Guarding Jane Doe. Harper Allen

to her would certainly have something to talk about if she saw them here.

      “It’s the brass one,” she whispered angrily. “You can come in and wait while I change out of your T-shirt, but that’s all.”

      “We’ll see about that.” The porch light picked up the glints of pewter in his hair and carved grim shadows around his mouth. He started to insert the key in the lock and then scowled, turning the knob. The door opened. “Top-notch security you’ve got here,” he said briefly, shooting her a glance.