“I can’t charge either of them unless they actually commit a crime, Brynne. This is America.”

“You’ve warned Sara?”

“I’ll speak to her when I leave here,” he said. “She probably won’t appreciate getting a visit at such a late hour, but this isn’t something I can discuss in a text or a voice mail.”

So, he didn’t expect to stay the night.

Brynne was both relieved and disappointed.

She wanted Eli, wanted him powerfully—and soon. But she knew she wasn’t ready, knew she had to proceed with caution.

Damn it.

“I’m sure Sara will want to know exactly what’s going on, no matter how late it is,” she said.

Festus returned from his diplomatic mission, a failure. With a doggy sigh, he plunked himself down near Eli’s feet and rested his muzzle on his forepaws.

“I hate to scare Sara,” Eli said, “but the fact is, Freddie Lansing is dangerous and so is his father.”

“Surely not Gretchen,” Brynne said. “I see her at the supermarket all the time. She’s such a meek little thing.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Eli pointed out wearily. “I’m pretty sure she sicced the family dogs on me tonight. They’re pit bulls, neglected if not outright mistreated, and they would have torn me apart if I hadn’t been able to get back into the SUV a second before they got to me.”

Brynne shuddered. “Those poor dogs,” she murmured.

Eli gave a chortle, and his mood seemed to improve slightly. “Gee, thanks,” he teased.

“You know what I mean,” Brynne retorted earnestly, though she was smiling now. Glad to see that Eli wasn’t quite as glum as he had been a moment before. “Pit bulls get a bad rap. If they’re raised properly, with love and good training, they are no more vicious than any other breed.”

“True enough,” Eli allowed. “Unfortunately, the Lansings didn’t get the memo.”

“Isn’t it a crime, turning dogs like that loose on someone?” Brynne asked. “Can’t you charge them—the Lansings, not the dogs—with attempted assault or something? You might have been killed!”

Eli bent to stroke Festus’s long, slender back. “I wouldn’t have been killed. Hurt, maybe, but not killed. I would have shot the dogs.”

Brynne felt a chill. Here it was, the reason she didn’t date cops. The dangers were innumerable, and sometimes it was impossible for an officer to escape unharmed.

Sometimes, they were horribly wounded.

Or killed.

“Brynne,” Eli said.

She realized he’d read her expression, seen the fear churning up inside her.

She began to cry.

She wasn’t the weepy type, but after such a long day, this was too much.

Eli stood, took her hand and drew her gently to her feet. Then he took her into his arms, held her tightly, rested his chin on top of her head.