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Francie let out a sharp yip from her pink princess bed as Brady’s police scanner went crazy with incoming alerts. I shot up from the couch, nearly upending my paper plate of takeout Chinese as the words “armed robbery in progress” came across the speaker.
On cue, I got a text from Bonnie, our dispatcher, that all hands were needed on deck and I had to report.
Daisy let out a deepwoofthat made Francie trot over to the other dog’s bed to ascertain she did not need assistance. Pancake, my brother’s other dog, popped up from where he’d crammed himself behind her to sniff at Francie and try to lick her face until she showed him her tiny fangs.
Undeterred, his tongue swept over her ear, and she started barking up a storm that fully blocked out the scanner’s squawking.
Some peaceful night this was so far.
I sighed as I stalked into the kitchen to dump my Chinese into some Tupperware for later before I went into Brady’s bedroom to get back into my uniform and strap on my gear.
Daisy decided to try to calm the fracas by silencing the yipping with her own more authoritative bark, but all it did was make it nearly impossible for Bonnie to hear me when I called in to let her know I was on my way. She gave me the details—young suspect, potentially armed—and we hung up so I could get my ass over to the Quik Pump gas station.
I opened the treat bag sitting on the counter. Brady had left numerous treats, special toys, plus an older brotherly assortment of notes with instructions I hadn’t taken the time to read.
Definitely couldn’t do that now.
I tossed treats toward the waiting pups, making sure to evenly distribute them to all three of them. I hoped like hell it would be enough to distract them from destroying the apartment.
“Be back later, girls. And guy. Be good, won’t you?” I called over my shoulder as I stepped into the hall and shut the door behind me.
And bumped into Pocket Plus backing out of Tabitha’s apartment across the hall with her arms full of…yarn? What the hell?
“What are you doing here?” we asked in unison.
“I’m gathering up my stuff before the big move. And you’re—” She frowned, looking me over from head to toe, her gaze lingering on my gun. For once, not the personal one in my pants either. “Where’s the fire?”
“You’re mixing your metaphors.” And I couldn’t stick around to talk about it, even if she smelled like ocean air, salt water, and crayons.
The last made no sense, but with Vanessa, pretty much anything went.
Including her wearing an obscenely tight football jersey with the number 69 scrawled across her tits.
“Whatever. Where are you headed?”
“To work,” I said shortly, silencing the radio on my hip although it was against protocol. But I wasn’t fast enough to prevent her from hearing another alert about the armed robbery.
Her blue eyes widened. “What? How can that be? The Cove doesn’t—” Jockeying her yarn, she reached out to grab my forearm in a surprisingly strong grip. ”Brady isn’t here. You’ll be alone?”
“I’m a cop. It’s my job. I won’t be alone. Christian will—”
“Oh, that fuckwit. Like I’d trust him.” If anything, her grip increased. “If that guy is really armed…”
“Don’t know it’s a guy. Doesn’t matter. It’s my job.” I peeled her hand off my arm, though she fought me. I would’ve expected nothing less. “Do me a favor?”
For once, she didn’t argue. “Yeah.”
“Watch the dogs for me. I’ll be back when I can.”
She shifted the yarn around in her arms, briefly flashing her 69 once more as she swallowed hard. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. In there? Brady’s place?” Her voice sounded strangled.
“Yes.” I reached out and tipped up her chin with two fingers, surprised to note it trembled. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Right. Sure. Go on, be a superhero.” She opened the door to a chorus of barks then glanced back with a furrow between her pale brows. “Be careful, okay?”
Before I could respond, she shut the door in my face.
It shouldn’t have made me grin as I turned to head downstairs to do my job.
