own options open.
She slowly opened the folder, gaze flicking back and forth between it and him. He saw the exact moment the contents registered with her. Her face went slack and then she flipped the folder closed.
The look she leveled at him said that she held him personally responsible for the contents. âThatâs disgusting.â
âDamn straight.â He grabbed the folder and shook out the contents, then spread out between them a series of eight-by-ten color glossies. âTake a good look, Officer Jamieson.â
She took an involuntary step back. âIâve seen enough.â
He rounded the table and pulled out the chair nearest her. âSit down.â
She stiffened but moved the few steps it took to reach the chair. He immediately retreated to the other side of the table, offering a little respect for her pride.
Scott saw her gaze move toward the pictures then dance away, so he shoved them closer to her. âWhat? You canât handle a little blood and gore?â
He was being a manipulative bastard but he also knew that what he had placed before her was real hard evidence of a crime. He needed her help to find and arrest the perpetrators.
He stabbed a particularly gory shot with his forefinger. âThis is what these scumbags are doing to move their product.â
Cole gave him a long hostile glare and then lowered her gaze very reluctantly until she was staring at the series of pictures of dead puppies in a Dumpster. It looked like a slaughterhouse. Their once sleek fat bellies had been slit open and disemboweled.
She swallowed carefully. She had seen bodies of people who had died violently, had even attended an autopsy once. No way was she going to show vulnerability over dead puppies to the one man in the world she once thought she could always count on, but no longer trusted with her emotions. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen.
Scott was suddenly there beside her, a hand on her shoulder meant to steady her in her chair.
Cole squeezed her eyes shut, willing tears not to fall. âIâm okay.â Her voice sounded strong in her own ears but when she tried to stand she realized she had no strength to accomplish the task.
He knelt down next to her as his other hand settled heavily on her opposite shoulder. âDeep breath.â His voice hadnât risen above a whisper but it made her suck in a long ribbon of air.
The growl from the kitchen doorway surprised both of them. Hugo stood with paws on top of the gate. Thatâs when Scott realized that the gate was a polite fiction. It was a barrier as long as the big guy played nice. If he changed his mind?
Hugo cleared the gate seemingly without effort and came forward, rear end wagging. A suspect might be deceived by that shaggy-dog tail wag but Cole knew it meant Hugo was ready for action.
She straightened immediately. âHugo. Platz! Blieb! â
Hugo plopped his body on the tile floor but his gaze remained on the stranger as he wriggled and whined in place. He barked twice, the sounds guttural and loud.
Cole looked up at Scott. âTake your hands off me. Slowly.â
He did just as she asked and then sat back on his heels to put space between them.
She rose and, without even a backward look, headed for the kitchen. As she passed Hugo she said, âHier.â He turned instantly and fell into step beside her.
Once in the kitchen Cole paused. Hugo stood gazing up at her, ready for any directive. âLass es.â
Hugo turned his big head back toward the dining room and growled deep in his throat, a sound that left no doubt about his opinion of her guest.
Cole couldnât help but smile. âYes. Heâs a pain in the ass. But we donât attack DEA officers.â She reached for a treat. âHere you go. Gute Hund .â
Hugo swallowed then looked back toward the dining room a second time. She knew how things must seem to him. Trained to protect, Hugo wanted nothing so much as to get