When her father commanded him to return from the driveway, Turk looked over his shoulder, but stayed loyal to Izzy.  Crying, she had buried her face in his fur as she told him to go. He refused even as she screamed at him to return home, pointing to the house.  Steadfastly he refused.  It was harder walking away from that big protective boy than it had been to leave her sister, who didn’t blink when the shit hit the fan.  Turk stood loyal.  It wasn’t until her father leashed him and told her to get out of his sight and never darken his doorstep again that she was able to leave.

All these years later she could still hear Turk’s pitiful howls for her return.

He didn’t understand why she left.  If she could have taken him with her, she would have.  But he wasn’t hers to have.

Sighing heavily, Izzy thought Flynn would be a lot like Turk if she was as patient with him.  What if after all her efforts she was the one left alone and howling on the driveway?

Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she groaned.  Izzy couldn’t live the way her mother had.  Miserable because the man she loved had broken her heart.  Izzy wasn’t the type of person to dabble.  She was either fully committed or she was completely out.  It was the only way she knew how to do things.  Nothing halfway. It had gotten her through college and into law school.

It would be the same with Flynn.  In or out.  Rinsing her coffee cup, she set it in the sink.  Last night the answer was simple. Now she wasn’t sure.  Not of her feelings for Flynn, but of her feelings for herself.  She’d suffered enough pain, humiliation, and rejection for a lifetime.

Going all in for Flynn was a gamble.  If she hit the jackpot, the rewards would be priceless.  If she rolled the dice and lost, the cost would be disastrous.

As the day wore on, Izzy changed her mind every five minutes.  Each time she did, she was sure she had made the right decision for her mental health and well-being.

When she slipped beneath the sheets that night and closed her eyes, her head hurt. In the recesses of her mind and in the depths of her heart, Izzy knew she could not pass up the chance to win Flynn’s heart.  On that note, the rain started to come down again. Smiling, she drifted off into Flynn dreamland…

…Izzy started, her eyes popping open.  A sound had woken her. Her body tightened.  There it was again.  From the kitchen door, the scrape of metal on metal as if someone was picking her lock and not caring if she heard.

Grabbing for her cell phone, she stifled a cry when she realized she’d left it on the charger in the kitchen. The creak of the kitchen door slowly opening propelled her from her bed across the hall to Charlie’s room, where she knew he had a big wrench he used to weigh down his Brad Pitt blow-up doll.

Grabbing it, Izzy pushed Brad out of her way when he bounced in front of her.

There was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by the sound of a fist meeting flesh and bones.  Then a grunt, another crash; this time it sounded like her kitchen table had splintered into pieces.  More grunts.

Who the hell was fighting in her kitchen?  And why?

Flattening against the wall, wrench clutched like a club in her right hand, Izzy inched down the hall.  It sounded as if the fight had moved from her kitchen outside to the side porch.  The steady rain muffled the sounds.

If she could just get to her cell phone on the counter.

Standing still, wrench over her head, Izzy listened. For a long minute she didn’t hear anything but the rain. The house was dark. This was her chance.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to go for her phone. As she darted for the counter, an arm grabbed her.  She screamed and swung the wrench around, clunking her assailant on the head.

The arm loosened. “Christ!” The man she hit dropped to his knees.

“Flynn?” she cried, turning on the light.

When she turned back to him he was on his back, soaking wet, blood streaming down the side of his head.

“Oh, my, God, Flynn!” She dropped to her knees and touched his head, recoiling as she touched warm blood.  “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you!”

His dazed eyes opened.  “Bad guy’s on the driveway…Lock the door. Cops on their way.”  Narrowing his eyes, he stared at her for a moment as if collecting his thoughts.  “Are you okay?”

“Bad guy? What bad guy?” she shrieked. Frantic, Izzy stood up, grabbed a wad of paper towels from the counter and dampened them, then pressed them to his head, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“The one I just caught breaking into your house.”

Izzy’s body shook violently.  “I—I’m, yes, okay.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes.

 “You’re bleeding bad, Flynn, I need to call an ambulance,” she sobbed.

Opening his eyes, he shook his head, some of the daze gone. “One on the way. I beat the shit out of that guy.” He grinned despite the pain he must be suffering.  “Never knew what hit him.”  Holding the paper towels to his head, Flynn moved to sit up, groaning as he did.

“Stay down. Wait for the paramedics.”

“I’m good. Just help me up.”

Knowing that arguing with him would be futile, Izzy slid one hand under his armpit and grasped his hand with her free hand, and pulled him toward her.  He was big, and had he not done most of the work, he would have remained on the floor. Slowly, he stood with her help.  Guiding him to the one chair left intact, she helped him into it.  “How did you know someone was here?”

“I’ve been parked out front all night.  It was too quiet for my liking so I decided to do a perimeter check. When I came around to the side of the house, he was just going into the kitchen.  I got him as he was headed for the hallway.”

Her heart thundered against her chest.  She could have been killed!  “I was sound asleep.  But something woke me. When I realized someone was trying to break in and I didn’t have my phone with me, I ran into Charlie’s room and grabbed his Brad Pitt wrench.  I’m sorry, I had no idea it was you.”

“It’s okay.  I’d take a dozen more if meant keeping you safe.”

Despite the shock of what had just happened in her house, Izzy’s heart swelled at his words.  “Thank you,” she said softly.

Instead of nicely saying, you’re welcome, he scowled and said, “If you had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

Distant sirens wailed closer.

Flynn was pissed. He stood slowly and tossed the bloody towels onto the counter.  “You could be dead or worse, Isadora! I’m not going to take no for an answer again, you’re coming home with me and that’s where you’ll stay until this is over.”

“I’m sorry, Flynn,” she said.  He was right.  She’d been foolish to stay here alone, but when he’d asked, going home with him wasn’t an option.

He touched her cheek with his fingertips.  “You scared ten years off my life.  Don’t do it again.” He turned and strode out the door to meet the arriving cavalry.

Izzy moved to the doorway and listened as Flynn let loose a string of expletives.

“He was out cold, right there,” he said to the approaching cop, pointing to the driveway.  “Motherfucker got away.”

“We’ll put a BOLO out,” the cop said.

“Get a dog out here stat. If he’s on foot, we’ll get him.”

The uniform called for a K-9 unit. Then Flynn gave him a description.  White male, age late twenties early thirties, six two, two eighty, dark hair, eye color unknown, only disguisable mark was a deep scar that ran from chin into the bottom lip, dark pants and sweater.  Flynn squatted and peered at something in the damp grass.

“Get me a bag,” Flynn commanded the officer.

Flynn pulled his cell phone out and made a call.  As the police officer came back with an evidence bag, Flynn picked the item up with it, and sealed it.

“My guys are on their way in.  I’ll hold on to this,” he said to the uniform.