Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Yes, I have,” Kurt agreed, and that was nice to hear.
Edmond took two tentative steps and then leaped into Hannah’s lap. He didn’t struggle when she picked him up and started carrying him toward the house. Her face was scrunched up like she’d bitten into a lemon.
“Lemme guess,” Sam said as he turned off the light. “He’s covered in gasoline or something, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, get him in the laundry room sink,” he directed her.
Kola put Dobby down and darted after his sister, Harper and Jake running to keep up.
“How did you know the cat was covered in gasoline?” Kurt asked Sam.
“It’s October now,” Sam explained. “Even in the same month, most pet stores and every shelter I know, the Humane Society—no one adopts out black cats from now until, like, a week into November.”
Kurt looked startled. “No. This is 2021. People don’t still kill cats.”
“Unfortunately, you’d be surprised,” Sam affirmed sadly. “And the Kellys live on the next block over, which means someone either threw something on him in his own yard, or more likely, took him out of the yard, doused him, and was going to take him somewhere else to set him on fire.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It is,” Sam agreed. “And even though Illinois ranks as the best state for animal protection laws, we still have to catch people to prosecute them, not to mention, animals don’t have any rights.”
Kurt nodded.
“Mr. Harcourt,” Jake called over to me from the back door. “Hannah asked me to ask you to call Mrs. Kelly.”
“On it,” I said, pulling out my phone as Dobby suddenly growled.
“Yes?” Sam asked the young man standing at the gate that led from the driveway into our backyard. “May I help you?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you saw my cat? He might’ve run into your yard.”
Sam nodded. “I haven’t seen anything, but let me help you look.”
“Oh no,” the guy said, taking several steps back as Sam started moving. “That’s okay, I don’t want to dis––”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Sam assured him.
But the guy wasn’t stupid—at least where danger was concerned—and turned and ran. Sam was already in motion, at the gate in seconds as Duncan bolted for the back door, going through the house, out the front door to offer Sam aid.
“Jesus,” Kurt breathed out, standing there, looking like he was in a daze.
“If George were here,” I said with a sigh, “he’d be right behind them.”
Aaron made a face.
“No?”
“Well, let’s be brutally honest and say that if George were here, he would have had that guy and whoever else much faster. They’re not quite as young as they think they are.”
I gestured after my husband. “You’re saying Sam and Duncan won’t catch that guy and whoever was with him?”
“No, I’m only saying if George was here, it would be done already.”
“Who is this George?” Kurt asked irritably. “All I hear from the kids is this hero worship, and all I see is a man promoting violence as the first and best choice.”
“In what way?” I queried.
“He killed two people in front of the kids, and I have to wonder if death was the only option. Was it not possible to wound those men?”
“But George was hurt,” I explained. “And had the men gotten back up and threatened the kids again, George might not have been able to help them.”
“So it was easier to just kill them?”
“I think safer is the word you’re looking for,” Aaron declared. “George is a bodyguard. That’s his duty. He neutralized the threat to the kids. The how of it is under his purview.”
Kurt shook his head. “I appreciate that he kept the kids safe, but he sounds like a brute to me, and not terribly bright.”
I snorted.
“He works black ops for the army and private security for me,” Aaron replied haughtily, “I can assure you that he is, actually, terribly bright.”
“Plus,” I pointed out, “you’re not going to stay friends with Hannah if you go around insulting one of her favorite people.”
“That’s true, isn’t it,” Aaron quipped, turning to look at me. “She has the oddest taste in people.”
I smiled at him. “Not really. She has a type.”
“You think so?”
I nodded.
“Mr. Harcourt––” Jake was at the back door again. “Hannah wants to know if you called Mrs. Kelly or, and I quote, ‘is she still at home having a heart attack because her baby’s missing and no one had the decency to call her?’”
“Is that it?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Sorry. End quote,” he said, cackling as he went back into the house.
“You know,” Kurt began, “I would really love to meet this George.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll have the opportunity before he’s deployed again,” I said with a shiver. “I’m so glad that Sam doesn’t––”
We all heard the sirens then.
Walking through my house, we all went out the front door, and there, facedown on the street, arms stretched out over their heads, were three young men. Sam was on the sidewalk, bent over, trying to drag air into his lungs, and a few feet away from him stood Duncan, hands on his hips, head back, breathing hard.