Page 7 of Under Fire

Rod’s head whipped toward Matt.

“I was at PSI with my teammates until Delilah called me for help. We had just finished a training session with the bodyguard class. Aside from an unshakable alibi, I would never hurt Delilah. PSI also doesn’t have a lock on the black combat boot supply in Dunlap County. Anyone could have worn boots like ours. We order them in bulk from a supplier who also sells to the public nationally.”

“I guess you’ve worn your combat gear in and around Delilah’s house.”

Matt inclined his head. “So have my teammates. We’ve grilled a few burgers at her place and mine the past couple months.”

“He also repairs stuff around the house every time he comes over,” Delilah added. She felt guilty when he did, but Matt said he liked doing it.

Rod eyed him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Is that right? I have a few repairs around the house I’d be glad to hand off to you.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Ha ha. You’re on your own, buddy.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying.” The detective returned his attention to Delilah. “No enemies, you said. What about an angry boyfriend?”

Her cheeks burned as she felt Matt’s gaze on her face. “No boyfriends.”

Rod was silent a moment, his gaze assessing. “Ever?”

Oh, man. Did he have to point out how pathetic her social life had been? Delilah shook her head.

“What about disputes with neighbors or relatives?”

Pain speared her heart at the mention of relatives. “No one.”

“Any problems with customers? Someone dissatisfied with the candles or think you charged too much for the product?”

She shook her head slightly, fighting to stay awake.

“What about his clothes? Did you notice your attacker’s clothes?”

“Black. T-shirt like Matt wears. Jeans, not camouflage pants or cargoes like PSI uses.”

“Gloves?”

Delilah frowned. “Don’t know. Didn’t see his hands. I only felt them on my back for an instant.”

“He didn’t strike you with them?”

“No.”

“You sure didn’t see his face?”

“I was too busy protecting myself from kicks to look at his face. Besides, it was dark inside the house.” Another frown.

“What is it?”

“I always leave the light on over the stove and the living room to give me enough light to see. The living room light was off and it shouldn’t have been. Maybe the bulb blew.”

“Or maybe the clown who hurt you turned it off,” Matt said.

“What about scents?” Rod asked. “Do you remember any scents on his clothing or person?”

She was having trouble focusing. What did he want to know? Oh, yes. Scents. “A musky scent. Maybe a cologne.” Just the thought of that scent made her stomach churn.

“Let’s go back to the men in your life,” Rod said. “Anyone angry because you turned him down for a date?”

“Rod, she answered your question,” Matt said softly.

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