Girl, you have got to get it together.
She eyed the still unpacked boxes with regret—she’d really had plenty of time to unpack by now, hadn’t she?—and wrestled with two armfuls of clothes. It all went flying into the laundry room, barely missing the curious cat that had followed her. The door made a much louder sound than she expected when she slammed it shut. Hannah cringed, and Abbott shot her a dirty look once he stopped his mad dash down the hall to get away from her.
The noise caught Brian’s attention, too, and Hannah smiled at him as she hurried back into the living room.
“Okay,” she said. “All clear. I had to, um—” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she struggled for a reasonable excuse. “Clean up the mess Costello made before we left.”
A strange whining sound came from the dog now sitting against her foot, and Hannah scanned down to see him looking up at her, his head cocked kind of funny. She squished her face up in apology and told him mentally, Sorry, boy. You know, just in case he’d understood her.
Brian reached down and gave the dog a friendly rub on the head. “Don’t worry, fella. We’re all a little messy sometimes.”
But he was looking at Hannah when he said it.
Glancing around, he asked, “How did the intruder get in?”
She tucked her hands in the back pocket of her trousers and sighed. “The police seemed to think he disabled the security alarm first, then came in through the French doors in back.”
“So he probably gained entry through the back yard,” he concluded. “Is it fenced?”
“Of course.”
Hannah hung back and watched as Brian inspected every window and door. He disappeared outside for a while, then returned holding a small piece of wire in a handkerchief.
“They were right about the security system, but they missed some evidence. Do you have a plastic bag?”
Seeing the piece of wire shot a zing of panic through her motionless body. This had really happened. Someone had actually been in her home. She really had beaten off a wannabe kidnapper with the old baseball bat she’d taken from Miss Parham’s attic.
“You okay?” Brian asked, and she shook herself, feeling slightly dazed.
“There are some bags in the kitchen.” Her fingers fumbled with opening the drawers, and Hannah swore under her breath. “The alarm company came out and repaired the alarm this morning, so it’s okay, right?” When she passed the plastic bag to him, Brian wasn’t smiling. “What?”
“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Dawson.”
“Hannah,” she reminded him.
“Security alarms are great at scaring off amateurs, but against people who really know what they’re doing, you’re wasting your money.” He looked sincere. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have one, but considering your situation, you really should take extra precautions.”
She slid her hands into her back pockets again. “What kind of extra precautions?”
His stone-faced expression relaxed a bit. “Contacting us was a great start. I’ve got a few ideas we can work on—” He reached for the buzzing phone belted at his hip, frowned and told her, “I’m sorry. I need to take this.”
Hannah leaned back against the counter and felt something furry press against her bare arm. Abbott, the darn cat, had jumped up on the counter again and rubbed his black and white head against her elbow. He circled around and got her from the other side too. She guessed that meant he forgave her for giving him a scare earlier, so she picked him up and gave him a proper petting in apology.
Honestly, she didn’t know what she’d do without the cat and dog these days. Her little boys. She had a feeling she’d be ridiculously lonely without them.
They were her everything, which could mean only one thing.
She was a crazy cat lady. Well, crazy cat lady with a dog. Or maybe there was another name for her. Crazy…pet fanatic?
“Don’t panic!” Brian exclaimed from the other room. Abbott tugged away, demanding to be set on the ground again, and darted into the living room. Hannah followed Abbott, and Costello followed Hannah.
One thing was immediately obvious. Her massive muscle of a bodyguard was weak on his feet. She hurried forward the same second he reached out a hand to steady himself against the back of the sofa, only to crumple to the floor anyway. He never let go of his phone, though, and as Hannah knelt beside him—his color was pale and the pulse at his wrist was unusually high—he told the person on the other end, “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there.”
He pressed END on the phone and immediately began hyperventilating.
What the heck was going on?
Hannah checked his pulse again and then reached out to feel for his temperature. “Breathe slow,” she told him. “Deep breaths. Release. Good.”
Costello jumped up and began humping the leg that was sprawled out in front of Brian. “No.” Hannah told the dog, shoving him away. “You’re not helping.”
The dog sat back so his chunky body was gathered around his back feet. She shot him an I-can’t-believe-you look and shook her head, but the always-content canine opened his mouth and grinned.
“Are you having chest pains?” Hannah reached for Brian’s phone and began dialing 911. “Nausea? How’s your vision?”
Brian’s hand reached out and stopped her. “No.” He shook his head, looking dazed. A gleam of sweat glistened along his forehead. “I think maybe…panic attack?” He shook his head. “I’ve never had one before, but I’ve had friends who have.” He reached for her shoulder and tried to press himself up.
“What happened?” Against her better judgment, she helped him rise to his feet.
His fingers were trembling when he reached for his phone again. “My wife’s water just broke.”
“Oh.” As his words sank in, she felt him begin to tilt sideways and circled her arm around his back to keep him from falling again. Geez, the guy was heavy. My wife’s water just broke. “Ooooh.” She’d seen this before. First-time father. Panic attack.
Hannah had only worked in labor and delivery during her student nurse rotations, but she’d seen enough to know Brian wasn’t the first tough guy to go down when labor began.
Brian stumbled around, and as his human crutch, Hannah stumbled around with him, the cat and dog dodging their footsteps. Hannah groaned. Where was a camera when you needed one? She didn’t have a monitor handy, but she suspected Brian’s blood pressure was dangerously low due to shock. She needed to get him seated and calm as soon as possible.
Propping her bodyguard against the wall, Hannah reached for her purse, hustled Abbot into his carrier and grabbed Costello’s leash. Then she wrestled the three-ring circus out of her living room and into her car.
She prayed they’d all make it to the hospital in one piece.
Zach clenched his back teeth to keep from saying something that would land him in a lawsuit or worse. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his desk and fisted his fingers.
“You want to tell me that again?” His voice was terse.
Kellan Murphy met his gaze unflinching across the desk. For the last three years, Zach and Brian had considered him their next-in-charge, the most dependable guy on their team, a leader for the others.
“You’re quitting on us?” Zach clarified.
“I didn’t say that.” Red crept up Kellan’s neck and colored his cheeks. He looked away. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear.