Theirs to Keep

By Emmalee Quinn

I'm taken away from the only home I've ever known, and relocated to a small town in Indiana, after my psycho of an ex-fiance tries to kill me.  So, here I am - new house, new job, and a new town.  I'm barely in my house for a week, when the police show up at my door. It turns out, the two sexy police officers are my new neighbors. Strange things happen after that, and I'm beginning to think I've lost my mind.  I'm positive that my ex has found me. And it turns out, my hunky new neighbors want to keep and protect me. I, then, meet the detective working my case, who is just as hunky as my new guys. He wants to keep and protect me, too. Can my new sexy protectors keep me safe from my ex, so we can, someday, have our happily ever after?

Theirs to Keep is a standalone, and is not part of a series.  This book contains hot and steamy bedroom fun and is only recommended for adults over the age of 18.

Warning: This book contains some violence, and may contain triggers for some readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emmalee Quinn
• Release date: Sep 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215047156

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ashlynn

T hat should do it, Linc. I say, tearing down the last of the cardboard boxes.

Lincoln, my german shepherd, is laying down in the corner of my living room, watching me as I unpack the last of my books.  He perks up and gives me that adorable head tilt when he hears his name. I had boxes upon boxes of books that I finally got unpacked and placed, by genre, of course, on my built-in shelving.  I wasn't allowed to keep any personal items when re-locating, but I insisted on keeping my books.  Agent Radcliffe, my handler, had fought me tooth and nail, but, eventually, gave in.  They're just books, after all. He had acquiesced.  They're not just books to me. My books are my escape from the harsh world we live in.  When I was escorted to the apartment I had shared with my ex to pack my clothing, the only possessions I cared about were my books and my dog, Lincoln. I had packed an overnight bag with just two changes of clothing, and left the rest of my belongings.  I didn't want any reminders of my life with him.  Like the emerald green sweater that Mason had said brought out the golden hue of my eyes, or his favorite red dress, which I was wearing when he had proposed. I didn't need or want any of it.  Upon arriving in Shelbyville three days ago, I had used my new card with my new name and purchased a whole new wardrobe online.

Everything else in my new home had been provided for me by the Witness Security Program.

Agent Radcliffe had shown me around the furnished, bungalow-style home, providing me with information on the utilities as we went from room to room. Before leaving, he had provided me with my new cell phone and laptop, then vehemently reminded me that I wasn't to contact anyone from my past.  As if I had anyone left to contact.  My parents had both passed while I was a sophomore in college, and I had distanced myself from the few friends I had because Mason had disliked them. Stupid, Samantha!

Ashlynn. My name is Ashlynn. I quietly remind myself.

My phone dings with the reminder I set for myself, reminding me that the contractor should be here soon to set up my new security system.  I gather up the cardboard boxes, then walk them outside, discarding them in the trash.

Shoot. I can't remember when Agent Radcliffe said the trash gets collected. I say to myself, eyeing the now full trash can. I walk back inside and Lincoln starts circling my legs, whining and wagging his tail. I open the back door, allowing him to go outside and pee.  I shut the door behind him, when there is a knock on the front door.

Chapter 2

Wyatt

Iturn down my street , my eyelids growing heavier the closer to home I get.  I've just come off a 12-hour shift, and can almost hear my bed calling for me. At least I have the next three days off.

Working as an officer with the Shelbyville Police Department, I work four 10-hour shifts, then have off three days.  I only stayed an extra couple of hours today to catch up on paperwork.

I turn into my driveway and get out of my car.  I notice the local security company van in the driveway next door, as I make my way to my front door. I know someone has moved into the small house next door, though I haven't met my new neighbors yet. I know they have a german shepherd, as I've seen him outside roaming around the back yard. It's a beautiful dog, reminding me of the german shepherd I had growing up in Nashville.

Once inside, I shower, throw on a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt, then throw myself into bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I awake a few hours later and make my way into the kitchen for a water. I find Lucas at the island mixing together some cheese concoction in a mixing bowl.

What is that? I ask, getting a bottled water from the fridge.

Ricotta, parmesan, and Romano cheese. I'm making lasagna for dinner. He says, only glancing up from his task for a second.

I look over the rest of the island, and only now notice the cooked lasagna noodles laid out over parchment paper. I'm not a good cook. I don't cook at all.  Lucas is a damn good cook, which is a good thing.  If left up to me, we'd be living off of frozen meals.  Well, that's not true.  I can make a mean cup of ramen noodles.  The fact that all I have to do is add boiling water to the noodles is besides the point.

The sound of barking has me walking to the window in the kitchen, which overlooks the new neighbors' back yard and the side of their house.

I smile when I see the german shepherd barking at a squirrel, that has just raced up a tree.

Have you met the new neighbor yet? Lucas asks me, walking up beside me to glance out the window. He laughs when the squirrel starts to taunt the dog by coming part way down the tree, stopping just out of reach of the dog's leap.

Nah. They must have had a security system installed today. I saw the van next door when I got home.  Haven't seen the neighbors yet, though. I reply.

I think it's only one person living there.  I've only ever seen the Toyota 4Runner parked in the driveway. Lucas says.

The dog stops barking and forgets the squirrel completely, when a woman walks out the back door and calls for him.  He darts over to her, wagging his tail, and starts to spin in circles at her feet. I can't see her face, but she has a damn fine body. Long brown hair hangs in loose curls from a pony tail, reaching the middle of her back. As my gaze moves lower down her body, I notice she's tall and curvy, the short, denim shorts showing off long, toned legs. She turns slightly, and bends down to pet the dog, and I can make out the swell of her generous breasts under the green tank top she is wearing.  The dog darts off, suddenly, returning quickly with a yellow tennis ball.  He drops the ball at her feet, then sits, patiently waiting for her to throw the ball. She throws the ball a few times, the dog returning to his sitting position after retrieving the ball each time. After a few more retrievals, she lets the ball sit at her feet, then says something to the dog.  The dog lays down, then.  She says something again, and the dog sits back up, staring at the woman expectantly.  After one more command, the dog lifts his paw for a shake.  She takes the dogs paw and gives it a small shake. Good dog.  She reaches into her pocket, retrieving a treat, and rewards him before petting him again.

Lucas returns to his task of finishing dinner, while I continue to watch the woman and her dog. She says something to the dog and points to the back door. The dog darts to the door, and the woman turns to follow.  And that's when I see her face.

Fuck.

Chapter 3

Lucas

F uck. I hear Wyatt groan.

I turn to look at him, but he's still staring out the window.

What is it? I ask, going back to layering the lasagna.

Damn, Lucas. Our new neighbor is hot. Are you sure she's living there alone? He asks.

I would bet on it. Like I said, I've only seen the one vehicle in the driveway. That, and you said someone was there installing a security system. I'd bet she's living there alone. I explain.

How is a woman that looks like that, single? He asks, still staring out the window.

I chuckle. Maybe she's crazy. Now quit stalking the poor woman and grab me a beer, would ya?

Our three days off together were spent, as usual, drinking beer, playing video games, watching baseball, and then Sunday dinner at my parent's house.  There are definitely more pros to working the same shift as your best friend than there are cons.  We, literally, do everything together. We work together and live together. I've heard the occasional gay rumor, but we don't pay it any mind. People don't understand the kind of relationship that can form when you serve together and trust each other with your lives. Wyatt is as close to a brother that one can be without actually being related.

Wyatt sits next to me in our cruiser.  We'd responded to a call about a stranded motorist some time ago, and are now on our way to go grab some lunch.

Dispatch to unit 3. Come in unit 3.  I hear come through the radio strapped to my shoulder.

This is Officer Rivers. Go ahead, dispatch. I say into my radio.

An alert from Shelbyville Security just came in.  An alarm at a residence close to your location was triggered, and the security company can't get a hold of the resident. Dispatch relays.

Address? I ask.

302 Primrose. Dispatch says.

Shit.  That's...next door to us. Wyatt says from the seat next to me.

Copy. Heading that way now. I tell dispatch.

We arrive at the home of our new neighbor, and take in the surroundings as we move quickly towards the front door. Nothing looks amiss, but we can hear the alarm going off inside the house.

Shelbyville Police Department. Wyatt yells, as he pounds on the front door.

We hear a curse from just inside, before the door swings open.

Our new neighbor stands before us, flustered, as the alarm continues to wail.

Is everything okay, ma'am? I ask loudly.

I'm sorry, I can't get the damn alarm to shut off. She yells.

After confirming that she is not in any danger, we remove our hands from the guns at our hips and