“I sent around a watch report to the other departments in Crook County. The police forces of Marysville and Clarion Township agreed to notify me if they got a call about fights.” Jerome crossed his arms over his chest, his posture easy despite the tightness in his shoulders. “So, now we’re all clear on what I’m doing here. I hope I’m wrong about why you’re here.”
Marla fisted the soft cotton and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think I like what you’re implying. Gabe is out here because he wants to put a stop to any mistreatment of dogs. He’s trying to help.”
Gabe stepped closer, trapping her hand between her back and his stomach. He rested his other hand at her hip. “I don’t need you to defend me, Marla,” he said softly.
He didn’t need it. Marla knew the man at her back was more than capable of taking care of himself. But the slight hesitation in his voice, as if he was surprised anyone would bother to speak up for him, gutted her. He might not need her loyalty, but he deserved it. He’d go to the mat for these dogs in the warehouse. And no one would get away with implying otherwise while she was around. Not even a cop.
“I’ll keep my implications to myself. For now,” Jerome said. “But I will need to know what you’re doing here. It’s a bit hard to believe you were just driving around looking for a fight and happened across a warehouse full of dogs. I don’t believe in coincidence. And searching for criminals on your own is just asinine.”
Marla straightened. “Well, I guess I’m as big an ass as Gabe, because I was out here searching, too.”
Gabe gripped her shoulders and moved her to the side. He angled his body between her and Jerome. “Marla just came along for the ride. And I searched locations I thought would be likely spots. Abandoned. Spacious. No close neighbors. I got lucky.”
The two men stared at each other, and Marla knew she was missing something. She pressed her lips into a flat line.
“I want to take the dogs to the shelter and check them out. Can we go?” Gabe asked.
“Do you know who’s running the fights?” Jerome hooked this thumbs in his utility belt.
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who might? Someone I should talk to?”
“No.”
“Want to tell me how you got that shiner?”
Gabe turned his head and stared at Marla. “Car accident.”
Jerome exhaled loudly. He nodded at Dax as he ambled past, heading for the cages.
“I don’t suppose you brought the cookies to munch on while snooping around warehouses?” Jerome asked.
“Thirty boxes?” Gabe shook his head.
“Well, the guy wasn’t feeding them to the dogs. They’re pretty scrawny looking. Wouldn’t last long in a fight,” Jerome said.
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “These aren’t the prizefighters. They’re warm-up dogs, or bait dogs. The dogs people bet on will probably be housed better.”
Dax strolled up. “Can I start loading them into the van? It’s going to be a late night.”
Jerome nodded. “I’ll be by the shelter later to take pictures of any wounds or scars.” He turned to Gabe. “There’s nothing else you can tell me?”
Gabe shook his head, but Marla piped up. “The guy who had keys to the door was driving a Toyota Camry.”
“Here we go,” Gabe muttered.
She ignored that and lifted her chin. “I could tell based on the shape and color of the taillights.”
Jerome jotted down a note in a small notepad. He arched a dark brow. “Well, I guess if anyone would know that it’d be you. Thanks. But I’d like to suggest you stop searching abandoned properties. Not only is it illegal and the property owner would be within his full rights to press charges, but it isn’t safe. These guys aren’t good people. I wouldn’t want to see you get caught up with the wrong crowd.” He pinned Gabe with a look, nodded to Marla, and rejoined the other cops.
Marla turned to Gabe. “What on earth was that all about?”
Gabe grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “Never mind. Get Maddie and go. I’ll take care of the other dogs.”
She nodded. Her stomach twisted with the not-knowing, but she wanted to get out of this depressing warehouse, too. They’d saved eight dogs, but until they found the person behind the fights, the dogs in Crook County weren’t safe.
She patted her thigh. Maddie left her sentry post by the caged dogs and trotted over. She whined softly, and Marla bent over her. “I know, girl.” She’d never seen a group of more miserable dogs, and it tore at her heart to think of the abuses they’d suffered. “Why did Jerome think you’d know something about the fight organizers?” she asked Gabe.
“Later.” Gabe opened up a cage and eased a spaniel out. He smoothed his hands down the dog’s flanks, then handed the animal to Dax.
“What do you think the cookies mean? It’s very—”
“Later.” The tension was thick in Gabe’s voice, and Marla relented. For now.
“All right. We’ll talk later.” Spinning on her heel, Marla gave one last look to the dogs and followed Dax out of the warehouse. He was settling the spaniel into a cage in the back of the Forever Friends van when she and Maddie walked by. She went past Gabe’s Vellie, turned a corner onto a side street and made for her car. Maddie hopped in the passenger seat, and Marla settled behind the wheel.
Twenty minutes later she was parked in front of the shelter and knocking on the door.
Brad opened it. “Marla, what are you doing here?”
“I was with Gabe when he found the dogs tonight. He didn’t want to continue our conversation in the warehouse.” She followed Brad into the shelter and let Maddie in to the playroom. “I assume he and Dax will be here shortly.”
“Yeah.” Brad ran a hand through his blond hair. He trudged down the hall to his office and waved her in. “Eight dogs. Did you see what sort of shape they were in?”
“I didn’t see any open wounds, but they didn’t look good.” She dropped into a chair in front of Brad’s desk. “I just don’t understand why anyone would do this.”
“People are a mystery.” Walking to his small coffeemaker, he held up the half-full pot. Marla nodded and he poured them both a cup. “You never think it can be your neighbors or friends who would do something like this,” he continued. “Especially not in our nice, small community. But there are bad seeds everywhere.”
Gnawing on her bottom lip, Marla tapped her fingers against the mug and studied Brad. He was Gabe’s closest friend. They worked together. If anyone would know the mysteries surrounding Gabe, he would.
She measured her words. “Jerome Davis implied that Gabe might be one of those bad seeds.” She took a sip of coffee and winced. She’d have to upgrade Brad from the drip coffeemaker.
“I’m sure if Jerome knew Gabe a little better, he wouldn’t think that. Gabe would never hurt an animal.”
That Marla believed. People he had no qualms about insulting. But the care he showed animals tugged at her heart. “But why would Jerome think that at all? Just because Gabe knew the right warehouse to search?”
Brad put his mug down on the edge of his desk and sighed. “You’ll have to ask Gabe. All I can do is repeat that he’d never hurt an animal. He wants these bastards found more than anyone.”
The back doors to the shelter squeaked open. A dog yipped, and Gabe’s soothing rumble followed.
“Speak of the devil,” Brad said. “Let’s go see who he brought in.”
Gabe gave her a squinty-eyed glare when they walked into the infirmary but soon ignored both Marla and Brad as he focused on his patients. Dax brought the remaining dogs in and helped Gabe bathe them.
In the bright light, Marla could see that the condition of the animals was worse than she’d thought. She still didn’t see any open wounds, but their fur was matted and missing in patches and most were too thin. She swallowed when Gabe tri
mmed the whiskers around the face of the little dog she’d held. Little tufts of dark hair shot out from behind his ears and at his tail, and in random little patches over his otherwise hairless body. His skin was mostly brown. A white strip ran from his forehead down to his nose. Blotches of pink skin covered his legs and chest, almost as though he’d been splashed with acid. Half of his nostril looked like it had been chewed right off and his red tongue stuck out the side of his mouth.
Her chest felt as tight as a stretched-out rubber band. He truly was the ugliest, dearest little dog she’d ever seen.
“Is he all right?” She slowly approached and held up her hand for the dog to sniff. He licked it.
“Yes.” Gabe looked in his ears with a penlight. His large hands spanned most of the dog’s body. “No broken bones. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain currently. Just needs some food, rest, and good people to love him.”
“What everyone needs.” Marla sank down to the dog’s eye level, and he pawed the air by her face.
Gabe grunted. “Well, what every animal needs at least.”
Rising, Marla squared her shoulders and looked Gabe right in the eye. He wasn’t involved in fighting dogs, but he did know more than he was letting on. “How did you choose the warehouses to search? You hit on your fourth attempt. It couldn’t have been random.”
“Investigating me now?” He smiled grimly. “I don’t think you’d like the answers. They wouldn’t fit in your pretty little world view.”
“You make an awful lot of assumptions about my world.” She cocked her head. “And you didn’t answer. It’s a fair question. And as I was caught in the warehouse with you, I think I deserve an answer.”
“Deserve?” His voice went all growly. Something was seriously wrong with her that his angry voice made her go all quivery inside.
Dax cleared his throat. “I don’t think you need my help anymore. I’ll just…” He shot Brad a hopeful look.
“Yeeaah.” Brad began walking backwards out of the room. “Dax and I have to go…we have to go.” And the cowards escaped.
Gabe paced toward her. “Listen up, Buttercup. You followed me, without my knowledge or consent. You deserve nothing, except maybe a sound thrashing.” He cornered her against the table, and Marla clasped the metal edge. He leaned forward, his chest pressing into hers. “I would suggest you take your sexy ass home and keep your nose out of places it doesn’t belong. Before it gets bitten off like this guy’s.” He jerked his head at the dog.
Heat rolled off his body, and a trickle of sweat beaded at the back of her neck. She knew she shouldn’t, that she was losing all her feminist street cred with each degree his little tirade made her temperature spike, but her mind latched on to him thinking her butt was sexy.
She lifted her face, her mouth inches from his. “What makes you more capable of taking care of yourself and the dogs than I am?”
He closed his eyes, and she took the moment to examine his face. The small lines that etched his forehead because he spent his life frowning. The bristly shadow on his jaw that showed he was well past his shave time. Her fingers itched to cup his cheek, feel the scratch, and she clamped them more firmly around the table.
He truly was beautiful. There was strength in every line and plane of his face. Character that he did his best to hide behind sarcasm and dislike. But in that moment, she knew. If she were ever in trouble, he’d be the one person she’d want by her side.
In the next moment, he stripped all those warm feelings away, leaving her bare. He threw his head back and laughed. Her heart lifted at his joy, until she realized he was laughing at her.
“You can’t be serious.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them down her arms, his eyes and fingers cataloging every thin muscle. “What would you have done if that guy tonight had caught you in his warehouse alone? Bored him with a diatribe on the evils of dog fighting until he begged to go to jail? Sorry, darling.” He shook his head. “In this case you don’t have what it takes.”
And there it was. Further proof that all she was good at was talking. And throwing parties. And any other silly, inconsequential bit of fluff Gabe thought made up her world. Her throat closed and she wheezed for breath.
He smiled. “I mean, your fashion sense kicks ass, but I don’t really see you being able to take someone down.”
Marla turned her back and grasped her opposite arms. “I’m more than just my designer labels.” If she said it enough times, maybe eventually someone would believe it.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “But come on. As hobbies go, tracking down criminals is silly, even for you. If you’re bored, why don’t you throw a fundraiser for the shelter? Maybe a fancy ball.”
She turned to face him, her shoulders hunched. “You make me sound so shallow. Like I only care about parties and appearances.”
He shrugged. “You’re good at making things pretty.”
“It’s a wonder I ever step away from my mirror.”
He held up his hands and took a step forward. “Really, that’s not what I meant. You’re turning—”
“No, I think I finally understand you.” She’d never be anything more than an airheaded socialite to him. Good for choosing a paint color or keeping the champagne flowing, but heaven forbid he ask for her opinion on the newest gubernatorial candidate or how the latest EPA ruling would affect automotive stock shares.
The little dog on the table next to her whimpered. Marla held out her hands, and he jumped into them. She gathered him close. He rubbed his misshapen snout against her neck. After the hell he’d lived through, the dog was trying to give her comfort.
She loved the strength of dogs. Their ability to bounce back. She could learn something from them. She drew her shoulder blades together. “You can piss off, Gabe Moretti. You and your small-minded prejudices.” She stalked toward the door. “And by the way, this dog is now mine.” Something else he’d think she felt entitled to, no doubt. “Arrange it with Brad. Do whatever you want. And I’ll keep doing what I want. Because whatever you say, you can’t keep me from trying to help these dogs.”
One thing she knew she was good at was making an exit. On that cue, she swept out the door, leaving Gabe rubbing his forehead with both hands.
Chapter Seven
Gabe threw his shoulder into Dax and charged for the basket. With a flick of his wrist, he made the easy lay-up.
“Sixteen-fourteen.” He tossed the basketball to Dax and gulped down air. He didn’t like to admit it, but the younger kid had a step or two on him. Luckily Dax kept attempting asinine low-percentage hook shots, and their scores remained close.
The two men were on an outdoor court in a schoolyard behind Gabe’s house. The baskets were netless, the asphalt cracked, but it remained a favorite place for Gabe to let off steam. And he had a shitload of steam to release. The seven malnourished dogs in his care should have been uppermost in his mind, and they were close. Every time he thought about his new patients and the way they flinched from human contact, it made him burn from the inside out. But it was Marla’s face that he couldn’t forget. Marla and her beautiful, wounded eyes.
What the hell was wrong with that woman? He’d tried to compliment her, tell her she was good at all that froufrou stuff. Party planning was a skill people paid for, after all. He’d never hire an event planner, but other people did. But she had to twist his words in her mind. As sensitive and temperamental as the car she drove.
“That was a foul. A dirty, dirty foul.” Dax shook his head and grinned. “You need to play dirty in order to win, old man?”
“Do you need to keep your mouth shut in order to keep a roof over your head?” Gabe countered. “Yes, I think you do.”
Dax’s smile widened. “Come on. You love having me live with you. Admit it. It’s no fun being a grumpy bastard if there’s no one there to see it. Kind of like a tree falling in the woods. Ca
n your identity exist without anyone around to bitch at?”
Gabe bent over and placed his hands on his knees. “Are we going to play or bullshit?” And Dax was wrong. This grumpy bastard was quite happy living alone. Although he would miss the brownies Dax liked to make on weekends. Not that he’d tell him that. It would make him think that crashing at Gabe’s house, rent free, was okay.
Dax checked the ball to him and Gabe tossed it back. Dax dribbled, making a slow approach. He feinted left, whirled right, went up for a fade shot. Gabe smacked the ball from his hands and sent it flying across the court.
“That was clean, too,” he told Dax.
“I know a few refs who would have called it,” a new voice said.
Gabe jerked his gaze to the right. Jerome bent over and picked up the basketball lying next to the chain link fence bordering the schoolyard.
The sun glinted off the badge pinned to his chest. Strolling over to them, he spun the ball on his fingers. “You like to play it close to the line, don’t you?” he asked Gabe.
Gabe bit his tongue. Cops liked to twist a person’s words. Would sink to trying to trip a kid up, coax him to turn against his family. Even though his family deserved jail, to Gabe’s mind, trying to get a kid to narc on his dad was still low. Jerome hadn’t been on the force back then, but he wore blue now. All cops were the same.
Dax rubbed his chin, darting a glance between Gabe and their visitor. “Uh…” Dax stuck out his hand. “How you doing, Jerome? We really didn’t get a chance to talk last night, but it’s always nice to see you when it’s not from the back of a squad car.”
Jerome shook Dax’s hand. “Likewise. I hear you’re doing an adequate job at your community service.”
Dax clutched his chest. “Adequate? That hurts, man.”
Jerome’s lips tipped up. “Well, you’re making Judge Nichols happy. That’s all that counts.”
“I’m grateful working at Forever Friends was the sentence he gave me.” Dax caught the ball Jerome tossed to him. “It could have been a lot worse. Besides, who doesn’t like helping dogs?”
Forever Found Page 8