“Not happening on my watch,” he replied, tone firm, and Sutton smirked.
Johns brushed past her, but she followed him, directing him toward Boots’ things. With their backs turned, I grabbed Sutton’s duffel and backpack and carried them outside to her car, which I found irritatingly unlocked.
“You don’t lock your car?” I asked through gritted teeth. Dusk Valley was a small town with a generally low crime rate, butstill.
“Fuck!” she shouted, and I stepped back, surprised by the outburst. “I can’t drive this.”
“Why not?”
Instead of giving a verbal response, she pointed at the tires, which I noticed for the first time were flat thanks to long slashes.
“Fuck,” I echoed.
“Yeah.” Her hands went to her hair at her temples, and she gripped handfuls, pulled, andscreamed.
It was a shocking display of emotion from the woman who had so far held it together through the horrific experience of walking through her destroyed home.
Johns and Wallace raced outside, but I held up a hand, stalling them on her front stoop.
The screaming went on for another minute or so, and when she stopped, Sutton was breathing hard.
“You good?” I asked, brow raised.
“Not even close,” she gasped, but the words were accompanied by a little laugh that had me smiling.
I collected her things from the backseat of her SUV and moved them to my truck. To Johns, who walked over to load Boots’ litter box and food into the truck, I said, “Call a tow for this. Tell them to bill me.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sutton piped up, but I stared her down.
Maintaining eye contact, I repeated to Johns, “Tell them to bill me.”
“You got it, boss.” Before walking away, he paused and squinted at me. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. “Get back to work.”
With a mock salute, he crossed the lawn and disappeared into the house with Wallace.
“Ready?” I asked Sutton.
Solemnly, she nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of my truck. Boots hopped into her lap, and she snuggled him, burying her face in his fur.
The entire drive home, Johns’ words swirled around in my brain, sticking right at the front like a popcorn kernel in my teeth.
What if he was right? What if this wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill nighttime intruder like we’d originally thought?
What if this fucker hadtargetedSutton specifically?
What if trashing her house was merely a warning shot, and the worst was yet to come?
If someonewascoming after her, I would do everything in my power to take them out.
After pulling my truck into the garage, I got out and started grabbing her things from the backseat. Sutton shuffled her feet as she headed toward the door.
“You can park here once your car is fixed,” I said. She pulled up short and half-turned toward me, and I indicated the empty stall next to my truck. Currently, a side-by-side sat there. “I’ll move that to the shed.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I feel like I’m already imposing enough.”
“You’re not,” I promised quickly. “My house is your house for however long you need it.”
