Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
B rynn kept working on her ropes. Cray and his sidekick, Ronny, still hadn’t come back.
She had to get free.
She heard dogs barking somewhere close by. The poor things. She guessed they were dogs that had been trained for the dog fights.
Her stomach churned. Assholes . Breeding dogs to be aggressive and putting them in rings to tear each other apart was barbaric. The real animals were these men organizing it and watching it.
She was sure now that Tom Moore had stumbled onto it, and that’s why he’d been killed.
The rope on her right wrist loosened.
Yes . She pulled her hand free, rubbing her abraded skin. She had to get out of here. If Cray touched her in any way, Vander would lose it. And not in an angry, wild way. No, her deadly husband would go cold and dark.
She got to work on her other wrist. A second later, the rope slithered off her.
Yes .
Brynn rose, and felt her muscles protest from sitting in the same position for too long. She reached up and touched the back of her head where it throbbed. Some asshole—she suspected Cray—had hit her hard.
He’d pay. For all of this.
She glanced around, but didn’t see anyone. She quickly headed for the shadows at the edge of the warehouse. The light outside the windows was waning, so night was falling. She spotted a metal door and moved toward it.
When she tested the handle, it was unlocked. She eased the door open.
It looked like a gym of some sort. There were mats and equipment. She spotted a sign on the wall. Bayside Muay Thai.
Must be a legit business at the front, hiding the rest of the not-legal stuff behind it. A few men stepped into view.
Brynn ducked back and quietly closed the door. She had no idea if they were in on the dog fighting or innocent. Right now, she wanted to escape—quietly—without anyone seeing her.
She moved in the other direction, keeping close to the stained stucco wall.
In the gloom, a set of doubles door appeared in the back of the warehouse. As she approached, the barking of dogs got louder.
She turned the handle an inch and peered inside.
The first thing she saw was the pit.
Her belly clenched hard.
It was about twenty feet by twenty feet, and surrounded by ply-wood walls. Around the pit was crude tiered seating. She could imagine the spectators sitting there, egging the dogs on. There was an old, blood-stained carpet lining the bottom of the pit and her lip curled. She’d read the carpet was to give the dogs more traction.
She turned away, sickened by it all. On the other side of the pit was another set of double doors, where the sound of barking was coming from. It had to be a way out.
Brynn crept quietly around the fighting pit and wished she had her weapon. She dragged in a deep breath and pushed the doors open.
Her chest tightened. The space beyond was lined with cages. As she made her way through the space, dogs rammed the wire, barking wildly. She saw pit bulls, German shepherds and Rottweilers. All aggressive and mean.
The poor things. She saw most were covered in scars, had their ears chewed off and eyes missing. These animals hadn’t been born mean. They’d been bred and tortured to be like this.
She kept going, her gaze on the door at the end.
She needed to get out and find a way to contact Vander.
A noise made her spin.
A dog trotted out of the shadows, heading straight for her. She tensed.
Its tail was wagging, and it sniffed her boots.
Brynn relaxed and held out her palm. “Hey, there.”
It looked like a Belgian Malinois, probably five or six months old. It had a black face and ears, while the fur on its lean body was tan. A quick look told her it was a male.
“You’re just a puppy.” She rubbed between its ears. “Where did you come from?”
A yipping sound made her look over. A small crate of puppies sat near the door. The mesh on it was damaged, and she guessed her friend had forced his way out.
“Hello.” Several other half-grown puppies came to the side of the crate, tails wagging. “God.” She realized these puppies were ones that were too friendly for the breeders to use as fighters. There were also a couple of tiny chihuahuas in the crate as well, huddled together and shivering.
Her blood went cold.
Bait . These animals would be used as bait and warm up for the fighting dogs.
The Belgian Malinois rubbed against her leg and whined.
“You’re trying to help your friends.” Brynn nodded. “All right. We’re all getting out of here.”
She unbolted the crate and the older puppies raced out. The two chihuahuas stayed huddled together.
“Come on,” she urged. “We have to go.”
The dogs didn’t budge.
Vander would kill her for risking her life for some dogs, especially tiny ones, but she couldn’t leave them. She dropped down and grabbed the chihuahuas.
“I’ve got you.” She stood. “Let’s move.”
The barking from the caged dogs reached deafening levels. She got to the door and shoved it open.
The puppies bolted out, except for her new friend.
“Go,” she urged, setting the chihuahuas down. The two small dogs saw freedom and ran out the door.
Almost there . That’s when she heard a shout behind her.
“There she is!”
Dammit . “Go!” she yelled at the Belgian Malinois.
He hesitated.
“Now!”
He shot out the door like a bullet.
Brynn rushed to follow, but a second later, a hand sank into her hair and yanked her backward.
The door closed with a click .
She bit back a curse. Pain seared across her scalp. She spun around and saw Cray’s thunderous face.
She lifted her foot and kicked him. With a grunt, he flew back.
But he caught himself quickly, growled, and charged at her.
He slammed into her. Brynn was trained, but Cray was bigger than her, and mean.
They whirled, and she punched him.
He rammed an elbow into her side, and pain shot through her, the air rushing out of her lungs.
He shoved her, and she hit one of the cages. The dog inside broke into vicious snarls, throwing itself at the mesh, trying to bite her.
She leaped forward.
Cray grabbed her. “You should have stayed where I put you, cop.”
“Screw you. You’re all going down for the horror show you’re running here.”
He snarled at her, then lifted her off her feet. He tossed her over his shoulder.
Shit . Brynn hung there as he turned, headed back to the warehouse. She quickly moved, sliding her arms around his neck to get him into a headlock. She pulled hard.
“ Bitch .” He spun and rammed her into another cage. She tightened her arms. He let her go suddenly, and she fell to the ground.
Then Ronny was there, dragging her up. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Cray charged in, eyes bulging and face red. He grabbed her from Ronny, then wrenched her arm behind her back.
Brynn bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Cray leaned in and sniffed her neck. Her skin crawled.
“Got business to deal with, then I’m taking you back to my place. Got a nice little trailer on a ranch in Livermore.”
Brynn stared straight ahead. She knew that Ed Baker had a ranch in Livermore. She’d guessed he was breeding more than just golden retrievers and labradors out there, like his website said.
No, he was breeding fighting dogs.
“I’m going to tie you down, like we do the breeding bitches.” Cray pressed wet lips to her neck, and she fought not to shudder. “We strap ‘em to a box so they don’t attack the males. No one will hear your screams.”
“Travis?” Ronny’s nervous voice broke the moment.
Cray stepped back.
Brynn glared at him. “You’re worthless scum. I’m going to enjoy watching you do down.”
“I’m not worthless.” He lifted a hand and slapped her.
Crap . Her head swung to the side and her eyes watered. She tasted blood in her mouth.
“Soon, we’ll get to play.” He yanked her away from the wall. “Now let’s get you tied up extra tight this time.”
She closed her eyes. Vander was on the way. She could sense it. “You’ll be dead soon.”
Cray laughed. “I’m going to teach you some respect.”
No, Cray was a dead man walking. Brynn just hoped she didn’t have to arrest her husband for murder.
Brynn spat out a mouthful of blood. Her hands were numb. Cray had made a point of tying the ropes extra tight. But at least the chair was rickety. She was hoping she could break it.
Other men had arrived, all taking orders from Cray. She heard snippets of their conversation.
There was a dogfight tonight.
These men would be providing security, and checking the guests as they arrived. She also heard them talking about prize money and bets.
Fury filled her.
For what they did to those poor dogs, and what they did to protect their dirty schemes. It had cost an innocent man his life.
Ronny stepped into view, carrying a handful of leather leashes.
“Ronny,” she whispered quietly. “I really mean it. My husband is dangerous.”
The slim man shifted nervously. “Cray’s dangerous.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And Big Ed is worse.”
She cocked her head. “Ed Baker.”
“Can’t talk to you.” Ronny shook his head. “I’m not allowed.”
“Let me go, and I can ensure you don’t get hurt. I can protect you from Cray and Baker…and my husband.”
Ronny snorted. “Your husband can’t get in here. Cray has a dozen men outside. Security for the fight is tight. Even the spectators are searched. They need to have two sponsors to even get close to the warehouse.”
“None of that will stop him. Trust me. You have to listen to me—”
Suddenly, the lights went out. They were plunged into darkness.
Her heart kicked. It was too late.
Vander was here.
“What the fuck is going on?” Cray yelled.
She heard the squawk of a radio.
“Anderson, report?” Cray paused. “Anderson?” He made an annoyed sound. “Jones? Jones? Where the fuck are the exterior guards?”
“They’re down,” Brynn said.
Cray appeared out of the gloom, his cellphone providing faint light. He shot her a vicious look. “Watch her,” he barked at Ronny, then stalked away. “Wilson, Garcia, with me.”
Their footsteps faded away.
Ronny lifted his own cellphone. He stood beside her, breathing fast, his gaze darting around.
Then she heard a distant grunt, followed by the sound of the body falling.
“What the fuck?” Cray yelled.
More noises, and someone let out a sharp scream that was quickly cut off.
“Fuck me.” Cray raced back into view, his eyes wide.
A man with a shaved head was with him, looking freaked. He held a knife in his hand. “There’s someone here, boss.”
“I know, Garcia.” Cray scanned the darkness. “Where are you, motherfucker?” Then Cray pulled a handgun from the waistband of his jeans.
Brynn sucked in a breath. His gaze fell on her, and he stepped behind her.
Shit .
He pressed the barrel to her temple. “Come out! Or I’ll kill her.”
She closed her eyes. Idiot .
There was total silence, except for the harsh breathing of her captors. She could feel their fear.
A second later, her husband stalked out of the darkness like a wraith.
Her pulse skipped a beat. A dark, dangerous, sexy wraith.
His muscular body was clad in black that matched his ink-black hair. A dangerous intensity radiated off him. His handsome face was half in shadow and set like stone.
Since they’d married, he laughed more often, but it wasn’t his usual expression.
No, this one was.
Cool, deadly, like he wanted to kill someone.
His dark gaze flicked to hers. She gave him the tiniest nod. I’m okay.
“I don’t know who you are, but you made a mistake coming here, asshole.” Cray puffed his chest up, but his voice held a nervous edge.
“No, you made a mistake when you touched my wife.” Vander’s tone was chilling.
Ronny whimpered.
“I do whatever I want,” Cray blustered.
“Not in my city, you don’t. And no one touches my wife.” Vander took a step forward.
Ronny gasped. “You’re Vander Norcross.”
Now, Cray stiffened. The gun barrel dug into her temple.
“Fuck,” Ronny whispered. “You kidnapped Vander Norcross’ wife.”
“I warned you,” she said calmly.
“Come any closer and I’ll blow her brains out,” Cray yelled.
Brynn rolled her eyes.
“Get him, Garcia,” Cray ordered.
Garcia hesitated. She didn’t blame him.
“Garcia!” Cray barked.
The man rushed at Vander, holding his knife up.
Vander moved so fast, it was all a blur. The next second, Garcia let out a pained grunt. Vander disarmed him, spun him around, and pressed the knife to the base of his skull.
“Move,” Vander said, “and I’ll slide this blade into your brain stem.”
Garcia made a panicked sound.
“Alive, Vander,” Brynn said.
His dark gaze met hers. Then he rammed the hilt of the knife into the side of Garcia’s head. The man dropped.
“Don’t move or she’s dead.” Cray swallowed. “I mean it.”
Vander looked at her again. She smiled. She trusted him in every way. She nodded. Do it.
His arm moved.
She didn’t even see the knife leave his hand. Suddenly, Cray screamed and staggered backward. His gun clattered on the concrete.
In a flash, Vander was on Cray.
Behind her, she heard the thud of fists.
“ Vander .” Brynn fought her bindings. “Don’t kill him.”
There was no response.
“Vander, I need you.”
An instant later, her husband crouched in front of her.
He quickly untied her bindings, then she was yanked off the chair and lifted into his arms.
She clung to him. He was all hard muscle, not any give in him, but he made her feel safe. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Cray.
The man was writhing on the ground, the knife buried in his eye.
“You threw a knife in his eye?”
“I didn’t kill him. I angled it down, so it wouldn’t hit his brain.”
Her husband. So considerate.
Then she felt a faint tremble in his powerful body.
She slid her hands up his tense back. “I’m fine. I knew you’d come.”
His arms tightened on her until it was hard to breathe.
“You’re not allowed to get hurt, Detective,” he growled.
She pulled back enough to touch his face. “I’m fine.”
His fingers drifted over her cheek, and his gaze darkened. “Someone hit you.”
“And you just threw a knife in his eye, so let’s call it even.”
Vander shot a dark look at the moaning Cray.
Brynn turned his head back to hers. “Hey.”
She loved him—including the darkness inside him. Vander was a warrior, a protector, and that part of him ran deep. Still in his arms, she leaned in and kissed him.
He made a rough sound, then angled his mouth on hers. He hauled her closer, kissing her with an urgency that made her stomach clench tight.
His mouth was hard and demanding, and his tongue dove into her mouth. She kissed him back, her hands tugging on his hair.
Then someone made a harsh sound.
They broke apart.
Ronny stood nearby, his face white. “You took everyone down. Alone.”
Vander’s gaze narrowed. He looked like a raptor who’d just sensed new prey.
“Vander.” Brynn wiggled and he let her down. She turned, keeping her body pressed against her husband’s, holding him back. “I suggest you go outside, Ronny. Wait for the police. You’re going to need to find new employment.”
The man’s head bobbed. “Okay. Um, okay.”
“Run and I’ll hunt you down,” Vander warned.
Ronny squeaked. “I’ll wait outside.” He tripped over his feet as he stumbled away.
“I need to call the station,” she said. “We need to get a team out here and arrest these assholes.”
Then she heard a clanging in the distance.
Against her, Vander tensed.
The sound of dogs barking—wild and excited—got louder.
Oh, hell . At the far end of the warehouse, a pack of dogs entered, and adrenaline punched through her system.
Someone had let fighting dogs loose.