Waylon:
Gotcha.
Ben smiled grimly. Dexter Morrison was about to learn what happened when you hurt someone under Mountain Division’s protection.
And it wouldn’t be pretty.
TWO
Sunday afternoon,Charlie King sat at her desk in the quiet Watchdog office, staring at the expense report from her last client protection detail. Watchdog charged their wealthy clients bank, which they could afford. That allowed for what Kyle referred to as ‘the widows and orphans fund’ which let them provide free services to people who couldn’t afford protection otherwise. It wasn’t called that because it was only offered to widows and orphans—but because widows and orphans are what Watchdog and Mountain Division would create if necessary.
Sundays weren’t usually Charlie’s shift, but the alternative—sitting alone in her apartment—held even less appeal.
The Long, Dark Teatime of the Soul, she thought, channeling the book by Douglas Adams. At least here she had paperwork to distract her from the silence. It was funny—she usually didn’t have a problem being alone. It was her default mode. But lately, after a 24/7 protection detail, the idea of her empty apartment made her stomach feel hollow. Not that the office was a hotbed of activity on a Sunday. Kyle was in though, along with Alex the kennel master, out in the training yard. Everyone else was either out on their own assignments or home with their families.
Charlie logged another receipt. Hotel in Vail. Meals. Mileage. The work was mind-numbing, which was exactly what she needed. Anything to keep her brain from circling back to the same thought pattern.
You’ll never have your own family. You’re always going to be alone. Who’d want someone like you?
Stop it, she told herself firmly.Just finish the damn receipts.
Her desk phone mocked her. The message light had been blinking when she got it that morning—one new voicemail, received Friday evening when she'd already left for the day. The extension was internal—forwarded from the main Watchdog line. She'd listened to it, and now it kept sticking in her mind.
She lifted the phone receiver and made herself listen to it again.
Might as well.
"Hi. Um." A young man’s voice, familiar but changed, spoke carefully like he was choosing every word.
"This is…my name is Joseph King. I'm trying to reach Charlene King. I think she might work there? I'm her brother." He paused. "Charlie, if you get this message, hi. I know it's been a long time. I wanted to talk about something. That's all.” Another pause, longer this time. "I hope you're doing okay."
The message ended with his phone number.
Charlie sat very still.
Joey.Twenty-seven years old now. Practically a stranger, except she could still picture him at eight—scabbed knees, gap-toothed smile, dragging her sleeve so she'd read to him before bed because their father was at the bar and their mum was somewhere else and Charlie was the one who was always there. She'd been his whole world, once. Before he’d gotten older and fell in line with Patrick and James, their older brothers.
He wants to talk about something? Right. More like he wants something from me.
That was how it worked. Growing up, someone in her family always wanted her to do something—wash the clothes, clean the house, cook the food. And nothing was ever good enough for her older brothers or their father. Eventually, nothing was good enough for Joey, either.
Old news.She wasn't falling for it.
Still, she re-saved the message instead of deleting it, then went back to her receipts.
Her phone buzzed. Kyle’s name flashed on the screen.
“Yeah, Boss?”
“You busy?” Kyle’s voice was relaxed, friendly. “Need you outside at the kennels.”
She straightened, grateful for the interruption. She put her hands on the small of her back and arched it. Her spine popped like gunshots. Too much time spent in boats hitting waves at sixty-five MPH like they were on a washboard road.
“On my way, Boss.”
The late afternoon sun hit her face as she stepped into the training yard by the kennels. Kyle stood with Alex Hoff, Watchdog’s lead dog trainer, near the obstacle course. Three dogs sat at attention—Camo, Kyle’s gold-and-black mottled Lab; Mac, Alex’s Malinois; and a younger Malinois Charlie had worked with a few times during training sessions.
Flo.
