Текст книги "Brawn"

Автор книги: Laurann Dohner

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“Stop it. The only person in this house in danger of being attacked is you, by me. You always hated my husband because he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as you. I used to be thankful for that every day I had with him. Now get out of my house and if you ever just walk inside it again without my express permission first, I’ll shoot your ass. You taught me how and I still have the gun you bought me. Get out now.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to help you take your things to the main house.” He stepped closer to the door.

“Don’t bother.”

He eased past her. “Fine but it’s going to take you a few trips to carry all the crap you think you need. I’ve seen you pack and I’m betting you’ll need at least three bags.”

“I refuse to live with you ever again. I’m staying right here with Brawn. He’s a nice man who isn’t interested in me and never will be. He’s fine where he is. You’re the one I want to leave.”

Her father frowned. “You can’t stay here with him.”

“Watch me.” She glared. “Get out of my house. I mean it. I told you to never bring up Bradley but you never listen.”

“I’ll let you calm down. You know where the spare key is. I have a date tonight and won’t be home until late. I’ll be at a meeting in the morning when you wake but we’ll talk after I get home. I’m sorry, Rebecca. It’s just been a stressful day and I let my temper get the better of me. I wanted the best for my baby and you know I had issues with Bradley. I think you made a martyr out of him. Everyone has flaws.”

Becca closed her bedroom door in his face and locked it. She heard her father talking to Brawn for a few minutes before the house grew silent. She was pissed and worse, hurt. She waited another five minutes and then eased her door open.

Chapter Two

Becca paused at Brawn’s closed door, heard the sound of running water and knew he showered. She had calmed after the argument with her father and now wanted a stiff drink. That always helped her get over hurt feelings after they had a verbal spat and there was the fact that she had a sexy, yet off-limits stranger living in her home.

The family room contained a fully stocked bar, something she’d appreciated when she’d taken possession of the house and had replaced every bottle of liquor, not sure of how old they’d been. She poured herself straight vodka and guzzled the shot. It burned down her throat all the way to her belly. A breath hissed out when she set the shot glass on the bar, straddled the chair and poured another.

Her father drove her crazy and living on the same estate was a really bad idea. It wasn’t as though she were stuck there though. She had the money to move but the idea of giving up her oasis on the property left her feeling a bit fearful. She’d lived in the outside world with Bradley and that hadn’t gone well. She poured and downed a few more shots when the sound of the doorbell pulled her from her depression.

She yanked open the door expecting her father but instead someone else stood on her doorstep. She gave him a genuine smile. “Well, if it isn’t Trey Roberts. Don’t you look good!”

He grinned. “I brought groceries and uniforms for the new guy.” He held two large bags and had a thick garment bag draped over his shoulder. “Point me to the kitchen. Is he here yet?”

She nodded and led Trey into the kitchen. She assessed the man who was her father’s favorite. If her dad had ever had a son, she knew he’d wish Trey were it and he’d shoved her at Trey for years hoping she’d marry the guy. She flirted with him but wasn’t interested. He was too similar to her father, except Trey was nice and had a sense of humor.

“He’s actually upstairs showering.”

Trey glanced up at the ceiling before studying Becca. “What is he like?”

“His name is Brawn. He’s huge, has gorgeous eyes and he’s nice. He looks like he’ll fit right in with you guys. I wouldn’t arm wrestle him though. He’d kick ass.”

Trey nodded and started to unload the bags. “Where’d your old man go?”

“He has a date.”

Trey laughed. “Uh-oh. I wonder how long this one will last.”

“Probably two weeks. That’s about the limit. He starts barking orders at them and they run for the hills. I’m waiting to see what kind of idiot stepmother he eventually finds. She’s going to have to be a first-place winner of the total-moron championship contest if she thinks his bossiness is cute.”

“Now I see why you won’t date me. I like giving orders.”

“I’m too smart.” She helped him unload the groceries until she took notice of what was going into her fridge and freezer. “What the hell?”

He grinned. “We were told by the NSO to make sure he’s stocked with a hell of a lot of red meat.”

“I think he’ll be happy then. You must have bought fifty pounds of steaks and roasts.”

“I’m just following the list we were given. I was supposed to find out if you have any cast-iron skillets. They like to sear their meat in one.”

She pointed. “Right there.”

He opened the lower cupboard and peered at the set. “That should do.” He set the largest one on top of the stove to make it impossible to miss.

“Anything else?”

“No. If he needs anything, he’ll tell us. Let me grab the sodas from my truck.”

Becca held the front door open and her mouth dropped open. Trey brought in three cases of soda. “Were they having a sale?”

“New Species have a fondness for caffeine.” Trey unloaded it all and leaned against the counter. “So, who are you dating right now?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me?” He smiled.

She smiled back. “Nope. But thanks for the offer.”

He winked. “Do you want to at least have awesome, mind-blowing sex?”

She laughed. “I’ll pass.”

His smile faded. “Have you gotten past it? It’s been over a year since his death.”

Her grin died too. “I went out a few weeks ago with a guy I met through work and I had fun. He kissed me but all I could think about was how it wasn’t the way Bradley did it. That kind of killed the moment and I sent him home. I refused a second date. He was a nice guy and I didn’t want to string him along.”

“I won’t kiss you.” He suddenly grinned again. “I could do you right here.” He pointed to the wall. “I bet that wouldn’t remind you of him. I can’t see him lifting and holding you in place while he screwed you blind.”

“Go home.” She shook her head at him, laughing. “That kind of talk is probably why you’re still single. Does that work with women?”

“Sometimes. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Right. You want to help me right out of my clothes.”

All humor faded from his intense brown eyes. “It might be the kind of help you need. You have heard that saying that to get over someone, you need to get under someone, haven’t you? It really works. I worry about you, honey.” He reached up and brushed back a lock of her auburn hair. “I’m here any time you want to talk, if you need someone to hold you or just a really great fuck.” He smiled. “My body is at your disposal.”

“Go home.” She gave him a nod. “But thanks.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not about that.”

“Are you sure? It might help.”

“I appreciate it but I’m doing well. I promise to call you though if that ever changes.”

“You can call me any time.” He leaned closer to brush a soft kiss on her forehead. “If you change your mind you know my number. I’m not opposed to a two a.m. booty call.”

Becca laughed. “I bet you aren’t.”

“I’m good at it.” His hand dropped away from her and he wiggled his eyebrows in a comical way. “At least that’s what I’ve been told. You could take me for a test drive and rate my performance.”

“Not a chance! Don’t you have somewhere else to be and someone else to annoy? Move it, soldier. You’ve been given your marching orders.”

He walked away. “I keep trying to move, damn it, but you aren’t letting me show you the motion of the ocean.” He chuckled, waved and closed the door behind him. His truck started a moment later and he drove away.

Becca put her hands on the counter and stared out the kitchen window toward the large tree, enjoying the sight of birds flittering around the thick branches. She appreciated Trey’s concern, he’d known her for a lot of years, but she would never take him up on his offers of having sex or getting too close to her. He had enough stress in his life without adding her burdens on his broad shoulders.

“What is a booty call?”

She grabbed her heart and spun to face her houseguest. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you come down the stairs. They creak a little.”

Brawn stood in the doorway of the kitchen. His hair was wet, pulled back in a ponytail, and he’d changed clothes. He wore faded, snug jeans with a black, heavy metal band T-shirt. His feet were bare.

“What is a booty call? I’ve never heard that before.”

She grinned. “It is a term for calling someone to just come have sex with you and they leave afterward. There’s no attachment or emotional involvement in the sex.”

He nodded. “I’ll remember. Is that a normal human custom?”

“For some but not me. He was just joking.”

“That man who was here is your lover?”

She shook her head. “He’s my friend. He will be working with you on the task force. He’ll be your team leader if you are replacing Jessie Dupree. You should like him. He’s got a good sense of humor so hopefully you appreciate that in a person. I know I do. Your food and uniforms are here. He also brought you lots of soda.”

“Thank you. Human friends offer booty calls to each other? I’m trying to learn about human interaction. I’ll be working with them and need to try to understand your customs.”

“No. Most friends don’t offer booty calls. Trey offers because he is trying to talk me into sleeping with a man again and he’s partly teasing, trying to cheer me up. He thinks if he gets me into bed that I’ll find it easier to do when I go out on a date with someone, that it will result in sex.”

“He wants to share sex with you so you will have sex with another male? Is the male a good friend of his? I have seen those kind of situations in the pornographic videos but didn’t believe they were real representations of human sexual habits. Is this a common practice amongst human males? I don’t want to make friends if it means they will offer to share their women.” He grimaced. “I don’t mean to offend you but that is disgusting. I don’t want to see another male mount someone. It wouldn’t make me desire her and the last thing I want to see or smell is another male while sharing sex with a female. It would kill my arousal and I don’t want a human woman.”

Becca laughed hard at his interpretation. It cracked her up and she hugged her stomach.

“I apologize if I’ve insulted your sexual preferences but I’m Species and it doesn’t take two of our males to satisfy a female’s sex drive. Your males don’t have our stamina during sex. I’m afraid one of your females may be overwhelmed by one of us, if she could even handle the roughness of sharing sex.”

Those bits of information killed her sense of humor and she sobered. “It’s complicated but don’t believe what you see in the skin flicks. Those are actors with really bad scripts for the most part, not true situations and that’s not his motive. He doesn’t want to talk me into having a threesome with him and one of his friends. I was married but I’m a widow now. I kind of stopped dating after that and Trey thinks I’ll stop being hung up on my husband if he gets me into bed. He thinks if I just have sex with someone—anyone—that I’ll be more likely to get on with my life. You can make friends and they won’t ask you to sleep with their girlfriends or wives.”

“What is a widow?”

“My husband had a defective heart. A widow is a woman whose husband died.”

Brawn leaned against the wall. “I am sorry. Our people were put down too if they were found to be defective physically by Mercile Industries.”

She felt punched in the gut. “They did that? Those assholes killed anyone with physical defects? Jesus. No. My husband wasn’t murdered. We don’t just end someone’s life if they aren’t healthy. He had a heart defect and died when a large vessel inside his heart ruptured. It happened very quickly. He just grabbed his chest, gasped and passed out. He probably didn’t know what happened before it was over. The doctor I spoke to assured me that he wouldn’t have suffered and death happened within minutes.”

“The doctors could not fix his defect before his death?”

“We didn’t know about it. It was a rare defect they only discovered afterward when they performed the autopsy.” She took a deep breath to prevent getting choked up. She usually did that when she remembered Bradley and avoided discussing the grim details. A change in subject was needed to avoid tears. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I’ll get out of the kitchen and let you fix your meal. Trey said you needed cast-iron skillets and he put one on the stove for you to use. There are more under that cabinet there.” She pointed. “Make yourself at home.”

He nodded. “Are you leaving now?”

She inwardly flinched, realizing he didn’t understand the situation. “Actually, about that…” She took a breath. “I’m not moving into the main house with my father. He’d drive me nuts and trust me when I tell you that you’re better off here than living with him. He’s kind of a jerk sometimes and tends to be super controlling. I am staying here. You’ll hardly see me and I keep a pretty busy schedule.” She pulled air into her lungs. “It’s a big house and we’ll make it work. It will almost be as if I’m not here.”

He gawked at her. “I’m to live with you?” A frown dipped his lips.

“I’m really sorry that this isn’t what you expected but no one asked me before your living arrangements were made. My father had no right to offer you my house but I’m willing to share it with you. There’s a spare house key hanging from a peg on the right side of the front door. Take it and use it.”

His chin lifted and his shoulders braced back enough to puff out that massive chest of his. “I understand. I’m here to learn about humans and to adjust to being around them. This will be a good experience to share a house with one. You’ve taught me a lot in such a short time and I look forward to learning more. Thank you.”

She had to give him a lot of credit for taking the news better than she expected. “Good. I’ll leave you to cook your meal now. I’m going to return to the family room and get shit-face drunk. You’ll discover that I do that after I have a blowout with my dad. He drives me to drink.”

She spun and walked away before he could question her further. All that talk about her husband left her feeling sad and vulnerable. Intense pain squeezed her heart as she walked into the family room, sat at the bar and poured another drink.

The shit part was that her father had been right about Bradley but she couldn’t ever admit that aloud because her dad would never allow her to forget it. He’d rub it in and use it as an example in every argument they had. That would be so often that it wasn’t funny. She downed another shot, closed her eyes and hissed from the burn of the booze sliding down into her belly.

Brawn watched Becca leave the kitchen and sighed. He knew what shit-faced drunk meant. She planned to drink to excess, get completely inebriated and he hoped his new house mate wasn’t one of those humans who did it often. He hated the smell of alcohol and he’d seen movies of drunk people enough to wish to avoid them.

This was not going the way he had thought it would. Not at all. He’d been promised a secluded home, privacy, yet instead he lived with a human woman. Worse, he found her attractive. The memory of her bent over the bed he’d sleep in later would stick with him for a while. She had a curved, lush body, very unlike Species women. She appeared supple, fragile and would probably scream if he ever unleashed his desire on her.

Her hand had been small and very soft when he’d held it after their introduction. The idea of having her touch him with them made his cock twitch. Of course the thought of pinning her under him only made it worse. He’d probably crush her under his weight or accidentally break her somehow.

He softly growled as he moved around the kitchen to familiarize himself with it. He pulled out a few steaks, heated the skillet and found a plate, then got the tongs to turn his steaks as he seared them.

He sat at the island eating while thoughts of Becca Oberto plagued him. She was a complication he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with. He could ask her father to allow him to live in the bigger house near the road. It would simplify things but that would be cowardly. He lifted his gaze to the fridge, studying the photos that were stuck on it—Becca with different humans. She smiled in all of them and appeared happy. It was a confusing contradiction if she had turned to drinking a lot of alcohol. He wasn’t too sure of his human facts but it implied she had serious issues. Her mate dying would do it.

He finished his dinner, cleaned up the mess and washed his dishes. He heard music when he turned off the water and dried his hands. It was too early to go to bed and his room didn’t have a television. He’d need to ask for one, he missed his cable channels already and regretted volunteering to take the mission for his people.

Someone needed to work with the human task force though. A Species female would have been perfect for the job but he hadn’t wanted to expose any of them to human males. Everything he’d learned so far about them made him believe they’d harass her. It was a man’s world outside the NSO gates, or so he’d been told. Females were to be protected at all costs. The idea of allowing one to go into danger made his entire body stiffen. He’d tough it out and would deal with whatever came his way. Better him than one of the females.

He worried about Becca as he put his foot on the bottom step to return to his room. She wasn’t a big female and a memory of a movie he’d watched made him turn back. She could drink enough to become violently ill and he wanted to check on her health.

He followed the rock music and paused in the archway to the family room. Becca sat at the bar with a bottle and a tiny glass in front of her. She seemed to sense him and turned her head. The wide grin she gave him and her overly bright, blue eyes assured him that she’d drunk too much. She waved him over, her movements clumsy.

“Hello, handsome. Wanna drink?”

Her voice slurred a little and it shocked him that she’d called him that. “My name is Brawn. I don’t know of any Species who chose to be called that.”

A giggle made her shoulders shake and she snorted softly. “I know your name. You’re good-looking but you know that, right?”

She found him attractive. That fact left him speechless.

She patted the seat next to her. “Wanna drink? It doesn’t burn going down anymore.”

He inched into the room. “I don’t drink alcohol but thank you for the offer. How many have you had?”

“I don’t know.” She nearly slipped off the chair as she adjusted on the seat. “Not enough. I’m still conscious.”

“Drinking alcohol inebriates you, slows your response time and makes logic difficult to practice.”

She laughed. “You are so cute.”

His eyebrows lifted. No one had ever called him that before. Ferocious, a bastard and other choice names but never something that implied that definition. Worry ate at him more over her mental state.

“Perhaps you should go to bed and sleep. I’ve heard a saying that things always look better in the morning.”

“It’s early.” She patted the barstool next to her. “Come over here. I won’t bite.”

“Aren’t you afraid I will?” He couldn’t resist opening his mouth and showing her his canines, curious why she didn’t seem to fear him. Human women always did.

“Nope.” She patted the barstool again. “Come closer.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re kind of blurry.” She giggled. “I don’t drink often but when I do, wow boy, do I do it right.”

He’d never heard that phrasing before and approached her cautiously. It was a bad idea, he should go to his room, but worry kept him there. She needed someone to look out for her. Her mate wasn’t around anymore to do it and her father wasn’t living inside her home. It was up to him to make certain she didn’t have any misadventures in her defenseless state.

He sat on the barstool, too close to her in his estimation—and hoped she didn’t throw up the way he’d seen women do in movies. “I don’t understand why you would purposely do this to your body.”

“You mean the calories?” She glanced down. “I could lose some weight. I sit on my butt too much at work but it’s not as though I have to impress anyone anymore.”

“Calories?”

“You know, because I’m a little overweight.”

He studied her body. “You’re very small. You can’t weigh much.”

“I’m a hundred-and-sixty pounds.” She laughed then clasped a hand over her mouth and giggled before lowering it. “I usually lie.” She leaned closer to him. “I say I weigh twenty pounds less than I really do.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Lie?” She reached out and pressed her palm to his chest. “It’s what women do. We lie about our weight, our age and our sexual history.”

Confusion gripped him again and he tried to ignore the warmth of her hand soaking through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Why would you do that?”

“You want to know about humans? They lie. We’re sneaky bastards or bitches sometimes. If our mouths are moving, well, expect some bullshit. It’s just human nature. In my case, I hate admitting that I’ve only slept with two men. It sounds pathetic and I lie about my age because I’m coming up on the big three-o. Thirty. That’s a bad thing to women. As for the weight, we wear stuff, trying to hide the flab.”

“Flab?”

“You know, those extra little unsightly bulges.”

He glanced down her body, paused on her breasts and frowned. His gaze lifted. “There is nothing unsightly about you.”

Her free hand reached for his and he allowed her to move it to her side. She pressed it against her waist. “Squeeze.”

He gently did as she bid, amazed at how soft she felt through her clothes and the give in her skin. She smiled at him.

“Feel that? Love handles. I’ve got them.”

He opened his hand and released her. “You feel nice.”

“It doesn’t look so hot.” She patted his chest. “You’re so nice. I hope the guys on my dad’s team don’t rub off on you. Men can be real lying jerks but you’re different.”

“I’m honest.”

Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips—her pink tongue darted out to wet the lower one and her hand slid a little lower to press over his heart. “Stay that way.”

“I don’t like deceit.”

“Me neither.” She inhaled deeply, leaned back, removed her hand and faced the bar. “But it’s necessary.”

“I don’t understand. You have secrets you need to protect?”

She wrapped her hand around the glass, lifted it and took a sip. A grimace twisted her features and she put it down. “The burn is gone but it tastes like shit.”

He inhaled, the vile smell of alcohol there, but nothing to indicate it would taste of excrement. “Don’t drink it.”

“It helps.” She stared at the bar. “Sometimes I want to forget stuff and when I’m hurting it helps numb me.”

Worry gripped him. “You need medical attention?” He sniffed again, leaned a little closer and tried to get an in-depth take on her scent. She smelled of strawberries, oatmeal and laundry detergent but he didn’t pick up any trace of illness.

She turned her head and smiled. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have the chemical smell of humans who take medications. It sweats out of the pores. You’re ill?”

“No. I just had horrible taste in men and my father drives me nuts. I think my grandfather left me the guesthouse because he knew I’d never talk to my dad otherwise. We don’t get along.”

“Is having a parent challenging?”

She released her drink and turned to face him. “You have no idea! He drives me nuts.” She put her hand on his thigh near his knee and he glanced down to see it curved over his jeans. “He’s such a dick sometimes, so controlling and judgmental. I always had to be perfect or he lectured me about it. He’s not, but I’m supposed to be.”

His gaze lifted. “Are humans always so into touching people when they talk?”

She looked down, laughed and squeezed his leg. “Sorry.” She lifted her hand and peered up at his face. “Your eyes are really amazing. Did I tell you that? I think they are so beautiful. Can you see colors and everything?”

“Yes. My vision is perfect.”

“My dad thinks you’re mixed with a lion or a panther. Do you have a tail?”

It shocked him that she’d ask. His lips parted but nothing came out.

“It’s okay if you have one. I’d still think you were hot.”

“My skin is warmer than yours naturally but I don’t have a tail.”

That set her off into giggles. He liked the sound and the way dimples appeared in her cheeks. She licked her lips again. “You are so funny. Do you dance?”

“Yes.”

“I bet you do.” She openly stared at his chest, taking him in, and sighed. “Off-limits. It figures. I’ve got really shitty luck. Did I mention that?”

“Would you like to dance?” The alcohol had affected her logic since she wasn’t making much sense. “You asked if I can and I enjoy it.”

“I don’t have any dollar bills.” That set her off into a fit of laughter and she nearly slid off her barstool.

He reached out and gently wrapped a hand around her waist to make certain she didn’t lose her balance. “Dance with me.” He stood and gently eased her to her feet. She swayed on unsteady, bare feet, her shoes on the floor under her barstool, which he hadn’t noticed until that second. “The slow motion might lure you to sleep. I won’t allow you to fall.”

“You want me to go to sleep?” She leaned in to him, her body lax against his and she felt small in his arms. “That figures too. Most guys would want to strip a woman and fuck her blind if she were blitzed.”

“You’re inebriated and not logical. I would never engage in shared sex with you.”

“Damn shame,” she muttered and turned her head, resting it against his chest. She gripped his biceps. “Show me what you’ve got, hot stuff.”

He ignored the fast beat of the rock song and adjusted his hold to make sure she wouldn’t fall if she passed out. He moved his body just enough to keep her swaying on her feet.

“You smell really good.” Her fingers brushed his skin. “And you’re really big.”

“Thank you. I’m not a danger to you.”

She snuggled closer and as he looked down, he noticed her eyes closed as they danced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her fingernails raked his outer arms and he bit back a growl as his cock stiffened even more at the light caresses. It was a really bad idea to share a house, especially with a woman who drank alcohol and admitted to being deceptive.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Brawn?”

“No.”

“Someone is missing out. You’re a sweetheart to dance with me.”

“That’s another term I’ve never heard when I’m discussed.” He smiled. “You are amusing when you drink, Becca.”

“Thanks.” She released his arms and stretched up to grip the top of his shoulders. “Did I insult you when I asked if you have a tail or could see colors? I didn’t mean to ask that. It just blurted out of my mouth. Were those taboo questions?”

“Not at all. You’re curious about me and I’m curious about humans.”

She lifted her head and her eyes opened. She stopped moving against him so he held still, holding her gaze. “Are you a lion or a panther mix?”

“I don’t know. My records weren’t recovered.”

“Can I touch your hair? It’s so long and beautiful that I wanted to ask earlier. It’s a shame you pull it back.”

The request surprised him. “It keeps it out of the way. Go ahead. It grows really fast. I need to cut it again soon.”

She leaned into him and he flipped it over his shoulder to trail down his chest. Her fingers brushed his long ponytail and she smiled. “Please don’t. It’s as silky as it looks and it would be a crime if you hacked it off.”

The urge to ask her if he could touch her side again, minus her shirt, to feel her soft skin struck him, but he resisted it. It would be inappropriate, he knew. He held his tongue.

“I should go to bed.” She let go of his hair and slid her hands down his chest next to it. “Yeah. I should.”

“I’ll escort you to your door to make sure you don’t trip. You’re a little unsteady on your feet.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She stepped back and he released her hips. She wobbled a little but turned of her own accord and walked toward the archway. He followed closely and worried when she climbed the stairs. She didn’t fall though and made it all the way to her room. She paused, peered at him over her shoulder and stared into his eyes.

“Good night, Brawn. Sweet dreams.”

He nodded, refused to admit that when he had dreams, they were unpleasant memories of his past captivity. He didn’t want to tell her about the nightmares that sometimes woke him in the middle of the night. He’d be in a cold sweat, sure that being freed had just been wishful thinking.

She closed the door but he waited, listening to her move around her room, in case she passed out. The whisper of her clothes being removed reached his keen hearing and he closed his eyes, trying to think about something else. He was more than curious about what she’d look like bare. The bed took her weight and he still remained until her breathing slowed to assure him she had fallen asleep.

He blew out a deep breath, opened his eyes and returned downstairs to turn off the music and make certain the lower floor was secure. He felt out of place in Becca’s home, away from his people, living in the out world with humans.

Chapter Three

Becca woke with a start, confused at first about where she was, before memory surfaced. She winced, remembered most of her drunken discussion with her houseguest and promised to apologize to Brawn first thing in the morning. She glanced at her nightstand clock and took note it was nearing three in the morning. The reason she had jerked awake sounded again.

She frowned, listening to the persistent barking from Boomer, her neighbor’s beloved pooch. It wasn’t normal for the little dog to be noisy, especially in the middle of the night. She shoved off the covers to get out of bed. She crossed the room, gripped the curtain and pulled it back a few inches to stare over the wall that separated her property from the one behind it.