Oh God. How soon would the hitman come after her?

A high whine filled her head—the beginning of panic. She shoved her laptop and papers into her backpack, pulled it on, and half-ran for the door.

Behind the counter, Sarah called, “Julie?”

Pushing open the door, Audrey ran full-tilt into Bull.

“Yo, champ.” As she tried to dodge around him, his massive hand closed on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She broke into a bitter, ugly laugh. “Your brother Gabe is what’s wrong. He…he…” Her mouth closed, and she turned.

The patrol car was parked in front of the station. He was there.

Pulling away from Bull, she ran across the street, past Regina at the reception desk, and into the station.

Gabe was in his office, filing papers in a cabinet. “Julie?”

“You insufferable bastard.” She stalked over, wanting to make him hurt as much as she hurt. Because she’d liked him. Why had she liked him?

“What?”

“You’ve probably gotten me killed, you…you arrogant asshole. You knew I was hiding. You knew I’d been hurt, and you still went and made inquiries about me in Chicago.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

How stupid did he think she was? “Oh, it surely was. You heard me blurt out my name. You’re the only one who knows I’m from Chicago.” Frustration and anger grew so overwhelming that tears filled her eyes. “I t-trusted you.”

No, no, she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of this bastard. A sob broke from her, and she ran for the door.

He caught her arm, his grip as unyielding as his voice. “Uh-uh. This time we really are going to talk.”

“No.”

Gripping her shoulders, he turned her to face him.

“No, no, no.” She shoved with one hand and used the other to pound his rock-hard chest. Blindly, stupidly, just wanting…wanting to make him feel.

“Julie, it wasn’t me, sweetheart. I told Baumer you were from Chicago—I’m guilty of that. But he sent the inquiry without permission. I just found out what he’d done an hour ago and planned to talk to you about it today.” His voice was calm. Direct.

And undeniably honest. He hadn’t been the one who queried the Chicago police force about her.

Muscles turning to water, her arms dropped. Tears filled her eyes as the sense of betrayal drained away.

“Oh, hell, Julie. I’m sorry.” He pulled off her backpack and firmly drew her into his arms.

Starting to cry, she tried to pull away.

“Shhh.” He only pulled her closer, holding her as she sobbed. His palm moved up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes.

She’d been so scared and alone. And now, she felt safe.

Cared for.

His shirt smelled like laundry soap and wilderness, and she could hear his heart, a slow lub-dub…because she’d stopped crying.