The body language of someone used to intimidation working. Sarge growled. Not loud, not dramatic. Just a low rolling rumble that came from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound that said, "I am very good at what I do and what I do is protect.
Test me and find out." The tall one stopped moving. " You need to leave," the shorter one said again, "before this gets ugly." " It's already ugly," Garrett said. " Two grown men in a woman's house making her shake like that.
That's about as ugly as it gets." " This is business, legal business. Mrs. Brennan owes money. We're here to collect." " You collectors or enforcers?"
The tall one smiled. No warmth in it. " What's the difference?" " Collectors work during business hours. They send letters.
They make phone calls. They don't show up at someone's house at 9:00 in the morning and close the door behind them." " Smart old man," the shorter one said, "but not smart enough. Walk away while you still can." Garrett looked at Evelyn.
She was crying now. Silent tears running down her face. Shoulders hunched like she was trying to make herself smaller. Invisible. He thought about Kate.
About finding her on the kitchen floor. About all the ways he'd failed to protect her because he'd assumed he'd have more time. Assumed tomorrow was guaranteed. He thought about the notice in his pocket. Five days.
$78,000. He thought about the bruises on Evelyn's wrist. The burn mark on her arm. And he made a choice. " I'm not walking away."
The tall one moved fast. Faster than Garrett expected for a man that size. Closing the distance in two steps, hand reaching out to grab Garrett's shirt, Sarge launched. 90 lb of trained German Shepherd hitting the tall man's center mass. They went down together.
The man's head cracking against the hardwood floor hard enough to make a sound like a baseball bat hitting concrete. The dog didn't bite. Didn't need to. Just stood on the man's chest, teeth an inch from his throat, growl steady and certain. The shorter one reached for something at his belt.
Garrett moved. Not fast, not flashy. Just efficient. The way the army had taught him 30 years ago. Step in, grab the wrist, twist, apply pressure to the elbow joint.
The man went down on one knee gasping. " Hands where I can see them," Garrett said quietly. The man complied. Slowly. On his belt, not a gun, a knife.
Folding blade. Civilian carry, nothing fancy. Garrett removed it, pocketed it, released the man's wrist. " You just made the biggest mistake of your life," the shorter one said. He was breathing hard.
Sweating. But his eyes were steady. Certain. " Wade Kimball doesn't forget. He doesn't forgive.
And he sure as hell doesn't lose." " Wade Kimball," Garrett repeated. " He your boss?" " He's your nightmare. You just don't know it yet."
The tall one was trying to push Sarge off his chest. Not successfully. The dog had found a comfortable spot and was settling in. " Sarge, off." The dog backed away, reluctantly.
Still growling. Still ready. " Get out," Garrett said. " We're not done here," the shorter one said. " Yeah, you are."
Garrett kept his voice level, calm. But he shifted his weight slightly. The posture that said he'd done this before. That said trying him wasn't the smart play. The two men looked at each other.
Some kind of silent communication. Then the tall one stood up slow, one hand on the back of his head where it had hit the floor. They headed for the door. At the threshold, the shorter one turned back. " Five days, Mrs. Brennan.
Then we're back with the sheriff. And you'll wish you dealt with us instead." They left. The black sedan started up, pulled out of the driveway, disappeared down Cottonwood Lane. Garrett closed the door, locked it, turned around.
Evelyn was still crying. Still shaking. Hands over her face now. Small sounds escaping between her fingers. Sarge moved to her.
Put his head on her knee. Gentle. The way he used to do with Kate when she was upset. Evelyn's hand came down. Touched the dog's head.
And something broke. The crying got louder, messier. The kind of crying that came from somewhere deep and hadn't been allowed out in a long time. Garrett stood there. Uncomfortable.
He'd never been good at this part. The emotional part. Kate had been the one who knew what to say when someone was hurting. Garrett just knew how to fix engines. But engines weren't what needed fixing here.
He waited. Because sometimes that was all you could do. Wait until the storm passed. Eventually, 5 minutes, 10 time got strange when someone was breaking down in front of you. Evelyn got quiet.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. Took a shaky breath. " I'm sorry," she whispered. " No need to be sorry, ma'am." " You shouldn't have done that.
Now you're— Her voice broke. Now you're in danger, too." Garrett pulled out a chair from her dining table. Sat down. Sarge stayed next to Evelyn, head still on her knee. "