The sun had set and the temperature was plummeting. Gabe pulled on a worn sweatshirt before climbing out of his car. He looked up and down the street, empty except for two cars up on blocks. The industrial area of Marysville had been hit hard by the recessions and some of the properties had been abandoned for forty years.
Abandoned. Run-down. Ignored. Perfect place to host a fight.
Pulling a crowbar and a flashlight from the trunk, Gabe eased the door shut and stole across the street, sticking to the shadows. This was the fourth building he’d searched that night and he was losing hope that the bastards were using the same spots his family had. If they were even using buildings. There was a lot of open space in Crook County, and a lot of fights were held outside in the woods. But when it turned cold, the paying audience didn’t want to freeze their butts off.
The faint tinkle of breaking glass reached Gabe’s ears, and he pulled up against the chain link between the sidewalk and the warehouse’s lot. He paused but heard nothing more. He found the two six-foot sections of fence that formed a wide gate. They were held together by a loose chain and padlock. He tugged on one of the gates, and a two-foot gap yawned open. Large enough for him to squeeze between. Much more welcoming than the razor wire he’d had to navigate over earlier.
The square yard was nothing but broken cement and dead weeds. Gabe crossed to the front door of the warehouse and shined his light on the lock. He frowned. The rest of the building looked derelict, but the door had two new deadbolts, the metal still shiny and unscratched. He circled to the back. Same deal. Brand-new locks.
He shined his light along the frame and smiled grimly. His recollection was right. Whichever idiot had installed the door years ago had done it backwards, with the hinges on the outside. As a teen, he’d spent a lot of time out behind the places where his dad was running fights. Not wanting to see the scared or aggressive dogs. The blood. The cheering crowd. Always staring at the doors, wishing he were brave enough to confront his dad and stop the horror happening within. He’d spent enough time outside this particular door to notice the installation error. And no one had ever fixed it.
Wedging the end of his crowbar under the tip of the pin, he hammered at it, grimacing at every echoing clank of metal striking metal. He pounded harder, and the upper pin popped free. The lower one was harder to get a good angle on, and he was sweating by the time he could pull it loose.
He heard a noise behind him and spun, chest heaving, but saw nothing. A hint of sandal and cedar teased his nose, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled. He knew that perfume. He shone his light around the lot but it was empty. His mind was playing tricks on him. Marla wouldn’t be here, not in this grimy, impoverished neighborhood. But he couldn’t escape thoughts of her. A guilty conscience? He huffed and turned back to the door, pulling it open by its hinges.
He didn’t feel guilty. Marla was tough; she could take care of herself. Besides, he’d only told her the truth. She’d bounced back from his rejection just fine, and she’d get over their latest conversation, too.
Gabe rubbed his chest. He shouldn’t have tasted her. He kicked himself for the millionth time. But her hands had been on him, her perfume had been messing with his head, and there had been a beautiful woman telling him that she wanted him. Add to that the fact that it had been months since he’d last had sex, and to his mind, he deserved a damn medal for only putting his lips on her.
He tugged the door as wide as it would go. He needed to get out and pick up a woman. That used to be a weekly occupation. Why the hell had he stopped going out? After he sorted out this fight mess, he’d jump back into old habits. Let another woman drive the spoiled socialite from his mind.
His breath hitched. It would be for the best.
He gave one last look around outside. All was quiet and dark. He angled his body through the opening and shone his light into the pitch black of the building. The rear entrance was off a small storage room, and a couple of bags of dog food were stacked in the corner. A rat scuttled from the beam of his light back into the shadows.
The air held a hush, a weight, and Gabe knew he wasn’t alone.
Gritting his back teeth, he prowled through the room and down a short hall, the odor of dog and fear growing stronger with each step. There was no door to the main warehouse, only an empty entryway, and Gabe stepped through, anger squeezing his guts. Eight cages were lined up in a row, eight pairs of eyes gazing up at him with varying degrees of terror and despair. One small dog whined and thumped his tail against the metal bars.
Gabe sucked in a breath, trying to control his rage. Here was proof at last that someone was running fights in his town. He’d hoped that he’d been wrong. Sweeping the flashlight around the large room, Gabe guessed that the fights weren’t fully organized yet. Usually handlers would keep the dogs at their own homes until the night of the fight. But if it was just one or two guys, and they didn’t have the space…. He knelt by the cages and said a few soothing words.
The cement floor was almost empty except for the eight dogs and a pile of green boxes stacked in an alcove by the hallway. In his father’s day, this warehouse had been packed with at least thirty cages on fight night. Fresh stock was always needed. He stood and blew out a breath. If the new ring was starting to use the old haunts, Gabe had that much better a chance of catching the bastards.
Someone gasped behind him, and Gabe spun, raising the flashlight over his head, ready to attack.
“Gabe!” Marla cried out.
He pinched his lips together and lowered his arm. What the fu—
Two paws smacked into his chest, and he fell back a step. A snarl sounded inches from his face.
Gabe froze and tried to relax his muscles. It was difficult when there was a pissed off dog ready to tear out his throat. Even a poodle could do damage. “It’s all right, girl,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. Or her.” Not yet anyway. Not until he found out what in the hell Marla was doing there.
He lifted his hand to the dog’s shoulder and stroked upward to grab hold of her collar. Gently, he pulled the poodle off him and lowered her to the ground. He kept his hand near her neck and tried to coax her to sit.
“It’s okay, Maddie.” Marla crouched next to him and stroked her dog’s back. “We just surprised him.”
“You could say that again.” He kept his voice as pleasant as possible. “Any particular reason you’re coming in the back of a warehouse used for dog fights?”
Her fingers brushed over his hand, the soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. “Is that what this is?” A light shined on the ground, the flashlight app from her cell phone. She directed it at the cages. “Oh my God. These poor babies.”
Maddie pulled away and trotted over to the other dogs. She pawed at the cages and ran up and down the line, sticking her nose between the bars in greeting.
Gabe stood and took Marla under the elbow, pulling her up with him. “That doesn’t answer my question. How the hell did you get here?”
“Hmm?” She patted his hand, then went after her dog. “Oh, I followed you.”
He gaped. “You what?”
“Only two of these dogs have water bowls in their cages, and both of those are empty!” Marla turned the flashlight to scan the warehouse. “We need to get them water and food.”
“And medical attention, which we will.” Gabe quickly assessed the animals. No visible wounds. They looked underfed and cold, however. He faced Marla. “Answer my question.”
“Which question?”
Gabe gripped the back of his neck. He needed to resist the temptation to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
“Oh. That.” Kneeling next to Maddie, she stuck her fingers in a cage and scratched a dog’s leg. The dog licked her finger, and Marla opened the cage’s latch and lifted out the small animal, cuddling it to her chest. “I followed you. I want t
o help stop the dog fights, too.”
“How…?” Gabe shook his head. He didn’t quite know how to process that. The idea of Marla tailing him in her Jag was so absurd he could hardly believe it. But the proof was kneeling before him, cooing at the mangiest looking dog he’d ever seen. And then the anger built.
“Of all the half-assed, idiotic—”
She sighed. “I can assure you, when I put my mind to something, I go in full-assed.” Her smile was half-hidden in shadow. “And the one thing I’m not is an idiot. I do have two master’s degrees, and for one of the master’s I almost obtained a PhD. But I could never finish those last thirty pages of my dissertation on the constructed Elvish languages of Tolkien.”
“Construct—” Gabe threw his hand out, the beam from the flashlight bouncing wildly. “I don’t care if you have a PhD in criminal psychology. Following me onto the property of a dogfighter is the opposite of smart.” Which perhaps didn’t show his actions in the brightest light, either. But at least he had a crowbar. He could defend himself. “How did you follow me?” He should have noticed a car tailing him, especially that cherry red Jaguar. “You would have had to stick close to keep me in sight, but there wasn’t anyone behind me.”
She stood and held up what he could see now was a Mexican hairless. She peppered its face with kisses. “I installed a tracking device from my dad on your Vellie.”
A heavy ball landed in his stomach. Oh. Shit. The money Marla tossed around like confetti. The Russian last name. “Your dad’s in the mafia.”
“Oh my God.” She stalked up to him, tucking the dog under her arm like a football. “I was being facetious. I followed you without the aid of technology. You’re just not as observant as you think.” She huffed out a breath. “Russian mafia.”
Heat crawled up his neck, and Gabe was glad of the dark. Maybe that had been a leap in logic, and a slightly bigoted one at that. But he could have sworn there were no headlights—
The front door rattled, and one of the bolts scraped open. Gabe flicked off his flashlight and whipped around. “Turn off your light.”
“What was that?” Marla flicked off her phone. “Is someone coming in?”
One of the caged dogs whimpered. Maddie growled.
“Go back out the way you came.” Gabe stepped forward, turning to the front door. He fisted the metal handle of the flashlight and tested its heft. The second bolt slid back.
“But—”
“Go!” He growled softly, looking over his shoulder but only seeing the vaguest outline of her tall form. She couldn’t be here when whoever was on the other side of the door came through. These men were dangerous. If they found someone messing with their dogs…
The front door squealed open and all of Gabe’s muscles tensed. He faced the threat, heartbeat racing. He was going to enjoy getting his hands on the bastards. Movement sounded behind him. For once, Marla was following his instruction. He could focus all his attention on the person responsible for hurting these dogs.
A figure was backlit by the faint glow from the streetlights outside. Gabe rocked onto the balls of his feet.
Something crunched, Marla shrieked, and an avalanche of boxes tumbled to the ground behind him.
Gabe sprinted to Marla, his throat closing. Had someone come in the back? Grabbed her? His thumb fumbled, searching for the button to turn on his flashlight. God damn it. He smacked the flashlight into his palm. “Marla?” he hoarsely whispered. Where was the motherfu—
The flashlight blinked on. He swung the beam back and forth, looking for a second attacker. His pulse slowed from a gallop to a trot. No one was there. Just Marla and the dogs. She’d made that noise all on her own.
He whipped his head back to the front.
The figure in the doorway fled.
* * * *
Marla held the struggling dog to her chest. She rolled to her side and hit a barrier. She twisted the other way, and something dug into her hip. What had she fallen over? Shoe boxes? Cardboard and something else crunched. She kicked out at the pile of whatever was heaped about her.
Gabe cursed, low and steady. He aimed his flashlight at her face, blinding her. “Could you possibly make any more noise? The bastard is getting away.”
Throwing up a hand to block the light, Marla frowned. She got to one knee, slid on another box, and landed on her side. “Well, go after him!” These damn boxes were like quicksand. Maybe if she rocked on her back she’d be able to roll onto her feet? The dog in her arms squirmed, and she adjusted her grip.
Maddie picked her way over to Marla and gave her an encouraging nudge on the arm with her nose. Marla sat up in a cross-legged position, and something burst beneath her thigh. “What the hell am I sitting in?”
Gabe swept the light over the ground. “Ranger Scout Cookies? Of all the empty square footage in this warehouse, you managed to trip over the one stack of boxes.”
Maddie licked at a burst package.
Bending over, Gabe reached down for Marla’s arm and hauled her up. She stumbled into his chest. “You okay?” he asked.
Her hip and butt were a tad sore, but her front had no complaints. She pressed closer, his heat warming her up in the cold warehouse. The sound of a car engine sputtering to life distracted her from the pleasant tingles Gabe’s proximity produced.
“Come on.” She placed the small dog back in his cage and told Maddie to stay. “He’s getting away.”
“He’s already…” Gabe’s voice trailed off as Marla sprinted for the front door. The gate to the chain link fence stood open, and she hit the street in mere seconds.
Gabe drew up by her side. He pointed down the street at the fading taillights. “See. He’s gone.”
“Do you have your keys?”
“It’s too late. I wouldn’t be able to get to my car in time to keep him in sight.”
Always the pessimist. Rocking up onto her toes, Marla narrowed her eyes and analyzed the patterns of red light. “Damn. He’s driving a Toyota Camry. There are probably a thousand of those in Crook County alone.” She turned to retrace her steps.
“There’s no way you could have possibly seen that it was a Camry.” The toe of Gabe’s shoe caught her heel, and she stumbled. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her. “The car was too far away to distinguish anything.”
Marla stalked back into the dark warehouse and waited for Gabe to turn on his light. Damn. They had been so close to catching the creep. “Not true. I could make out the shape of the brake lights quite distinctly. How do you think I kept you in sight?”
He swung the light in her face, and she flinched. He lowered the beam to her chest. “Sorry. But there is no way you could tell the make and model of a car by the brake lights.”
“Are you certain of that?” Without waiting for an answer, she found her way back to the pile of packages and dropped to her knees. Maddie panted in her ear, and Marla gave her a good chest rub before digging through the cookie boxes. She found her phone in a pile of crumbs. “Do I call 9-1-1 or the local police?”
“You’re calling the cops?”
Tilting her head, Marla wished she could make out his expression. He’d sounded defensive. Guilty even. But that couldn’t be right. “That was my intention. Dog fighting is a crime and this building appears to be evidence of it. I wonder who owns it.”
“It won’t be the owner.” Finding a window ledge, he placed his flashlight inside, and a wide swath of warehouse was illuminated. “These people find abandoned buildings and use them without the owner’s knowledge. It would be too risky to use your own property.”
That sounded like an observation made from personal experience, and Marla’s curiosity piqued. She pursed her lips. “Well, the guy is long gone by now. It doesn’t seem like an emergency situation. I’ll call the local police?”
Gabe’s nostrils flared. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll call Dax to bring
the shelter’s van. We’ll transport the dogs there tonight.”
Marla nodded, and they made their calls. The police arrived first, in a swirl of blue and red lights. The three Marysville police officers took their statements, and one pulled a professional looking camera from his trunk to take pictures of the dogs in their cages. A third squad car pulled up, and Marla recognized the man who emerged. He shook hands with the other cops.
Marla walked over to greet him. “Hi, Jerome. We aren’t in Pineville, so I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jerome ran a hand over his dark, close-cropped curls and gave her a tired smile. “Marla. I think you stole my line. What the heck are you doing snooping around in an abandoned warehouse? This isn’t one of your properties, is it?” He turned and they walked together into the building. He nodded at the cop taking pictures.
“Thankfully, no. I was…” She drummed her fingers on her thigh. Tailing Gabe didn’t sound like something a grown woman should be doing. Or something she’d want to admit to the police. “Um, I met Gabe here. We’re trying to find out who’s running dog fights in the area.”
Jerome’s smile dimmed. “Gabriel Moretti?”
“Yep.” Gabe’s deep voice behind her startled Marla, and Gabe rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The cops had turned the overhead lights on, but she still hadn’t seen him coming.
Jerome gave Gabe a look that Marla couldn’t interpret, and Gabe’s hand tightened. She could practically feel the tension from Gabe’s body radiating into her back.
“Care to tell me what you were doing at this particular warehouse?” Jerome asked.
“Is this an official interrogation? As Marla pointed out, you are a bit out of your jurisdiction.” He bobbed his head at the cop packing up his camera. “I gave my statement to Marysville PD.”
“Gabe.” She tried to put a warning in her voice. Annoying a cop was never a good idea. She reached behind her and grabbed a handful of Gabe’s sweatshirt. His stomach twitched beneath the backs of her fingers. “Jerome didn’t mean anything by it. But he needs to know what we’re doing here.”
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