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“Where’s the dog?” she asked in a whisper. “Wouldn’t the dog be barking?”

A ripple of fear went through her.

Could Jem have hurt Miri’s dog?

Miri would be fucking homicidal if anyone harmed a hair on Panther’s head. She and Black both adored that big, black, gangly, goodnatured wolfhound pup. Hell, most of the office did. He’d been the company mascot ever since Miriam brought him back from Moscow as a tiny puppy with the comically deep bark.

Jax finished scanning with his light, and probably his headset.

He motioned towards the guest bedroom with the gun he gripped in both hands.

Kiko’s jaw clenched. She didn’t ask if he’d seen anyone in there alive.

They began walking that way together, still roughly back to back.

She kept her gun up the whole way down the hall, and checked the corners as they passed alcoves and the boss’s privateoffice. It only struck her as crazy later, when it occurred to her that she likely wouldn’t have been able to shoot Jem with enough precision to get him in the leg, much less the knee, not if he came running at her fast enough.

Even at the time, she hoped like hell the gun itself would be deterrence enough.

She didn’t like the idea of shooting him in the leg.

But what else could she do? Throw it at him?

Jax shoved open the door to the guest bedroom and darted inside, and Kiko turned around to follow him. They’d barely been in there twenty seconds when Jax lowered his gun.

“Nothing,” he said, sounding frustrated. “We’re too late.”

Kiko felt her heart sink.

She knew in her gut he was right, but some part of her remained briefly in denial.

She turned all the way around, taking in every part of the room she could see. She still gripped her gun as she walked down one side of the room, checking all of the corners and shadows as she went. Jax checked the bathroom, then clicked on the overhead light.

The room remained just as empty.

Jem wasn’t there.

The girl wasn’t there, either, which felt more ominous.

In the other room, Kiko heard the front door slam open. Another collection of sounds reached her ears as a much larger group of people rushed into the penthouse.

“In here!” she yelled out, not bothering with the coms.

She holstered her gun, exhaling a few choice swear words under her breath.

She walked around to the other side of the bed, looking for clues, for blood, for anything that might help them, and came to a dead stop, staring at the carpet. As soon as she made sense ofwhat was lying there, she gasped, then got down on her hands and knees.

“Goddamn it,” she snapped.

Panther was sprawled out on his side, his long legs and big paws akimbo, his brown eyes closed, his mouth slightly open. Kiko laid a hand on the dog’s lean ribcage, and let out a relieved, angry breath when she felt the steady heartbeat, the rise and fall of his bones from the dog’s working lungs.

She felt all over the rest of the dog then, looking for injuries through his soft black fur. She was still doing that when Miri burst into the room, almost like she knew.

In seconds, the doc was down on the floor next to Kiko.

“He’s alive,” Kiko said at once, if only to head off Miri’s panic. “I haven’t found any injuries, but we should get him to the medical center and have Vanessa do some x-rays, just to be sure––”

“What happened?” Miri burst out. Her hands were careful on the dog, obviously feeling him over for injuries as well.