her SUV, Flash standing next to her as bullets whizzed past.

She put her hand on the K-9’s head, indebted to him once again for saving her life.

His strung-together short barks meant one thing. They were about to be attacked. Usually bombs or enemy fire.

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