The headlights of my truck pool over the driveway, illuminating my old garage. I tap the button to open the door and idle while it cranks up. It needs replacing. If I remember correctly, my parents had a new one put in about fifteen years ago. I’ve put so much time into working on Aislin’s—fuck, I mean, my other—house that I’ve been slacking on my own upgrades. My parents took good care of their home, especially after the economy picked up and us kids became more independent. It was outdated, but what house around here wasn’t? For a single guy who’s never home, the house has been working just fine, but I suppose it’s time to start upgrading.

I pull my truck in and cut the engine. After stabbing the garage door button, I sit in the quiet darkness. Scrubbing a hand over my tired face, I run it through my hair before letting it fall limply to my lap. Today was another waste. We combed through every cab, bus, train, and independent driver in the area, hoping just one person had caught a glimpse of Rebecca. Anything, any tiny ass lead but we came up empty-handed. I expected as much but hoped for better. I can’t say I’ve been a shining example of positivity lately. With each day that passes, the negativity creeps in further.

With a sigh, I climb out into the darkness of my garage. An eerie feeling slithers up my spine. My right hand settles on the butt of my gun where it’s holstered just behind my right hip, and I look around the unlit space. A workbench runs parallel along the back wall; pegboard tiles the wall above it, to the left of the window, with an array of tools hanging from hooks. Beside the bench are two waste bins—recycling and garbage—but not enough space between for someone to hide. I turn slightly and move to the front of my truck. The right side of the garage has the new cabinetry I installed after I moved here. The shelving Dad had up was a serious safety hazard. And the tools I wanted to store wouldn’t fit.

Fuck, I curse myself. Nobody’s here. When I pulled the truck in the single-car garage, I would have seen someone, but the thought brings no comfort when I still feel like I’m being watched.

I stare out the single window into my backyard, straining my eyes to see through the thin amount of moonlight streaming through the smudged glass. The memory washes over me of that time I ran through the woods looking for Aislin. I’ve walked many nights alone since then, and each time, that same feeling of sickness comes over me. That desperate desire to either break out in a run or turn back to safety makes me feel like a damn pussy, but I haven’t been able to shake it since I was just a kid.

I roll my head, cracking my neck from side to side, and force myself to relax. I’m overworked and under-rested. That’s all this is.

The second that thought leaves my mind, Betsy howls loudly from inside my house.

“Damnit!” I remove my gun from its holster, cursing myself again. This time for not trusting my gut and letting my guard down.

Positioning myself next to the door, my gun gripped down by my side, I listen. More of that eerie silence engulfs me. Betsy growls again and lets out a sharp series of barks. Every muscle inside me tenses as if I’m expecting someone to burst through the door. Her paws click across the floor, so quietly that if I weren’t listening, I wouldn’t hear them. I think she’s moving toward the window.

Then silence.

I grip the knob, turning and pushing the door open. The hinges creak—the same way they have for thirty years. The damn things need replacing. That thought drifts away as I zero in on my training and focus on my surroundings.

The floorboards pop underneath my boots. I make my way across the hall, both hands gripping the pistol I hold up and ready. I turn to my left and scan the living room. A shadow flashes across the wall, and I nearly jump out of my fucking skin with the rush of adrenaline that hits me. A car turns down my street and headlights glow through the front window. Son of a bitch.

A low growl sounds again from near the back of the house. With the front clear, I make my way cautiously in that direction. Another floorboard snaps as I walk past, and I’m thankful they aren’t creaking. Whoever’s in my fucking house knows he isn’t alone, but it’s harder to pinpoint my location when only certain spots on the floor make noise.

The dining area has a low-sitting bay window, and that’s where I spot Betsy. The old dog is up on her hind legs, front paws pressed against the glass. The steam from her heavy panting fogs the glass in front of her, causing her to whip her head back and forth to see around the cloudy vapors. She lets out another low growl; her black eyes fixed on something outside. A ball of tension releases from my gut, and my grip slackens on the gun. Nobody’s inside. Outside, though…

“What is it, Bets?” I ask, moving toward the patio door. Someone might not be in my house, but something out there is setting her off.

Her paws click agitatedly against the glass, and she snarls, still fixated on whatever she sees.

The door silently slides open with a push, just enough to stick one booted foot and half my torso out. The chilly night air brushes my skin. I scan the dark, looking for movement, for anything.

That eerie silence creeps back in, but I push it out. After five minutes of standing half outside my door with a gun in my hand and not seeing a damn thing, I’m convinced nothing’s there. Not anymore. With one last scan across the wood line at the edge of my property, I step back inside, throw the door closed, and lock it.

“Down, Bets,” I mutter as I slip my gun back into the holster and make my way through the dining area into the kitchen. I need a beer, stat. After a long day at work, it’s going on nearly ten p.m., and I’ve had nothing to eat or drink in hours. My old girl follows my lead, brushing her warm body against my leg, and I trail my fingers through her bristly fur. She stops at her bed at the side of the kitchen while I continue straight to the refrigerator.

The bottle cap clicks across the countertop when I toss it, and the refreshing taste of hops provides instant relief. I down half the bottle and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. I lean back down into the fridge in search of food, but there’s not much to choose from. I really need to hit up the grocery store.

I pull out the ingredients and prep a deli sandwich. One bite in and the exhaustion from a full day hits me like a wave. I won’t need the help of a workout to fall asleep tonight. For the first time in what feels like ever, it seems my body will give in and let sleep pull me under.

After washing down my dinner with the rest of my beer, I unbutton my shirt and remove it on the way to my bedroom. Dropping it in the hamper, I remove my holster and set my gun on the nightstand to the right of my bed then peel the white tee over my head. My pants are next, both joining the dress shirt, and in nothing but a pair of boxers, I fall face down onto my king-size bed.

“Fuck,” I mumble, unable to fight my eyelids drifting closed, and within seconds, any thoughts left of the day dissipate as sleep carries me away.

* * *

I bolt upright in bed. Betsy howls from her place in the kitchen, and I can dazedly hear her nails clicking frantically across the floor. My eyes burn with dryness from prying them open during a deep sleep. What the fuck is going on?

I strain to hear a sound, anything other than Betsy, and my groggy mind flits back to earlier this evening. Whoever set off my dog must be back. Shit.

The sleepiness dissipates, and adrenaline takes its place. This I know. This I’m familiar with.

Most people would probably even say I recklessly welcome the burn of the chase. Some fucker is lurking around outside my house, and he’s not going to get away this time. On that thought, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, snag my dirty pants from earlier, and tug them up over my hips. I grab my phone, rip the tee over my head and start dialing. This time, I’m calling in backup.

“Tavers.”

“Need you at my place. Put a call in to dispatch. Second time tonight someone’s set my dog off and I’m not letting him get away this time.”

Tavers swears quietly, probably in an attempt not to wake his wife and child. I grab my loaded gun from the nightstand and check the hall. Clear.

“I’m on my way. Maybe you should wait for backup.”

My jaw clenches at his disapproving tone. “I’m not letting him disappear again. I don’t like being fucked with.”

That’s when I hear them. Gunshots.

Two. Three. Four. The pop so loud it sounds as if  they’re right outside my goddamned house.

I drop back into the hall and crouch down as Tavers’ anxious voice fires off in my ear.

“Goddammit, Niko, talk to me. What’s happening over there?”

I can hear him rushing around, but all it does is serve as a distraction. Someone’s out shooting in my yard; the last thing I’m going to do is sit around and wait for them to finish or try to break in.

“Get here as soon as you can,” I bark into the phone before hanging up and tucking it into my pocket. I trust him to do exactly as I’d do if the situation was reversed.

As I creep into the open area of the house, headlights pool directly into my front window. The

shades are pulled, dimming the muted yellow, but the direction looks as if someone is parked in my front yard.

I don’t realize how bad my hands are shaking until I reach for the sliding glass patio door to unlock it and sneak out the back. This has nothing to do with the current situation—I’ve been a cop for a long time and remaining calm under pressure has always been my forte. What this has to do with is that I’m in this house, in this fucking neighborhood, hearing gunshots go off in the middle of the night again. Something I haven’t dealt with in many years. Something I used to deal with at least once a week as a kid. With that thought, my mind immediately turns to my family, and the screaming need to run down the hall to make sure everyone is safe consumes me. Except my family isn’t here because I’m no longer a kid and this is now a safe neighborhood.

My stomach cramps painfully as I swallow dryly and step out into the black night. “Down,” I mutter low to Betsy who tries to follow. At my command, she drops to her belly directly in front of the patio door. Not where I want her, but it’ll do. I close the door behind me on the way out to keep her inside.

Centering my focus, I press my back along the siding of my house and scan the area in front of me. Just like earlier, there’s an eerie silence and nothing else. No movement. Not the snap of a twig or the twitch of a shadow. I direct my gaze to the windows of Aislin’s old house, but after a moment, it’s clear there’s no obvious movement there either.

Confident that the real threat is on my front lawn, I slowly creep along the back wall to the side of my house. Just as I start to peek around the corner, Betsy starts up a series of barks from inside. I can hear her jumping against the glass patio door. Her sudden noise startles me, and I trip farther out into the open than I mean to. The headlights from the car on my lawn bathe me in their yellow glow, and it feels like I’m the criminal here. Fuck! I know the second the driver spots me even though I can’t see a damn thing. Tires spin and chunks of my front lawn fly in the air. They peel out into the road, and without a second of hesitation, they’re gone.

I don’t wait any longer either and sprint to the back of my house. My lungs burn with the sudden movement, the adrenaline, and the intensity of the situation. I keep running to the other side, checking the area between Aislin’s old house and mine.

Empty.

Betsy’s barking stops, but I can hear her low growl coming from inside. When I round the corner again, she’s sitting in front of the patio door, staring into the wooded area behind my house. I start in that direction, straining my eyes and ears to pick up movement. Each step farther away from my house brings a new wave of paranoia. The sound of gunshots echoes in my head. My skin feels tight, and the area just below my right ear tingles. I roll my ear to my shoulder and pinch the muscles together to try to alleviate the sensation. A cold sweat starts to bead along my brow. My vision blackens along the edges and suddenly, the sound of my blood rushing fills my ears.

“Niko, hey. Hey!”

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my fucking skin. Somehow, Tavers managed to walk up right behind me, and I had no idea.

“Are you okay? We checked the front of the house, inside, outside, fuck, you were—I didn’t know where you’d gone off to. What the fuck, man?”

I spin around to see him inspecting me. “Christ, man, a little warning next time,” I bit out irately. I realize I’m still holding my weapon, so I click on the safety and tuck it into my waistband.

His brows crease in confusion. “I was calling your name. As soon as the place was cleared, I set out looking for you. Yelling for you. I come around the back of the house, and you’re standing here staring into the fucking trees. You weren’t even moving. Thank fuck you were standing or else I would have thought...” He lets whatever he was thinking trail off into the quiet.

I was moving, wasn’t I? I look around my location, and realize that I somehow stopped just along the tree line between my two houses. The fuck?

He steps up beside me, looking through the trees. “You sure you’re all right? I know work’s been a series of dead ends, but now this shit’s coming to your house... maybe you should take a few days off?”

“No,” I clip.

“Niko—ˮ

I level him with a steady glare—the only thing about me that seems steady at this moment. For some reason I can’t fathom, this is messing with my head.

He stares back, not one to be intimidated easily, and then lifts his hands in surrender. “Whatever. Don’t take a few days off, but you need to sit your ass at our dinner table some night this week or Mindy’s going to chew my head off.”

I sigh. “That I can do.”

“Come on. There’s an officer out front ready to take your statement. We got here, saw the tracks on your lawn, and sent the second squad to patrol the other direction since we didn’t pass anyone on our way out here. The other officer, I think she goes by Daniels, and I didn’t see anybody when we checked the perimeter.”

“Dammit.”

We walk to the front of my yard where four long divots stretch across the width and clumps of fresh earth litter my lawn.

“Detective James, if you wouldn’t mind letting me take your statement, we can get out of here and let you get back to bed,” a feminine voice calls out as she strides toward us.

I let myself appreciate her. Long, lean legs and curvy hips, that police uniform does a whole heck of a lot for her form. It more than hints of what lies underneath, and I can say that in another frame of mind, I might want to find out.

Tonight, though, I just want her to get the hell gone.

“Officer Daniels, is it?” She nods her head and takes my outstretched hand. “Sorry to drag you out here. I’ll keep it quick so we can all get on with our night.”

I don’t miss the way her eyes run over the tight tee stretched across my torso, and I swear when they flit back to my eyes, they hold a bit of desire.

“Not a problem at all, Detective.” She smirks.

“Niko,” I grunt.

Her small hand falls lightly on my bicep. That small contact ignites the adrenaline again, and I knock it away as if her touch burns. She gasps in shock. A cold sweat breaks out across my neck.

“Sorry,” I mutter. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Let’s just take your statement, okay?”

I cross my arms over my chest and nod, though my back molars are grinding together.

After I relay my information, she hightails it out of there but still tosses an appreciative glance my way before she goes. Tavers follows minutes later, ready to get back home to his wife and kid.

I walk inside and give Betsy a few good pats for doing her job and waking me up. As I turn toward the hall to my bedroom, though, I stop. I still can’t shake the paranoia. I feel like I could jump out of my damn skin. Even after the most disgusting nightmare, I’m able to find a way to keep busy until the fear goes away. This isn’t fear, though. This is something else. I can think of only one thing that’ll help. I snatch my keys from the bowl in the entry and stalk out to my truck.