Page 32 of Unseen Danger
She pulled her Sig from her hip holster.
“PT2, this is PT1. K-9 warning at north fence line.”
“PT1, Roger.” Jazz’s voice answered her instantly through the earpiece. “Want backup?”
“Negative until ID.”
“Roger that.”
Al barked again. Twice.
Nevaeh kept her eyes on the darkness beyond the farther lamp, her muscles wound tight. Ready.
A shadow shifted. Movement.
She let Al keep barking. He might scare off the threat.
The movement came closer, a shadow inching along a row of bushes that bordered the sidewalk about sixty feet away.
A silhouette appeared. Moving slowly.
A head, body. Looked like a man from the bulk and structure, dressed in dark clothing.
Something smaller moved along the ground beside him.
Was that…a puppy?
She relaxed her grip on her gun, still held low at her side.
Alvarez yipped. So much for the protection K-9’s ferocity. He always was a sucker for puppies.
The man continued walking toward them on the sidewalk. He passed under a streetlamp, the light hitting his gray hair and illuminating the puppy’s small, wriggling body. Looked like a black Labrador puppy, probably seven or eight weeks old. It was almost eleven p.m. now, but no doubt the old guy had to take the pup out late to avoid accidents.
Nevaeh holstered her weapon as Alvarez barked again. A playful bark this time.
“That’s enough, Al.” She put a hand on the dog’s head, his muscles taut under her hand.
He whined, his tail wagging as he shifted his weight between his feet, staring at the puppy.
Looked like the only challenge would be keeping Al from jumping the fence to get to the pup.
She’d better report to Jazz that they were clear. “PT2, negative on the threat.”
Except the one still in her mind. The one she might never escape.
Ten
“You do good work, Branson. Clients will always respect that.” Andrew Allen’s firm voice came through Branson’s Bluetooth earpiece.
Branson could think of a couple who didn’t respect his good work. Modella Hughes came to mind, the only client who’d fired him. Although she’d been under the influence of alcohol and maybe other things at the time. But he knew what his mentor was getting at. “So you mean I shouldn’t worry about it.”
“You know what I always say.”
A grin stretched Branson’s mouth as he went to the side of the leg press machine and lowered the peg to add more weight. “Don’t worry about it. Do something about it.”
“Good to know you listen sometimes.” Humor eased Andrew’s tone. “Focus on doing good work, protecting your client, and you’ll be fine.”
A clang sounded, probably Andrew setting down a set of weights at his home gym. Thanks to D-Chop’s desire to stay buff, Branson got to take advantage of the massive gym at the estate. And at five a.m., D-Chop was sound asleep, so Branson had the expensive equipment completely to himself.