Taryn scooped him up. “His little doggie heart is racing. It’s okay, pup. You’re fine.” Sweet’ums gave her a lick. Yuck. “Some watchdog you have,” Rick grumbled. “And where’s your bodyguard? I though he took a blood oath to protect you from the evil Willard and his murdering minions? He’s doing a bang-up job tonight.” As if on cue, Alvin shuffled up the sidewalk, turned onto her property, and clomped up the stairs to the porch. He glanced between them and stared down at Rick still holding his Glock. “What’s happening?” “Someone broke into the house,” Rick said, scowling. “Shit.” Alvin turned to scan the darkness. “Did he try to kill you?” “He didn’t have the chance,” Rick said. As much as he disagreed with Alvin staying with Taryn, it angered him to know that if he hadn’t decided to spend the night, the evening could have turned out much worse for Taryn. Although she was fully able to take care of herself, a killer with a gun lowered the odds of a successful outcome to a confrontation.
