Agent-In-Training

He smiled. “I see you’re still collecting vinyl.”

She shrugged. “Some things never go out of style.”

Her dark ponytail was askew and her complexion was pale in the warm glow of the frosted overhead light. Dirt smudged her pink sweater and jeans. He noticed dark circles of fatigue forming beneath her hazel-green eyes. Concern arched through him.

She’d had a distressing night. Though she was no longer on the job, she’d responded to a stressful situation and used her weapon. Thankfully, the wound she’d inflicted on the perpetrator hadn’t been a death blow. The suspect would recover. But Dylan knew anytime an officer fired his or her sidearm it was traumatic.

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