Page 60 of Unseen Danger

Moonlit darkness, crisp air, cold grass beneath her.

And a man, cradling her.

Branson. He was on the ground beside her, holding her against his muscled chest. His arms cocooned her in his warmth. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Something in the words, maybe the aching gentleness in his voice, the sweetness of his protection, made her break.

A sob lurched from her throat, and the tears came. She dug her fingers into his sweater as she trembled against him, crying like she’d never be able to stop.

He stroked her hair, rocking her, holding her. His strength seemed to slowly transfer to her, giving her the courage she needed to get ahold of her tears.

She sniffed and swallowed. Relaxed her strangle hold on his poor sweater.

But it was harder to pull away. The scent of him, masculine and spicey, played with her senses. His warmth, his strength formed a shelter of comfort she didn’t want to leave.

Alvarez whined close by. Poor boy. She’d probably freaked him out.

She managed a shaky breath and leaned back, moving away from Branson.

Her gaze found Alvarez, panting a couple feet away.

And then the embarrassment came. She’d been on patrol. A professional security specialist representing Phoenix K-9. What would Branson think of her? Of the agency?

She reached for Al as she stood, scratching behind his ears and fiddling with his harness. Anything to avoid looking at the man who now knew her darkest secret. Who’d seen her cowering and weak. All because of some noise that reminded her of a prison gate and triggered the flashbacks. The panic.

“How long have you had PTSD?” His deep voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

She closed her eyes. Oh, yes. He knew. All of it.

Her only hope was to own it. To act professional about it now, at least, and try to erase his impression of the last however many minutes. She wiped the moisture off her cheeks before facing him.

He was standing now. A tower of strength and power, looking down at her.

Somehow, her instincts didn’t tell her to fear him this time.

Maybe it was his eyes. The light from the moon seemed to make them glow with gentleness and concern. Vertical lines formed between his eyes as he watched her, his mouth in a pained line.

She cleared her throat. “Six years.”

He dipped his chin in a small nod. No judgment. Just sweetness in those soft blue eyes.

He probably had questions. Probably wanted to know why she had PTSD. But she couldn’t tell the story. Not now. He’d already seen her more vulnerable than any man since…

A shiver trembled through her body.

“You can take the night off. Go home and get some rest.”

Her belly clenched. Was he going to fire her? She shook her head and forced herself to meet his gaze with boldness she didn’t feel. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Concern seemed to lace his tone rather than skepticism.

Relief threatened to weaken her knees, but she firmed her jaw to keep from showing anything but strength. “Totally sure. It was just a fluke. I’m great once it passes. It won’t happen again.” Most of the words weren’t exactly true, but she kept her eyes on his to sell the story all the way. She would be able to do her job the rest of the night. She’d make sure of it.

Though she didn’t really get why she’d had an attack now. She’d felt so good after the training with Phoenix. So strong and in control. Enough to be friendly with Branson.

Jazz had even teased her about flirting with him. Maybe she had, a little.

Then all it took was a noise, a harmless sound, to send her reeling.