Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“ C ome on.” Vander took Brynn’s hand and broke into a jog.
The sounds of the dogs increased. Barks and excited, eager yips.
Predators on the hunt.
Fuck .
He knew fighting dogs were bred for aggression. Bred to fight and kill. Bred to keep fighting after suffering hours of abuse.
The door was too far away. They wouldn’t make it. He scanned around and then looked up. The warehouse had exposed wooden rafters.
He changed course.
“Vander?” Brynn glanced back, her fingers squeezing on his.
“Trust me?”
“You know I do.” She met his gaze.
There was no hesitation. Brynn’s trust and love still floored him.
He saw some crates and boxes stacked against the far wall. He ran over and leaped up. Brynn scrambled up behind him.
He gripped the closest rafter and pulled himself up. He reached down, and Brynn grabbed his hand.
Dogs came into view, barking wildly. He hauled her up beside him on the wooden beam.
The pack of dogs swarmed below, fangs bared. There were muscular rottweilers, pit bulls, and Staffordshire bull terriers, all of them frothing at the mouth.
“Poor things,” Brynn murmured.
His wife had a soft, compassionate heart. It was what made her a good cop. He wrapped his arm around her.
“They’ve been horribly mistreated.” Her gaze hardened. “Forced to fight to survive. Turned into monsters.” She shook her head. “The breeder, Ed Baker, is going down.”
Vander’s jaw tightened. He had no doubt this Baker had a lucrative gig going on.
And he was willing to kill to protect it.
Vander suspected he knew who’d let the dogs out.
“Come on. We need to move.”
If Baker was here, Vander wanted his wife far away from the man.
They carefully walked along the rafters, the dogs following down below. They reached the other side of the warehouse, and he saw an exit door. There were also doors leading into several rooms he guessed were for storage. There were more boxes and crates stacked haphazardly.
Vander pulled out his handgun. “I’ll scare the dogs off. You get outside.”
She gripped the front of his shirt. “And you’ll be right behind me?”
“That’s the plan.” He cupped her jaw. “Always. My spot is right beside you for the rest of our lives, Brynn.”
She smiled at him, and he felt it in his gut. Whenever Brynn smiled, or told him that she loved him, he felt it deep.
After the military, he’d come home numb. He didn’t regret the hard things he’d done to protect his country. Jobs he’d done so his family and friends, the people he loved, never had to. So they’d sleep peacefully in their beds every night.
But a tough, stubborn detective had barged into his life and turned it upside down. She’d woken him up, and brought him back to life.
He’d been happy in the dark, but Brynn had dragged him out of it.
He tightened his grip on his Glock. Most of the time he lived in the light, but right now, he needed the darkness to keep her safe.
He fired at the concrete floor.
The dogs yelped and pulled back.
Brynn dropped down, landing with a bend of her knees. She rushed to the door and grabbed the handle.
As she yanked, Vander fired again. One big pit bull snarled.
“It’s locked,” she cried. “It won’t open.”
Shit . A muscle in his jaw flexed. He couldn’t hold the dogs off much longer.
From somewhere, he heard the screech of a door.
“Get into one of the storage rooms.” He fired again.
Brynn raced for one of the open storage rooms. Vander stepped off the rafter, landed in a crouch, and fired again.
Then he sprinted after his wife.
With wild yelps, the dogs rushed after him.
Wide-eyed, Brynn held the door open.
He slid through and whirled. Together, they slammed it closed.
Just in time.
As the dogs threw their powerful bodies at the door, it vibrated.
Sucking in air, Brynn stepped back. “Jesus, that was close.”
Vander flicked on his flashlight and waved it around the room. It was jam-packed with boxes. Brynn walked to the closest one and opened it. Then she frowned.
“It’s medication.”
He glanced inside the box. “Steroids and hormones.” His mouth flattened. “They inject the dogs with them to increase their muscle mass and aggressiveness.”
Her hands balled into fists. “I’m putting them all behind bars. Whatever it takes.”
He loved her fierce tone. He ran his hand down her ponytail. It was too dark to see all the different shades of brown and caramel he loved so much. “I’ll help you.”
She reached up and touched his jaw. “I know you will.”
As much as he wanted to kiss her, they needed to get out of there. He looked up and saw a few dirty windows. “That’s our way out.”
With a nod, Brynn shoved a box over. “We can stack some of these to help us reach.”
Vander moved a few boxes, then heard her curse.
“This box is almost empty.”
He saw the sorrow and anger on her face as she realized where those drugs had gone.
Suddenly, he realized the barking dogs had gone silent.
He turned to look at the door.
And heard the deep rumble of voices.
“Hide. Now .”
“In the empty box.” She threw her leg over and climbed inside. “It’ll be tight squeeze, but we should fit.”
Vander climbed in and they maneuvered so she was straddling him, pressed in close. He closed the box and flicked off his flashlight, trapping them in the dark.
Brynn pressed her face to his, sliding her hands around his shoulders.
He had his wife—the sexiest woman he’d ever known—curled around him, sitting on his hardening cock. He swallowed a groan. He’d never had control issues before Brynn.
She shifted a little, and he gripped her hip, squeezed. “I really don’t need a hard on right now.”
Her lips brushed his ear. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Behave, Mrs. Norcross.”
Her quiet laugh and the tiny nip she gave his ear made him harder.
Then they heard the door open, and they both froze.
There were footsteps and a flashlight waving around. The glimmer of light seeped through the joins of the box.
“No one in here,” a voice said.
A second later, the door slammed closed.
Brynn let out a breath. “How about we get out of here?”
He gave her ass a quick squeeze. “I’ve been in worse places.”
She nipped his bottom lip, then rose.
They quickly finished stacking boxes to reach the windows. He climbed up and shoved the window. It opened with a screech of metal.
Hell . “Move fast, Detective.”
She scrambled up beside him. “Fast is my middle name.” She gripped the edge of the window. “But I like it slow sometimes, too.”
Vander bit back a laugh. “Out the window. I’ll be right behind you.”
She climbed out, dropping to the ground below. He followed her.
“Come on.” They were in an alley between warehouses. Taking her hand, he strode down the cracked pavement. “My vehicle is a few blocks away.”
They hadn’t gone far when he heard the dogs again.
“Oh, no.” Her head whipped up.
The animals were outside . Someone had let them out of the warehouse.
“Run,” he ordered.
They sprinted down the alley. Vander glanced over his shoulder and saw a pack of dogs round the corner of the warehouse at the far end of the alley. There was loping toward him and Brynn.
They weren’t going to make it.
“Brynn, over there.” He pointed at a metal fire escape on the adjacent two-story warehouse.
Without question, his wife ran, jumped into the air, and caught the metal. She pulled herself up.
Vander followed. He leaped, his fingers closing around cool metal. A moment later, the dogs arrived barking loudly.
A few tried to jump, aiming for his feet, but he was too high. He pulled himself onto the stairs.
“Onto the roof,” he said.
She nodded, and together they climbed up toward the roof.
“I’m going to enjoy slapping cuffs on Ed Baker,” she said fiercely.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you do it.” And behind the scenes, Vander would ensure Baker’s operation was dismantled, and anyone involved in it paid.
Once they reached the roof of the warehouse, Vander gave into the burning need inside him.
He grabbed his wife and kissed her. Hard.
She clung to him, moaned, and bit his bottom lip. He gripped her ass, and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“You’re all right,” he said.
“I’m all right.” She pressed her forehead against his. “I can’t wait to get home.” She pressed into him, rubbing against his growing erection.
With great difficulty, he locked down his reaction. First, he had to get her out of there alive.
He dropped one last kiss to her mouth, then set her down. “Hold that thought.” Taking her hand, he pulled her across the roof.
On the other side of the warehouse, he crouched, studying the alley below. It was empty.
He scanned again, something tickling at his senses.
“There’s no one there,” Brynn said. “We have to hurry.”
With a nod, he helped her onto the fire escape, and they hurried down.
Brynn dropped to the ground first. Vander gripped the metal, readying to jump.
Then he heard the scrape of a boot, followed by a low growl.
He froze, fingers clenching on the metal . Someone was in the alley.
Brynn was exposed.
Even though he wanted to follow her, he made himself sink back into the shadows of the fire escape.
He knew better than anyone that the best results came once you understood the situation and assessed the threats.
“So, you’re the cop who’s caused me all this trouble.”
An older man appeared, with another younger flunky one step behind him, holding the leash of a large pit bull. The muscular animal strained against the chain around its neck. It growled. Its gaze locked on Brynn.
The older man crossed his arms. He wasn’t tall, but he had broad shoulders and a barrel chest, with the hint of a gut. His flannel shirt strained over his stomach and was tucked into his jeans.
“You’re Ed Baker.” Disdain dripped from Brynn’s voice.
“Yes, ma’am.” Baker smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “And you’re a dead woman. Unfortunately, your cop friends are going to find your body floating in the Bay, just like Tom Moore.”
Vander saw red, his hands balling into fists.
No one threatened his wife.
Adrenaline pumped through Brynn.
Baker was a dead man.
She knew Vander was in the shadows above. A hunter waiting to take down his prey.
“You killed Tom Moore,” she said.
Baker laughed. “That sniveling idiot got squeamish when he saw what my business involved. He thought there was money to be made selling puppies to happy families.” Baker scoffed. “That’s not where the real money is.”
“Dog fights.” She glared at him. “Breeding aggressive animals and torturing them for blood sport.”
As if to emphasize the point, the pit bull snarled, its chain rattling. The man holding the leash strained to hold it.
“Dog fighting dates back to Roman times. It has a very long and illustrious history.” Baker smiled. “Plus, it’s a lucrative business that has made me very rich. Sometimes bets run into the hundreds of thousands for a single fight.”
“You’re just a criminal and a murderer. And I’ll be putting you in a cell.”
Baker’s laugh echoed in the alley. “Morris, let the dog off.”
She tensed. Shit .
Baker’s thug unclipped the pit bull and Brynn braced.
Suddenly, a small shadow raced down the alley.
The Belgian Malinois puppy leaped in front of her and growled.
Oh, God . The pup wasn’t small, but he looked tiny compared to the muscular pit bull.
“Get back,” she cried. “Go!”
Baker guffawed. “This young runt won’t last a second against Hannibal.”
The pit bull charged, and the pup leaped to meet it.
Then, a long, lean shadow dropped from the fire escape, landing in a crouch.
Her chest squeezed. Vander straightened, his face set in harsh lines.
Baker’s eyes widened. “Vander Norcross.”
Vander spared the snarling dogs a glance before he focused on Baker. “You took my wife. Threatened her.”
“Wife?” The breeder’s eyes widened.
Vander attacked.
It was quick and brutal. Vander grabbed Baker’s head and yanked it down. He brought his knee up.
Baker let out a grunt. Vander landed several hard punches in quick succession to Baker’s gut, then swung the man around. Vander slammed him into the side of the warehouse.
“Help…me,” Baker screeched.
His thug looked on, paralyzed. He took an uncertain step forward.
“No, you don’t.” Brynn ran and landed a hard front kick to the man’s gut. He doubled over, swinging one arm sloppily. She leaped up, swung her leg around him, then dropped onto the dirty ground, landing on top of him with a knee to his chest.
He landed hard, winded.
“Here.” Vander tossed her some zip ties.
She flipped the man over and quickly secured him.
As she straightened, she saw Vander land a hard punch into Baker’s face. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes, blood pouring down his chin.
Roughly, Vander turned Baker onto his stomach and zip tied his ankles and wrists.
“How’s it feel?” Vander gritted out. “To be trussed up like one of your dogs? Soon, you’ll be locked in a cage like one of them, too.”
Baker let out a gurgle.
“Come near my wife again, and there will be no cage. No one will ever find you.”
Brynn loved the man, but that low, scary tone made her shiver. And left her a little turned on.
Nearby, the dogs were still fighting.
Oh, no. She pressed her hands together. There was blood. A lot of blood. She swallowed. The pup was smaller, but it wasn’t giving up.
“Vander, we have to save him. And please try not to kill the pit bull either.”
“It’s an aggressive killer.” He ran a hand down her hair, like he was reassuring himself that she was all right. “It’ll be put down.”
“I know…but it’s been tortured. It’s not its fault.”
Vander sighed, then crouched down and grabbed the discarded chain. He swung it, and snapped it at the dogs. They leaped apart, snarling. Then Vander darted in. The pit bull whirled and growled at him.
“Hey!” Brynn yelled. She had no desire to see her husband get mauled.
It spun to face her, and Vander lunged. He clipped the chain to the pit bull’s collar, narrowly avoiding getting bitten.
The dog barked and yanked, but Vander jerked the chain. He dragged the dog over toward a nearby dumpster, and fastened the chain to it.
Brynn approached the pup. The poor guy looked a little dazed, and was covered in sweat and blood.
“Hey, boy.” Brynn spoke in a low, calm voice. “You protected me.”
It sat, its chest heaving.
Vander stepped up beside her. “It a young Belgian Malinois. We used the breed in the military. They make good guard dogs.”
“I freed him and some other pups earlier,” she said, carefully stroking the dog’s head.
She glanced at Vander and caught him rolling his eyes to the night sky.
“Of course, you stopped to free some dogs while you were abducted.” His tone was dry.
She ignored him. “There’s so much blood, Vander.”
Her husband crouched and checked the dog over. The pup tried to lick his face.
“He’s scratched up, but luckily, most of them aren’t too deep. I think he’ll be all right.”
She let out a breath. “Good.”
Then Vander rose, and yanked her to his chest. His mouth crashed down on hers.
Brynn leaned into the kiss. It was a little desperate, a little wild. The taste of him filled her. She felt the force of his love, and as she often did, marveled that she had this magnificent man in her life.
His fingers flexed on her. “I warned you to never get hurt.”
She sank her hands into his black hair. “I’m not hurt.”
“You’re not allowed to get kidnapped, either.”
“I knew my gorgeous, dangerous husband would find me.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Always, Mrs. Norcross. Always.”
He kissed her again. When they finally came up for air, he pulled out his cellphone and handed it to her. “I’m guessing you want to call in the troops.”
She shot him a smile, then quickly dialed the station.
“Brynn?” It was her cousin. Detective Hunt Morgan. “Are you okay? Soto told me you were missing.”
“Yes. Vander found me.”
Hunt paused. “Are any of the bad guys still alive?”
“Yes,” she said dryly. “Turns out Ed Baker is the head of the dog fighting ring, and had Tom Moore murdered. We need a team to raid his ranch out in Livermore. He’s breeding fighting dogs out there.”
Hunt cursed. “On it. And a team is already enroute to you.”
“Thanks, and Hunt, we’ll need animal control for the dogs.” She cleared her throat. “And paramedics. Vander left everyone alive, but most of them are bleeding and can’t walk.”
Hunt made a sound. “Understood.”
“See you soon.”
“Good work, Brynn.”
She handed the phone back to her husband. “They’re on the way.” She leaned into him.
The puppy came over and sat on Vander’s boot. He frowned at the dog.
Brynn hid a smile and cleared her throat. “You know, a pet might be nice.”
“What?” He scowled. “You work, I work, and we live in a warehouse loft. That’s not place for a pet, especially a dog.”
“Vander, you live where you work.” She patted the dog’s head, and it shot her an adoring look. “He could go to work with you.”
“No.”
“He could be the Norcross Security mascot. He’d be perfect.”
“No.”
She arched a brow. “I guess you’ll tell me that a pet is a complication? A tangle you don’t need?” Once, he’d used that excuse about them getting involved. “I thought you’d learned that some complications are worth it.”
A muscle ticked beside his mouth. “We aren’t getting a dog.”
“But—”
Vander stopped her from talking by kissing her. They were still kissing when the police cars pulled in.