Page 52 of Beware of Dog

“Then…how do you know that about them?”

No sense lying, she supposed. “Because all eight of my brothers, and my brother-in-law are Lean Dogs.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t freak out about it,” she ordered. The cream in the fridge was out of date, so she dumped an extra spoon of sugar in her coffee and carried it over to the couch.

“I’m not! Totally not.”

“And the Lean Dogs don’t control the NYPD,” she said. “Sig’s lying, as usual.”

“Yeah.” His voice was faint, shocked. He was freaking out. “But you also said youknewsome cops.”

“I do.” She was going to leave it at that. “Bryce, why did you call me?”

“I’m scared.” He sounded it, and he raised himself fractionally in her estimation for being honest. “You were right when you said that this was going to be tough, and that Sig was going to come after me. I think he’s going to. And I definitely think he’s going to come afteryou.”

“I can handle myself,” she said. You worry about you. This is too important to back down.”

“I know that.” He took a deep breath, and then said, in a rush, like he was worried what her answer might be, “Will you come with me? To talk to the cops?”

“I…” She didn’twantto. The idea of him leaning on her for support left her uneasy. But if that support carried him all the way to the witness stand and helped land Sig behind bars, then she’d offer it. “What time?”

He let out a deep, relieved-sounding breath. “Ten. Can you make it?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at the station.” She hung up while he was thanking her, and leaned forward to set her phone on the table and pick up her coffee in its stead.

“Who was that?”

Shep’s voice was sleep-rough, several notches deeper than normal, and came out of nowhere.

Cass yelped, slopped hot coffee onto her hand, then hissed and sucked the web of her thumb into her mouth to soothe the burn.

Shep stepped around the arm of the sofa, hair fluffy and rumpled from the pillow, stubble dark and thick along his jaw. He still looked half-asleep, and he was scratching his stomach in that same distracting way that he had last night, his shirt even further askew, so she had a lovely view of toned abdominals and sharp adonis lines.

She pulled her hand from her mouth and scowled at him. “You bloody scared me.”

He shrugged in lieu of apology, and dropped into the recliner. “Who was on the phone,” he repeated, sharper this time, and though his face was still puffy and pillow-creased, his eyes, now that they were on the same level, flashed golden and sharp in the early light. He was more awake than she’d first thought; worse, it was clear he’d been eavesdropping.

She took a slow sip of coffee and settled back against the cushions, mug cradled between her hands. She wasn’t going to jump the moment he told her to. “Am I in prison? And not allowed phone privileges?”

He wasn’t amused.

“If you must know, that was the witness who saw—well, heard, I suppose—Sig assault Jamie. He’s going to the police station this morning to give an official statement, and he thinks Sig is onto him. He asked if I’d come along for moral support.”

Shep’s head tipped back against the chair, so he studied her down the length of his nose. “He?”

“Yes. His name is Bryce, a now-former friend of Sig’s. He said that Sig called him last night immediately once he’d agreedto speak with the police. He thinks Sig knows he’s ratting him out.”

Shep frowned. “What kinda stupid name isBryce?”

“I don’t feel like anyone flying the black dog can callanyname stupid.”

He scoffed, and the sound was angrier than she expected. “What’s he really want? Is this dude into you?”

“What?” The idea was so absurd she laughed. “No. Obviously.”

Shep didn’t laugh. His gaze narrowed, glittering, tawny where the orange dawn light scored his face. “What’sobviousabout that?”

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