Page 35 of Brutal Savage

Halle-fucking-lujah.

Brody tentatively stretches his hands out for the dog, and the woman places her in his arms.

As soon as she does, the dog gets even more excited, licking his face, practically leaping all over him.

He doesn’t smile, though something in his eyes says he wants this one.

I can tell.

Bubbles.

Shit.

I can’t own a dog named Bubbles. Just imagining myself introducing a dog named Bubbles to the heads of the Mafia… We’ll have to change her name.

“She’s a very happy dog. Aren’t you, Bubbles?” The lady scratches the pup’s ears, and I groan internally at the name.

Brody runs a palm down its head, and the dog burrows her face into his chest. His eyes close, and I swear he smiles.

Fuck me.

Bubbles is coming home with us.

“We’ll take her.”

“Great! How about we head to my office so I can get the paperwork started?”

I motion for Brody to follow me, and as we start after her, another employee named Bill stops her.

“Uh, I’m so sorry.” He grimaces, looking between me and the woman. “But someone actually just got approved for Bubbles an hour ago. I forgot to put it into the system.”

“Oh, no!” Her brows rise as she smiles nervously at me. “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. I’m sure we can find another dog he loves just as much.”

One look at Brody’s eyes watering and his bottom lip jutting out with a pout, and I’m ready to do anything to make Bubbles ours.

I grind my molars. “A word. In private.”

“Umm…sure.”

Bill makes his escape, glancing behind his shoulder at her before he completely disappears.

“Brody, stay right here. I’m going to talk to the nice lady about Bubbles.”

We move a little distance away, where I can still see Brody with stars in his eyes as he pets the dog and hugs it tight.

And the dog? Well, she no longer wants to escape. She found someone she wants to escape to, and I’ll do everything to make that happen.

If she thinks someone else is going to get this dog, she doesn’t know me.

“You’re gonna make this right.” My voice simmers, and she scratches her neck.

“Look, sir, I can see you’re in a difficult position, but?—”

I can’t believe I’m about to fight for a dog with such a horrible name. Who picks these names?

“How much?”

“What?”

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