She slipped her first-aid kit off her shoulder, then dropped flat on her belly, wiggling forward to get herself under the back of the car. The dog growled again, but it was halfhearted, like he didn’t have the energy to even put up a good front.
Lacey ignored Wendy and the other cops as they told her not to go under the car, that it was too dangerous and they would get the dogs out another way. But these guys didn’t have time for another way, and they sure as hell couldn’t survive being dragged out with a dog catcher’s noose.
She stopped short of the conscious dog, assessing not only his damage, but the injuries of the other two animals. Tears stung her eyes. Their ears were tattered, their faces and necks torn and lacerated, and their chests and shoulders matted with thick, clotted blood. But at least they were alive. All three of them needed urgent care though, and likely hours of surgery. How they’d been able to drag themselves this far was anyone’s guess. If she was going to help any of them, she had to deal with the conscious guy first.
“You did a good job hiding out under this car, but I’m here now, and you need to let me help you,” she told him.
She moved closer to the dog inch by inch, speaking in a calm but assertive voice that she hoped the pit bull would take as authoritative and alpha-like. It took five minutes to get close enough to touch the dog, and by then, the poor guy had dropped his chin to the dirt in exhaustion. She gently ran her hand along his back.
“Come on, baby. Let’s get you out of here.”
Lacey worried the dog wouldn’t want to leave his friends, but he was too tired to resist her prodding hands. Or maybe he actually trusted her. Either way, he let her nudge him out from under the car, where two of Wendy’s coworkers met them with glove-covered hands. Both officers were good with dogs, having a gentle, calming energy about them that kept the pit bull from getting upset as they moved him away from the car.
Another cop handed her a length of plywood, which she used like a makeshift litter, gently moving the dogs on it one at a time, then sliding them out. In full light, all three dogs looked even worse than she’d thought. How the heck had they made it through the night?
She looked up to see Wendy and another cop leading the old man away in cuffs. The caretaker complained the whole way, alternating between stating that he had no idea where those dogs had come from and declaring that he didn’t see what the big deal was.
“They’re just dogs,” he grumbled.
Lacey focused her attention on the injured animals, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d give in to the urge to throw herself at the wasted piece of humanity and rip him to pieces. The other officers left her alone as she worked to get the three dogs stabilized for the trip to the clinic. They usually did that—one, because they knew there wasn’t a lot they could do to help, and two, because they knew she hated to let anyone see her cry. She always cried when she worked on abused animals.
As she set up IV lines and treated the worst of the lacerations with trauma foam, she mentally tallied the extent of the dogs’ injuries. They were looking at a lot of surgeries and care. The owner of the clinic where she worked provided everything she needed for the surgeries at cost—that had been part of the agreement when she’d taken the job—but she’d also cover some of the cost of caring for the animals herself. Wendy and her ACS team would come up with donations to cover the rest. While there were too many people in the world who were horrible to animals, there were also just as many who were amazingly generous.
For reasons she couldn’t really understand, Lacey found herself thinking about Alex as she treated the injured dogs. The big cop had stopped by the clinic every day since their first meeting under the guise of buying food, treats, and toys for that adorable pit bull mix of his, but it was obvious he’d come to see her—and ask her out. She was flattered. The guy was sinfully gorgeous, with an unbelievable body and a voice that made it hard not to stare at his mouth every time he uttered a single word. It didn’t hurt that he had an adorable Northeastern accent, either. She’d be a big, fat liar if she said she didn’t enjoy talking to him. But she had no intention of going out with him—be it for dinner, lunch, or coffee—and she’d turned him down politely each time he’d asked.
Unfortunately, Alex was making it darn hard to resist. He was always so relaxed and casual, and when he smiled at her, she couldn’t help smiling back, even as she hated herself for sending mixed signals. And then the other day, he’d shown up with flowers. She didn’t think guys even did stuff like that anymore. While the bouquet was beautiful, she hadn’t kept them. The way she saw it, if she wasn’t going to entertain his repeated offers for a date, it didn’t seem right to keep the flowers, no matter how sweet the gesture happened to be.
Wendy thought she was insane, of course. “He’s gorgeous, charming, muscular, and has all his teeth, not to mention a job. You obviously like him, so why the hell won’t you give him the time of day?”
Lacey wished she could explain it to her friend, but it was too complicated to get into. The truth was, while there was a part of her that desperately wanted to give in and go out with Alex, she knew it would only lead to trouble. She had no doubt that if they went on a date, she’d have a wonderful time. She was also just as sure that if they ended up in bed together, she’d enjoy the hell out of it.
The problem was that Alex didn’t strike her as the kind of guy looking for a quick roll in the hay. They’d go out, have fun, maybe end up in bed at some point—then he’d want to keep seeing her. She supposed there were a lot of women who would love to have a relationship with someone like Alex, but she wasn’t one of them. She’d never been in anything even remotely resembling a long-term relationship with a guy, and she didn’t imagine she ever would.
She couldn’t go out with Alex because she feared the date would go so well he’d want another one.
God, that made her sound crazy. Maybe she was. But if so, she had her reasons. After all the deadbeats her mom had gone out with after her dad left, she didn’t have a high opinion of men in general. In her experience, they didn’t stick around.
Lacey was still musing over those thoughts as she finished getting all three dogs ready for transport. They were weak, but the IVs had already worked miracles on them. She was just getting ready to transfer them to her SUV when she looked up and saw Wendy heading in her direction. Behind her, there were two men who couldn’t have stuck out more in a junkyard if they tried. Both wore suits and ties, though the clothing worn by the older, more frail-looking of the two was obviously much more expensive than that sported by the younger, powerfully built guy with him.
“This is Mr. Bensen, the owner,” Wendy said, her voice tight as she motioned to the older man. “And this is his chief of security, Mr. Pendergraff. They were of the opinion that we must have been mistaken about someone running a dogfight on this property. They were quite surprised that we found injured dogs, and insisted on seeing them.”
Bensen had an unhealthy, yellow-brown cast to his complexion that screamed medical issues in Lacey’s mind, but she forgot about it as the man gave the injured dogs a disdainful look. It was like he was offended the animals had the audacity to bleed on his property. The dismissive expression on his face was enough to make her hate the man. He’d known about the dogfighting all right. His only surprise was that his people had failed to clean up properly.
She turned her attention to the other man—Pendergraff—and had to stop herself from taking a step back. The man had pale skin, platinum-white hair, and cornflower-blue eyes with dark pupils. As a medical professional, Lacey knew she shouldn’t let the man’s genetic condition affect her, but he was scary-looking as hell. It wasn’t just the man’s albino condition that freaked her out, either. It was the ragged scars across the left side of the man’s face and his dead, emotionless stare. He regarded the dogs as if they were discarded junk like the rest of the stuff in this place. She could definitely see a man like him running a dogfight.
“How do you know these animals were hurt in a dogfighting event?” Bensen asked caustically. “Maybe they slipped through the fence and got in a fight with each other. They’re dogs. That’s what they do.”
Lacey advanced on the old man so fast that his albino security guard took a step forward to intercept her.
“That’s not what they do,” she ground out. “It’s what sick, depraved people make them do. They put them in chains, then choke and goad them until they’re half-mad from pain and fear. Then they put them in a small pit with another dog. They attack each other because they think they’re about to die.”
Bensen raised a brow. “You certainly don’t have to get so excited about it. Or look at me like I’m the culprit. I run over a dozen different business endeavors in this city and don’t have the time or the inclination to keep an eye on every one of them. If someone here was responsible for staging a dogfight, you can arrest them.”
“We will,” Wendy assured him. “We took your caretaker in for questioning, but I’d be interested in knowing where you were last night.”
Bensen laughed as if that were the silliest question anyone had asked him. “Not here, I can assure you. I was at a party with several investors. The mayor was there as well. I can give you his number if you need to verify where I was.”
“That might just be necessary,” Wendy said. “But before we do that, I’d appreciate if you and Mr. Pendergraff could come down to the station to fill out a statement and get this all straightened out.”
