Mr. & Mrs. Norcross - Page 16

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.