Page 67 of Point Blank

“It has to be ten carats.” She opened the black velvet drawstring bag that she’d pulled from her pocket. “Dump them in.”

Milo shook the diamonds out of the tray, and they fell into the bag like a rainbow waterfall of glittering candy, catching the light to send tiny prisms along the wall. Milo put the tray back in the safe and closed it with a gentle thunk. Serena fit the bag into her jacket pocket and zipped it shut. Milo returned the frame to its original position and latched it.

Serena lifted her wrist to her lips. “We’ve got the diamonds. We’re heading out now.”

“Gotcha. I’m waiting beneath the balcony,” Brock said.

“The coast is clear from my vantage point—we’ll be out of here in no time.” Peyton’s reassuring sing-song pep settled the tremor in Serena’s bones.

Milo’s hand nestled between her shoulder blades and moved her through the bathroom and toward the doorway of the bedroom.

A deep growl rumbled through the air. She froze. “What the hell was?—”

“Get back!” Milo shoved her behind him as a rush of energy from the bedroom charged at them. She cried out, and her back connected with the marble vanity. Milo’s body crushed against her front, the only barrier between the ferocious beast and her.

A sharp ringing screamed through her ears, deafening her. Her heart roared, warring with the attack on her eardrums. She could barely make out Brock’s words. “Serena! What’s going on?”

Serena slid her gaze around Milo’s shoulder. The black rottweiler’s white teeth were on display, and its muscles jerked beneath its shiny coat. Heat radiated off Milo’s back. His arms hovered in front of him, his stance wide, as if trying to block every inch of her from the animal. She didn’t dare breathe, let alone answer Brock.

“On the count of three, run for the door,” Milo said in a whisper.

Her eyes widened. He had to be out of his effing mind. She wasn’t charging past that thing.

“No.”

“Do it.”

The dog’s deep, guttural growling intensified, and she bit her lip to fight off a whimper.

“Do it before it tears my fucking balls off.”

She couldn’t nod, only groan.

“Now!”

She tore her feet from the safety behind Milo and charged for the door. The dog darted after her. Its sharp whine brought her to a halt on the bedroom carpet. She whirled around. Milo had one hand latched around the dog’s muzzle, his other arm across its chest, and his legs braced on either side of its body, immobilizing it.

“Don’t hurt it,” she wailed.

“I’m not hurting it for god’s sake, but I’m not going to let it attack you. Go,” he said, nodding at the balcony. “You need a head start.”

Her breath expanded in her lungs, sending sharp pain through her chest. No. She couldn’t leave him here. By some stroke of luck, the animal hadn’t barked, but if it did, Milo would be toast. Thank god the guards were in the kitchen eating pizza in a far section of the house and likely hadn’t heard the commotion since they’d already done their rounds of the upstairs.

“I’m not leaving you.”

His face pinched into the sharpest scowl his face had held since the night he told her he never wanted to see her again. “This isn’t negotiable. Get the hell out of here.”

She wet her lips and lifted her wrist. “Brock, we’re stuck. A rottweiler has us trapped in the bedroom. Milo has him restrained.”

Brock cursed. “Did it bark?”

“No,” she said, ignoring the flares of rage in Milo’s eyes.

“Got any food?”

She winced. Normally she carried a cashew bar in her purse, but the sleek backpack Milo wore hadn’t been packed with rations. Milo, picking up on Brock’s question, shook his head.

“No,” she said. She turned in a circle, taking in the room. There had to be something they could use. She inched past Milo and the now snarling dog and went to the closet. She grabbed a handful of silk ties and turned back to Milo.