Page 42 of The Family Pet

On the third night, I lay on my bed staring at the blank TV on the opposite wall. I hadn’t bothered to turn it on because everything I found was trash and I had no interest. Instead, I picked up my phone and texted Ridge.

Bowie: How is our pup?

A few moments later, he replied.

My Boy: Good. Missing you.

I didn’t know if he meant Saint or himself, but I suspected they both did.

Bowie: How is he handling it?

I hadn’t asked Saint how he felt after we saw Johnny, and I wished I had. He’d clearly been distraught, but it had been imperative to get him to safety before worrying about his emotional well-being. I knew Johnny. He wouldn’t give up, even with a beaten face and a bruised ego. He was used to getting his own way.

The three blinking dots at the bottom of the screen told me Ridge was typing, and it stopped and started a few times. I watched intently, a protective urge welling inside me. I needed them to be closer so I could keep them safe; I hated them being so far away.

My Boy: He’s quiet. I’ve been trying to get a reaction out of him but have gotten nothing.

Bowie: Keep an eye on him.

My Boy: Everything okay there?

I stared around the room. Had it always felt this empty? Fuck. I rarely spent any time alone in here since I’d taken Saint in.

I began to type an answer when my phone buzzed, alerting me to movement on the grounds. I switched out of my message app to the one that controlled the security cameras, which I’d installed a few years ago. They weren’t anything amazing, but they did their job, letting me know when someone was hanging around. I had a few aimed around the exterior of the house, as well as two directed toward the front and back yards. The cameras I usually checked were the ones sprinkled throughout the house that I’d used to communicate with Saint and Ridge when I felt the need. They were invisible to the eye, unless you knew what to search for. If someone was trying to get into my home, they wouldn’t see the lenses unless they were extremely well trained.

I dropped my phone and jumped out of the bed, walking straight to my closet. Once I’d opened the door, I crouched and unlocked a safe in the bottom where I kept my Beretta. I snatched out the gun, then took off the safety and grabbed my phone from the mattress. I checked the feed from the security cameras again and spotted a huge man outside in what appeared to be camouflaged clothing.

He was staring into the camera.

I tensed.

He knew the lens was there and it only took a second before my view of him went black.

Fuck.

I called 9-1-1 and held the phone to my ear as I crept out of my bedroom and along the hallway. The house was in darkness and it was quieter than a graveyard.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The bored, droning tone of the woman who took my call had me wincing.

“My name is Bowie Godfrey, and I live at 28 Goldleaf Drive on Vert Island. There is someone in my house.” I crept toward the stairs but didn’t switch on the lights. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me—hopefully. I had an advantage because I knew my own home’s layout better than anyone else.

“Do you believe them to be armed, Mr. Godfrey?” Her voice got a bounce in it, and I rolled my eyes.

“Possibly. They destroyed a security camera in the front yard.” I kept my words low and precise. “I believe they are here to hurt me and my son for my brother, Johnny Godfrey, who’s on the run for fraud. He came back to New Gothenburg to get his son, but when his son refused to leave with him, Johnny threatened my life.”

Sure, the exact circumstances were lies, but I knew what to say to get the cops here quickly. Besides, in spirit, what I’d said was true. The New Gothenburg Police Department loved being on the news for catching bad guys while saving the rich, and if they could stop the men trying to hurt me, while also getting a lead on a wanted criminal like Johnny, their faces would be all over the national news.

“Mr. Godfrey, find a safe room in the house where you can barricade yourself until help arrives. The police are on their way. Stay on the line with me so I can assist you if needed.”

I held in a snort. The Godfrey name meant something, and I wasn’t going to be a coward like my brother. Fuck that. I was a man of integrity, and I wouldn’t shy away from some bastards invading my home. If they wanted me, they would have to fight to take me.

“Just send help as fast as possible.” I ended the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of my pajama pants. Clutching the Beretta between my hands, I took the steps carefully, listening for any unusual sounds. I didn’t bother looking at the other cameras because if they knew where the ones in my front yard had been positioned, they would know about the others, too, and had either gotten rid of them or weren’t heading in this direction.

I paused when I reached the bottom of the stairs and waited. A small squeaking sound made me smirk. Gotcha. I moved along the hallway that led toward the kitchen and where I knew the squeaky door was located, careful not to hit anything along the way. Yet, I wasn’t cautious enough. My foot hit something on the floor that felt like one of Ridge’s heavy law books and the sound echoed as it skidded and smacked a wall. I froze, mentally cursing Ridge for leaving his belongings lying around, which wasn’t uncommon for him when he got home for the day.

I waited and jumped when the rapid fire of automatic bullets ricocheted around my head. I ducked, fear freezing the blood in my veins as I found cover near the stairs, hoping the bullets wouldn’t penetrate the thick wood.

It only took half a minute before the firing stopped.