Page 88 of The Bodyguard

Robby checked the texts on his phone. “According to Kelly, it was a handknitted sweater with a remarkably photorealistic image of Stapleton’s face on the front, an album of snapshots of her new litter of puppies, and a batch of nudes.”

“A batch of nudes?” I asked. “Nudes of who? Nudes of the principal?”

“Nudes of the corgi breeder.”

Jesus.

“She also left a handwritten note welcoming Jack home to Houston—and reminding him that her biological clock is ticking, and she’d really prefer him to impregnate her sometime this spring, if that works for his schedule.”

Robby handed me a tablet so I could scroll through the photos Kelly had sent.

“So,” I said, thinking out loud. “Does this mean we’re we at threat level orange?”

“I think, given the puppies and hearts, we’re still at yellow.”

“The nudes are a little menacing.”

“Point taken.”

Taylor piped up. “No threats, though. Not from her, anyway.”

“Other than…” I thought about what on earth the term for it would be. “Coerced impregnation?”

“That part’s worrisome,” Robby agreed.

“And the fact that she now knows he’s in Houston,” Taylor said.

“And knows his address,” I added.

We psychoanalyzed the Corgi Lady for a little while, trying to assess the danger she posed, and then we adjusted protocols at the Houston house. Kelly had already filed the police report and begun proceedings for a restraining order. We’d need to switch out the Range Rover for a different color and make, as well.

By the time I left HQ, it was getting dark.

I hadn’t even made it to the Stapletons’ gate when Robby shouted after me. “Hey!” he called. “Glenn’s on the phone.”

I’d forgotten about Glenn. But it was pretty late now. Connie would be up from her nap, and she’d need something in her stomach before her next round of meds.

“You know what?” I said. “I’ll call him later.”

And that’s how, without even realizing it, I decided to stay.

I WAS HALFWAYdown the gravel road to the house, sweeping my eyes back and forth for any signs of cattle, when I saw Jack running—actually running—out to meet me.

He reached me without even breaking stride and enclosed me in his arms.

“Where were you?” he asked, squeezing tight. “I was worried.”

“I had to go to headquarters.”

I could feel his heart beating. It did seem a little fast.

For a second, I thought it was real.

I relaxed into it the way you do in a real moment.

But then I thought I should confirm before I enjoyed it too much. “What are you doing?” I asked, my face pressed into his shoulder and my voice muffled against his shirt.

“My parents are watching,” Jack said.