Page 4 of His Captive Pet

“The bar. The fight.” She turned to look at the door. “You-you picked me up and brought me in here.” She sounded more accusatory than grateful.

He doubted she’d ever been the one on the receiving end of a rescue before. He pegged her for the rescuing type. Rushing in to save someone before assessing the situation. Much like she had done with the mob in the bar.

“You’d already taken one punch to the jaw, and were well on your way to getting an elbow in your eye. I put you in here to keep you safe.”

She drank more of the water in silence. He watched her throat constrict with each swallow and reminded himself he didn’t take advantage of women who’d drank too much. Which meant he needed to get her sober, because he’d had just about enough of just being a casual friend.

Not after what he’d seen the weekend before. Seeing her outside the bar had shown him his suspicions about her weren’t unfounded. Aubree did not want to be the dominating force in her relationships. He hadn’t talked to her about what he’d seen, wanting to wait for the right time.

“Thanks, but I should probably go.” She placed the empty bottle on the end table.

“Wait.” He held a hand out to keep her from getting up. “Give yourself a minute. I’ll get you a cup of coffee, unless you’d rather have another water?”

The attempt to stand too quickly must have made her head spin; she held her forehead and sat back down. “Coffee would be great.”

He kept an eye on her while making a cup from the Keurig he kept in his office for late nights. He could brew better coffee than the industrial stuff they kept behind the bar for the occasional order.

“You mentioned a dog fight earlier.” He popped the pod into the machine and hit the brew button. She worked at the local shelter, so dealing with rescued dogs was a daily routine for her. He’d never heard her mention dog fights though, and the twisting in his gut told him exactly what she’d been trying to do.

He carried the cup of coffee to her, along with a few packets of sugar and the nondairy creamer he kept on hand.

“I did?” She took the coffee from him, waving off the cream and sugar.

“Yeah, you did.” He retook his seat, scooting the chair a little closer.

“Oh.”

He watched her sipping the black coffee and waited, but she didn’t look as though she was going to be spilling any big secrets. Obviously, she hadn’t meant to tell him about the fights earlier.

“Did you go to a dog fight today, Aubree?” He deepened his tone, knowing it would trigger a response.

The darkening of her eyes and the soft hint of pink brushing her cheeks gave him the exact answer he wanted.

“Did you?”

“Nothing happened. I saved two dogs today.” She sat up straighter on the couch. The woman looked damn proud of herself. He might be able to conjure up some pride as well if he didn’t know who ran the fights in their neighborhood.

They didn’t live in a bad neighborhood, but it was Chicago. And if the political corruption didn’t turn your stomach enough, the local gang trouble would. Los Pecadores may not have the strength of some of the older gangs, but the leader was just as dangerous. They wouldn’t tolerate having Aubree trying to interfere with their fights. Too much money exchanged hands.

“You know much about dog fighting?” He folded his hands on his lap. Watching her sip her coffee, her hair a little disheveled, the flush coming back to her cheeks along with her sobriety, he found her too attractive for his own safety.

Her lids narrowed a bit, and she stared back at him in silence. As though sizing him up for some big reveal.

“I was able to get two dogs out to safety.”

“And could have gotten killed for your trouble. Do you know who runs the fights? How’d you even get in?” His heart pounded a bit harder in his chest, imagining her trying to talk her way past the guards. Someone had to have helped her; no way they’d just let her walk right in.

“Aubree. How’d you get in?” He took the coffee cup from her when she finished with it and cradled it in his hands. He would have rather been cradling her, but he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He knew when to hold steady and when to lunge. With Aubree, lunging wouldn’t get him anywhere but stuck behind a solid wall.

“I have a contact. He lets me treat the dogs, patch them up. The ones I can sneak out, I do.”

“So, this guy doesn’t know you’re taking the dogs to save them?”

“Well, he thinks I’m taking the bad ones to the clinic for more extensive care and will return them. Last time, I was only able to get one, so I just told him the dog didn’t make it. I’ll probably have to do the same with these two.”

Blake closed his eyes for a moment to process. He couldn’t totally fault her plan, but it wasn’t complete. Eventually this guy would realize the dogs she took never came back.

“And when he figures out the dogs go but don’t return?” Maybe she did have more of a plan, but when she became awfully interested in the carpeting of the office, he lost some hope on that ground.

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