Page 112 of Lethal Danger

“I will.”

Nev played the movie, and they watched the rest of it in silence.

Jazz had encouraged Nev to like Branson and supported her when she’d found love. Why couldn’t Nev do the same for her?

Nothing seemed to go right anymore. Except for Hawthorne.

The hero in the movie said something sweet to the heroine, a lovesick light in his eyes.

But Jazz heard Hawthorne’s voice instead, saw his handsome face, his amazing eyes aimed at her, filled with love and acceptance.

If things continued with Hawthorne like she hoped they would, she’d finally have the happiness she’d been looking for all her life. She couldn’t wait.

Thirty-One

Jazz raised her eyebrows as Phoenix and Dag veered toward the older, two-story house instead of the large building with a sign that read: Forever Home.

Jazz followed with Flash, but her nerves tensed. This whole setup was so weird—Phoenix bringing only Jazz somewhere she didn’t bring most of the PK-9 team.

And now she was leading Jazz to a house that looked very lived-in, judging from the tricycle and toys on the front porch.

Phoenix didn’t take detours. So why was she going up to someone’s personal home instead of to the kennel where the sound of dogs barking echoed through the walls? Or out to the grassy property where it looked like fences partitioned off sections that held agility equipment.

Jazz kept her questions to herself as she followed the boss. But she wasn’t going to be caught unaware if Phoenix was setting up some kind of trap. Even if it was an emotional one to lay all her insecurities bare, like Nev had suggested last night.

The front door swung open before Phoenix reached it.

“Phoenix.” A woman of medium height with dark brown, wavy hair appeared in the doorway, a sweet smile on her face. Like the kind a person would give a long-lost friend.

Not the usual response people had to Phoenix.

“Come in.” The woman stepped back, and—another shocker—Phoenix and Dag walked in.

Jazz followed, counting on Flash to give her warning if Phoenix had set up some kind of ambush to test their skills.

Squeals jerked Flash’s attention to two small bodies tumbling past. He pulled at the leash, wanting to chase the boys who couldn’t be more than three or four.

“Phoenix!” Another boy, maybe about five or six, and a girl who looked the same age shouted the boss’s name in unison from the kitchen counter. They smeared what appeared to be blue paint from their hands onto the cushions as they slipped off the bar stools they had sat on.

“Hold on.” The brunette’s voice held more gentleness than scolding as she pointed at them. “Wash first.”

They groaned as they scrambled around the counter to a sink where they suddenly grew in height. Probably thanks to a short stool or something.

“You’ll have to excuse all the chaos. It gets lively around here sometimes.” The brunette turned a smile toward Jazz, letting her see the other side of the woman’s face for the first time.

Jazz tried to keep her expression blank as she took in the scarring that puckered and marred the entire left cheek. The poor woman.

“I’m Marion Moore, Director of Forever Home and mother to these tykes.” She waved toward the children, the smile not leaving her face as she extended her other hand toward Jazz. “Though it feels more like I’m a ringmaster at a circus most days.”

Jazz shook the woman’s small hand. “Glad to meet you. You’re a dog trainer, too, I understand.”

“I try to be. I think the dogs teach me more than I teach them.” Marion’s gentle demeanor and laidback friendliness had such a warming, welcoming effect that Jazz’s tension relaxed.

The two fingerpainters rushed over to Phoenix and Dag, then braked abruptly one foot away as if they’d been trained to do so. “May we pet your dog?” The girl asked the question as the boy leaned forward, clearly anticipating the answer.

“You may.” They shot toward Dag, who sat perfectly still and solid, as always.

“Slowly.” Marion smiled at the children as they reached out their hands in closed fists to Dag.

---