Page 44 of Under Pressure

I’ve been away too much lately, he thought, as he watched his good girl sleep. He wasn’t taking care of her, let alone himself. He was lucky to have a good neighbor. Mrs. Romano, who was there for them both, like the mother he’d lost.

Delta closed his eyes, ordering sleep, unable to stop occasionally squinting to check out the quiet street, as if expecting someone to show up. What was he—an idiot? Kendra wasn’t coming, he reminded himself. She’d seen enough. She’d had enough.

And, damn, he’d had enough too.

He’d let her slip through his fingers once again. Or, more accurately, pushed her away violently…with intent. What the hell was he supposed to do? They didn’t belong together. It was something they both needed to end, though neither of them seemed to be able to. An unrelenting anger filled his body, directed more at himself than anything. Through his own selfishness, all he was doing was causing her to suffer. She made it all too damn clear, and she wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t right—at least, not right for her.

Piercing his thoughts, his cell pinged with a new message, and he lunged to grab it off the coffee table, like a junkie. Is it her? He was sorely disappointed to see that it was not. It was Warren.

Alive?

Barely. What’s up?

Checking in on my asset—making sure you aren’t dead.

Nice guy.

Who else is going to do it? That lady cop you’ve been seeing?

Are you fishing?

Can you blame me?

Delta clenched his jaw and flipped off his cell, not wanting to hear it anymore. Warren was the well-meaning big brother that Delta couldn’t handle right now. So he sat in silence, feeling too much pain for his own tolerance. He needed a distraction.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in his driveway on the other side of his truck. When he bolted upright, even Timber awoke with a start. The old service dog was no stranger to threat and stalked alongside Delta as they looked through the edge of his living room window. Nothing was out there.

Nothing that he could see.

Snapping into work mode, Delta stalked through his house—through the living room, into the kitchen at the back where he’d kept the light on. He flexed, feeling that icy heat in his veins, as he approached the side door off the kitchen, the one that led to the driveway.

He heard rustling outside the door. He was right. Someone was there. Deadly focused, he inhaled slowly, calming his racing heart. Instructing Timber to stay back, he flung the door open, establishing six-foot-three inches of threatening force in the doorframe.

An elderly Mrs. Romano stood there, shaking in an oversized wool coat with a frilly pajama dress flowing out from underneath. Her eyes widened in fright as she gazed up to Delta, who immediately calmed, jumping out onto his stoop to greet her.

“Mrs. Romano, what are you doing up so late?” he said apologetically. He couldn’t contain his astonishment and reached out to stabilize her shaking frame.

As he held her arm, offering support, she regarded him with worried eyes.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, son. I saw your light on. I just—” she began, but didn’t finish, gazing back at her house.

“Go on,” Delta urged, dropping his voice to her level.

Tightening her coat, she continued, “I woke up and I heard a noise—like someone was in my house. All I could think of…was to come here.”

Timber finally broke free from behind Delta and rushed forward to lick at Mrs. Romano’s hands. The two of them were like old friends. As Mrs. Romano leaned over to pet the dog’s long, silky coat, a smile broke across her face. Timber was the friend she needed.

“I’ll go check your house,” Delta said quickly, assessing her property. “I’ll make sure no one was there.”

Her voice cracked, sad and rattled. “I don’t think there was anyone in my house.”

“I don’t mind.”

Sunken, Mrs. Romano nodded, allowing Delta to quickly check. He didn’t doubt that she was right. No one had been in her house. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten scared in the middle of the night since her husband had died. It’s hard for her being alone.

And vulnerable.

After he had Mrs. Romano safely back at her house, he insisted she keep Timber for the night. His dog practically lived there half the time anyway and would be more than happy to get a homemade almond biscotti before bed. When the US Navy had retired Timber, no one could have ever expected the laser-focused service animal would be eating cookies on a frilly bedsheet with an elderly Italian lady.

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