Page 8 of The Enforcers: NOAH

The man turned on his heel and stalked out. Mina followed him, and Noah saw her slip a small pistol off a high shelf and slide it in her pocket before she did.

It looked like relationships sucked wherever you went.

A tiny voice said, “Hi, Mr. Gray Woof.”

Noah started, his growl cutting off. The little boy—Brock—was standing right next to his cage, staring at him, his eyes huge and round.

How the hell had he gotten that close without Noah sensing he was there?

“You must be the biggest woof there ever was,” Brock said, looking awestruck.

Noah stood still, watching the boy as he moved across and pressed himself against the cage door. His eyes were compelling, almost mesmerizing. Noah took a step forward.

“I wish I could pet you,” the boy said. “If I gave you pettings, you might not be sad.”

He reached into the cage, his chubby little hand slipping right through the mesh. It was soft and warm, and he smelled of cinnamon sugar and little-boy sweat and something else Noah couldn’t quite define.

Noah butted his head under the boy’s hand, still not wanting to break his gaze.

Brock began to pet Noah’s cheek ruffs and the side of his neck. A deep breath shuddered into Noah’s lungs, and a feeling of warmth spread through him, like sunshine.

He closed his eyes.

He hadn’t realized how nice it was, being petted. It made him feel warm and mellow, like the dark places in him weren’t so dark.

It made him feel…loved.