She swore by the moon and her tail, if anyone hurt her dog, she’d tear them limb from limb. Mongo was a good baby. Friendly. Soft. She squealed to a stop and hit the fence, hand on her holster. “Mongo! Mongo, you okay?” She heard a bark but it didn’t come from her house. It came from the big truck parked out by the curb. She spun around, that familiar face in the window. “Oh, my boy. My baby boy.” He panted at her, barked happily, tail wagging as he pushed into her hands. So, not hurt. “Thank God.” “He’s fine. They told me to wait outside.” Brett was there, big and solid and looking mad as hell. “Good.” She touched Mongo’s ear, the softness trailing through her fingers. “Silly boy. You scared me.” Now, though. Now she could go kill something. She turned back, headed toward her place. “Wends? Shit, what the fuck?” Shane was running up the sidewalk, the sound of those sensible shoes a distant comfort. “You cleared the house?” She shook her head, glad as hell that her partner was here, had been having a quick lunch a mile off.
