Ethan nodded and crossed his arms, watching us.
“I picked him up two weeks ago, so he’s still settling in. He used to be part of the K-9 unit with Denver police, but he’s getting old. Arthritis is slowing him down. So, he’s retired now and living out the rest of his days with me.”
Ares wagged his tail and rested his chin on my knee. Ethan was a dog-handler in the military. When he got out, he devoted his free time to rescuing working dogs, honoring their years of service. There was always a dog or two at his heels everywhere he went, and I knew he had at least a dozen more at his home in the mountains.
“Come in, have a seat,” Ethan said. “There’s fresh coffee. I ran a background check on that guy you told me about, Kyle Ritter.”
“Any hits?” I asked.
He arched an eyebrow and gestured to the warehouse.
“Let’s just say it’s not good news.”
Swearing under my breath, I followed him inside.
The warehouse’s interior was well-lit, open, and spacious. Off to my left was a homey sitting area for guests, with a couch, a few chairs, and a throw rug. There was a side table with snacks and drinks, a cart with games and toys for kids, and a small television set.
On the opposite side of the warehouse, a partition had been raised. Ethan led me past it and into an office setting, with four desks, a wall of computer monitors, and a locked cage full of gear and weapons.
Once we were settled at Ethan’s desk with coffee, he pulled up a file folder and held it out to me.
“Kyle Ritter has a history of stalking and harassing women for over a decade, starting at eighteen years old. I try not to make assumptions, but I’ve seen enough men like this to take an educated guess that these are only the documented reports. There’s likely more that we don’t know about.”
I flipped through the file, feeling queasy.
“Is he violent?” I asked.
Ethan scrubbed a hand over his mouth, weighing his answer.
“I found no evidence to suggest he is. But that doesn’t mean anything. Victims can be silenced. Reports can be lost, destroyed, or never filed in the first place.”
I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to jump on my bike and race back to Shea immediately.
“What’s your professional opinion?” I asked.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, reaching out to Ares who sat beside him like a sentinel. He threaded his fingers through Ares’ fur, adjusting his collar.
“My professional opinion is the same as your gut instinct. Ritter means trouble. But you’re not asking this just for shits and giggles. Did he lock onto someone you care about?”
I closed the file and handed it back to him.
“Yeah, she’s…”
A friendwould have been my answer before.
But now…I found myself on the verge of saying something else.
“She’s my girl,” I said softly.
Fuck. Shea is my girl. The love of my life.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ethan muttered with a low whistle. “I had a running bet with the boys that you would be the last bachelor standing among us. Never could have guessed that you would be the one to fall first.”
“I’m not sure she feels the same way about me though,” I replied.
Ethan winced in sympathy.
“That’s rough. So, you’re really thinking about the whole package deal with this woman? Getting married, having a couple kids? Changing diapers and soccer practice every Saturday morning? PTA meetings? All that jazz?”
