Agent in Training by Jerri Drennen

sent her common sense straight out the window. Somehow she needed to put him out of her mind and focus on her father and her career. Those two things mattered. Certainly not some smart-mouthed man with an ego the size of Asia.
    Instead of taking her usual route through the revolving doors, Shiloh decided to take the elevator to the basement where she’d parked her Lexus. She didn’t feel like basking in the sunlight or taking in the fresh summer air. She’d settle for the dreary, dank passageway instead. It fit her mood better.
    On her way to her car, she heard a shuffling from somewhere in the garage. Shoes scraped the pavement behind her. She whirled, searching the dimly lit area, but all she saw was concrete walls and cars.
    Her heart sped up, as did her stride. She reached inside her handbag for her keys and with shaky hands pulled them out. Another scuffing sound, nearer, distracted her and she stopped to listen. Silence.
    Was her imagination running away with her? She’d never noticed how eerie it was down here alone. She fumbled and dropped the key ring onto the pavement.
    She swallowed hard, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck charge.
    Shiloh took a deep breath and leaned over to pick up her keys, mentally scolding herself for being paranoid. A hiss echoed in her ear. Then the driver’s side window of her car shattered, spraying pieces of glass everywhere.
    Instinct had her dropping to the ground. Tempered glass cut into her as she frantically searched the darkness for any sign of a gunman. Where had the shot come from? What angle?
    Her gun—she needed to get to her gun. Don’t panic Shiloh. You can do this .
    Where was her purse?
    Turning her head, she spotted the bag toward the back side panel of the car. She scooted on her hands and knees––slivers of glass cut into them. Another shot rang out, narrowly missing her right thigh. The impact threw chunks of concrete up. White powered mist filled the air.
    The gunman’s trajectory had changed. She could tell he was moving in on her. She was running out of time.
    With determination, she lunged for her handbag and pulled it to her. There was a bullet hole in the center. Oh God .
    She withdrew her Glock. No gunsmith had to tell her it was now disabled. Freakish luck. Now what?
    Her phone.
    With shaky fingers, she reached back inside her bag, pulling out her cell.
    She punched a button, noting that it said Nicholas Trent. Great . Why had she thought it a good idea to put all DNS agent numbers in her phone?
    It rang once… twice.
    “Trent,” his deep voice said.
    “Nicholas, you have to list…”
    “Director, I don’t need an apology.”
    “Please, Nick. I’m in the lower-level parking garage…”
    Another shot rang out, blowing out her right front tire. The explosion sent her scrambling backwards, and left her ears ringing.
    “Shit.” She heard Nicholas say. Then nothing.
    Was he coming? Could she blame him if he didn’t? Not really. Especially after what had happened earlier between them in the elevator.
    Another round ricocheted off the concrete pillars around her, adding to the white smoke. The chalky air was getting hard to breathe. Whoever was shooting at her was playing a cat and mouse game because he should have been on her by now. He must know she didn’t have the use of her weapon.
    Footfalls echoed in the distance—someone was coming. Nicholas . He was on his way. “Thank God.”
    When she finally saw him, she rose and started running toward him.
    From somewhere she heard the revving of an engine. The smell of exhaust filled the air. The combination of powder and fumes made her lightheaded.
    A car barreled toward her, its headlights blinding.
    She tried to move but was paralyzed. Her thoughts snapped instantly to her father and what would happen to him if she were gone. For a split second she speculated as to how long he’d survive at the mercy of the state. Not long at Oak Haven, she was sure.
    She closed her eyes, afraid to