Page 9 of Fatal Vision

Chapter Two

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SALISBURY WIGGLED INColton’s arms, wanting down. At least a dozen people were in the gym using parallel bars, training stairs, weights, pulleys, and stationary bikes.

Several women near the door looked him and Sal over and smiled. A large, black therapist frowned and started heading toward him. A female therapist on his right, with a buzz cut and biceps the size of Colton’s thighs, said, “Hey, man, didn’t you see the sign?”

“Um, what?” He didn’t have time for this. He’d snuck in the side door with an older woman visiting her husband, and had already spent twenty minutes in the fancy living section of the place trying to track down Shelby. “Can you tell me if there’s a petite blonde in here with big blue eyes and a bigass attitude?”

“Dude,” the black bouncer was only a few feet away. “You can’t be in here.”

The butchy female therapist stopped helping her patient with a bicep curl and headed for him too. “No dogs allowed unless they’re certified therapy dogs.”

“Oh, he’s certified.” Colton gave Salisbury a stern look, but the dog was squirming like he had to pee. Or he smelled bacon. Colton sniffed the air.

Nope, no bacon.

Raising his voice, he hollered loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I’m looking for Shelby Bells—um, Claiborne. Kinda short, blond, lots of Okie attitude? Anyone?”

A man in a stuffy suit and tie flew out of an office on the other side of the gym, pointing a finger. “Do not let him in here.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Bouncer said.

“How did you get past the front desk?” Butchy asked.

Sal snapped and growled, gaze pinned on Mr. Suit. The dog took that moment to break free, scratching Colton’s side with his nails as he launched himself at the man bearing down on them.

Covert mission this was not.

Colton dodged Bouncer’s hand as the big man reached for him, then sidestepped Butchie and ran after Salisbury. The dog raced around various patients, barking furiously at Suit.

Suit whipped his jacket back and Colton’s heart did a triple whammy.

Holster.

Gun.

Shit.

Security may have been lacking at the entrances, but inside here, they apparently took it seriously.

Chaos reigned as people shouted and either dodgedforthe dog or out of Salisbury’s way.

“Salisbury!” Colton called, jumping over a stack of mats. “Cease!”

The dog stopped two feet in front of Suit, lips curled in a low growl. The man didn’t seem too worried about the dog; his hard gaze was pinned on Colton.

Rigid stance, buzz cut, twitchy fingers hovering over his piece. Military or law enforcement? Was he really going to pull a weapon in here? With all these people?

Over a fucking twelve-pound dog?

Grabbing Sal by the scruff, Colton picked him up and shushed him. That’s all he needed—to get the sorry mutt shot.

He put on his best good-ol’-boy smile. “Sorry about that, man. He’s a therapy dog, but we’re still working out a few kinks, like his temperament. You haven’t seen a short, blond gal in here, have you?”

Bouncer came up behind Colton and grabbed him by the back of his jacket collar and Colton suddenly knew how Sal felt, struggling in his grasp. Bouncer flung Colton around and pushed him toward the door. “You,out.”