Page 69 of Enforcer's Obsession

It was a dog, hobbling toward us.

“Is that…?”

She looked at me, then looked at the little dog, which was still hobbling toward her.

She approached the dog cautiously, but I could see the excitement in her eyes.

“Champ?” she said, looking down at the dog.

The dog let out a little bark, and then started moving faster, its one misformed front paw slowing its progress.

“If you don’t mind,” my cousin said, lifting his hands in a plea.

“’Bye,” I said, waving him off, though I barely paid him any attention. Instead I watched Hope as she stopped in front of the dog, then kneeled down, her jean hugging her ass perfectly.

“Champ! How did you get here?” she said.

She stuck out her hand, and the dog sniffed it, though I knew it was just a formality. Champ’s tail was wagging vigorously, his sandy-brown ears perked up with excitement.

“How did you get here buddy?” Hope said, petting the dog.

“I see you found an old friend,” I said, kneeling down next to her.

“What is this?” she asked, still smiling, though her brows were knitted with confusion.

“Well, given the circumstances, I thought you might enjoy having a friendly face around,” I said.

True, though not completely.

I did have an almost obsessive need to see her happy, and given what I knew of her, having this dog would do that.

I also just…wanted to do something nice for her, do something that would have her see me as more than a murderer.

“How did you find him?” she asked, stroking her hand up and down the dog’s back.

“You have a picture of him in your apartment,” I responded.

“Apartment” was a generous way to describe the studio she lived in.

Whatever she called it, it wasn’t fit for her, and no matter what, I would see that she never slept there another night.

“The one on my refrigerator?” she said.

“Yeah, the only picture on display in your apartment as a matter of fact,” I said.

I remembered the way that picture had drawn me, Hope, dressed in blue scrubs with a neon safety vest over her chest, holding a tiny, filthy dog.

The compassion in her face was unlike anything I had ever seen.

“What is this, Nico?” she said.

She was still petting the dog, but looking at me, her expression serious.

“A gift, Hope. Nothing more,” I said.

Her brows furrowed deeper. “I can’t… Nico, I…”

“You can. And any way, it’s too late. I’ve adopted him, and you certainly wouldn’t leave him in my care,” I said.

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