“I wish we could do more for Matthew and Arthur, too.” Wren sighed.
“Just wait,” Elias said. “If Kit’s article doesn’t change things, Gina and Lach will.”
While the guys were busy moving Evan’s belongings, Wren was meeting more of Elias’ friends—specifically Gina Smith, Lachlan Campbell, and the man who ran a local securitycompany called Watchdog, Kyle McGuire. Wren was familiar with the Watchdog Security branch in Los Angeles. Many of the celebrities she photographed used them, including Barbie and Bette Collins, the number one star in Hollywood. Gina, Lachlan, and Kyle had worked together at the LA location before Kyle set up his branch in Colorado.
But that was about all she knew about Gina and Lach—besides the fact they and Kyle were all big-time dog people. Each brought along their own dog. Lachlan’s dog was an older boy named Sam who nevertheless looked healthy and easily kept pace with the others. Kyle had a black-and-yellow Lab named Camo who could probably give Penny a run for her money in the brains department. Same with Gina’s dog, Fleur. If ever a dog and her owner resembled each other, it was those two. Both had the most amazing golden-amber eyes, bright with intelligence.
“They were quite interested in Evan’s situation, but I’m not sure how they can help. For some reason, Lachlan kept reminding Gina they were retired. He was insistent about it.”
Elias almost spit his coffee out. “Yeah, I bet he was.”
Wren narrowed her eyes. “What?”
Elias shook his head and zipped his finger and thumb across his mouth.
“You can’t tell me.”
“Nope. Not beyond their jobs insecurity.”
“Ah, okay, gotcha.”
Damn. Now I’m really intrigued, she thought.Government maybe, or wait—black-ops. No—assassins! Oh, who am I kidding, this isn’t a Kris Michaels novel.
“You’re overthinking it, babe.” Elias stood and picked up their empty plates.
“Stop reading my mind. And give me those. You need to get to work.” She made a grab for the plates but he lifted them up out of reach.
“Nope. You cooked, I wash.” He smirked. “Your rules.”
“Stupid rules.” She pouted at him, then went to divide the scrambled eggs between Penny and Chuck’s food bowls. “I’ll just ask them straight-up what they did for a living when I call to see if they liked the house. Chase showed them the one near Bear and Ellie’s yesterday.”
“Good luck with that.” Elias put the second plate in the dishwasher and dried his hands on a kitchen towel. “Hope they liked the house though, for their sake. Ellie’s dying for them to move close, and Bear makes sure that what Ellie wants, Ellie gets.”
“Aw, poor maligned Bear. He’s really a big marshmallow.”
Elias only smiled. “Not always.”
Back at her townhouse,Wren had just finished packing up essential bathroom items—all the things Elias referred to as chick stuff—when her doorbell rang.
Probably another package. At least it arrived while I’m here.
Wren went to the door and looked out the keyhole.
Kit Larson stood on her porch.
“Kit,” Wren said when she opened the door. “Come on in. I was just about to call you.”
“Hey, Wren.” The best way Wren could describe Kit’s voice was unenthused. Actually, that was being generous. Kit looked like she’d lost her puppy.
This’ll cheer her up.
“Hey, if you haven’t finished the story, I have a new, incredibly happy ending concerning Evan Roy.” She closed the door behind Kit, who sat down on the couch.
“I don’t need it.” Now her voice sounded flat with a heaping side of angry that made Wren’s stomach clench.
“What’s wrong?” She sat beside Kit. “Don’t tell me you want to end on a sad note, for sympathy?”
“No. There will be no ending, sad or otherwise. Or a middle. Or a beginning for that matter.”
