Waldo was curled up in an armchair in the living room, and he was plainly disgruntled when Brynne scooped him up, carried him into her bedroom, installed him on the window seat and dashed for the door, shutting it swiftly behind her.
Waldo meowed loudly in protest.
Ignoring her furry friend, Brynne went back to the stairway, and descended as far as the landing, where there were two sets of steps, one leading to the restaurant’s kitchen and one to the outside door.
Brynne opened the latter, braced herself against the rush of cold air and the sight of Eli waiting on the small porch with his dog.
“Come in.” It seemed deliciously clandestine, admitting Eli to her home under cover of darkness.
He hesitated, looking down at Festus, who panted cheerfully at his side, barely able to restrain his canine glee at encountering Brynne.
She bent to ruffle the dog’s ears in greeting.
They entered, and Eli stopped to turn the dead bolt before following Brynne up the well-worn stairs.
Festus slipped around her and scuttled to the top, where he turned to watch the humans approach.
“I want to know what’s going on,” Brynne announced, the moment they were all in her living room. “I know it has something to do with your nephew. He’s a nice kid and I’m worried.”
Eli sighed, looking around. “Nice place,” he said.
“Thanks,” Brynne replied. “But don’t dodge the issue. What’s happening?”
“Sit down,” Eli said, gesturing toward the nearest chair. “Please.”
Once Brynne was seated, he took a seat on the edge of the couch, laced his fingers together and studied the floor.
Festus trotted down the hallway toward Brynne’s closed door, and Waldo raged from within.
Some welcome.
“All right, I’m sitting. Tell me, Eli.”
He told her.
He explained the trouble Eric and a few other kids had gotten themselves into the previous summer—she remembered the incidents, since the Creek was a small community and Eric’s mother, Sara, was a friend—then he mentioned the text.
Finally, he described his visit to the Lansing place, earlier that night.
“You think Freddie or his father would actually hurt Eric—or Festus?” Brynne asked, horrified.
“Yes,” Eli said bluntly.
“Can’t you arrest them or something?” She was a little frantic, grasping at straws.
“I can’t charge either of them unless they actually commit a crime, Brynne. This is America.”
“You’ve warned Sara?”
“I’ll speak to her when I leave here,” he said. “She probably won’t appreciate getting a visit at such a late hour, but this isn’t something I can discuss in a text or a voice mail.”
So, he didn’t expect to stay the night.
Brynne was both relieved and disappointed.
She wanted Eli, wanted him powerfully—and soon. But she knew she wasn’t ready, knew she had to proceed with caution.
Damn it.
“I’m sure Sara will want to know exactly what’s going on, no matter how late it is,” she said.
Festus returned from his diplomatic mission, a failure. With a doggy sigh, he plunked himself down near Eli’s feet and rested his muzzle on his forepaws.
“I hate to scare Sara,” Eli said, “but the fact is, Freddie Lansing is dangerous and so is his father.”
“Surely not Gretchen,” Brynne said. “I see her at the supermarket all the time. She’s such a meek little thing.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Eli pointed out wearily. “I’m pretty sure she sicced the family dogs on me tonight. They’re pit bulls, neglected if not outright mistreated, and they would have torn me apart if I hadn’t been able to get back into the SUV a second before they got to me.”
Brynne shuddered. “Those poor dogs,” she murmured.
Eli gave a chortle, and his mood seemed to improve slightly. “Gee, thanks,” he teased.
“You know what I mean,” Brynne retorted earnestly, though she was smiling now. Glad to see that Eli wasn’t quite as glum as he had been a moment before. “Pit bulls get a bad rap. If they’re raised properly, with love and good training, they are no more vicious than any other breed.”
“True enough,” Eli allowed. “Unfortunately, the Lansings didn’t get the memo.”
“Isn’t it a crime, turning dogs like that loose on someone?” Brynne asked. “Can’t you charge them—the Lansings, not the dogs—with attempted assault or something? You might have been killed!”
Eli bent to stroke Festus’s long, slender back. “I wouldn’t have been killed. Hurt, maybe, but not killed. I would have shot the dogs.”
Brynne felt a chill. Here it was, the reason she didn’t date cops. The dangers were innumerable, and sometimes it was impossible for an officer to escape unharmed.
Sometimes, they were horribly wounded.
Or killed.
“Brynne,” Eli said.
She realized he’d read her expression, seen the fear churning up inside her.
She began to cry.
She wasn’t the weepy type, but after such a long day, this was too much.
Eli stood, took her hand and drew her gently to her feet. Then he took her into his arms, held her tightly, rested his chin on top of her head.
He didn’t chide her for being silly, as Clay had done, more than once, nor did he ask her not to cry.
He simply held her, rocking her very slightly from side to side.
And she did the most dangerous thing of all: she let herself lean into Eli Garrett, into his courage and his masculinity and his strength.
She was in big trouble.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“DO YOU EVER SLEEP?” Sara demanded, as she opened her back door to Eli and his sidekick, Festus. She was wearing a red zip-up bathrobe and fluffy slippers, and her dark hair hung in loose spirals around her shoulders.
She’d scrubbed off her party makeup and probably brushed her teeth.
Since it was after one in the morning, Eli supposed he was lucky she hadn’t already turned in.
“I’ve been known to sleep, on occasion,” he replied.
Sara stepped back to let her brother into her spacious kitchen. She smiled warmly and patted Festus on the head as he passed.