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Smiling, I lightly cup her neck and bring her in for a swift kiss, the puppy squished between us. It quiets her instantly. Pressing my forehead to hers, I murmur, “It will be fine. I promise. He won’t go free, but he might not get a lengthy prison sentence if he cuts a good deal.”
“But—”
I pull back slightly, locking my eyes with hers and dropping my hand to pet Roscoe. “No matter how much time he gets, his mill is finished, Abby. He cannot keep that operation going. The dogs will be seized. He’s done, and isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Yes,” she breathes out. “But—”
“But nothing.”
Something shimmers in her green eyes. Not tears, but maybe hope? As if she’s seeing the end of a tunnel, and the light there is reflecting in her irises.
Abby smiles. “You’re too good for me.”
I scoff and settle back on the couch, lacing my fingers over my stomach. “I’ve got you fooled. I really just wanted to make you my sex slave.”
“Oh, it worked.” She laughs and gently sets Roscoe onto the floor so she can snuggle into my side.
The doorbell rings, and we both jolt upward, our eyes slamming into each other in question.
Abby scrambles from the couch, She’s closest to the door, but I have longer legs and jump the coffee table, cutting her off and grabbing the knob. Roscoe trips over his own feet trying to catch us, and Bubba shakes loose from a deep sleep, barking wildly with the sudden movement.
And on the other side of the door, there’s an answering woof.
I freeze, and Abby’s hand flutters near her throat. We exchange a look—both hopeful and cautious. Bubba barks again, and I utter a curt command, “Sit.”
His ass hits the ground, but his tail wags furiously against the rug. Roscoe leaps at Bubba and tries to bite his collar, but I scoop the puppy into my arms.
Abby reaches out and touches my lower back with trembling fingers.
I open the door, and a white-hot burst of joy explodes as I see Kynan standing there with Princess on a leash.
I’m knocked out of the way by both Abby and Bubba flying onto the porch. Abby drops to her knees—I wince, because that’s concrete, but she doesn’t seem to notice—and throws her arms around Princess’s neck. While there’s no doubt that the golden retriever loves Abby, she’s more interested in Bubba.
My eyes go to Kynan. “Is it done?”
He nods. “Let’s talk.”
Abby rises and accepts the leash from him. “I’ll take them into the back to play.”
We head outside and spend a few minutes letting Princess sniff Roscoe. She’s amazing with him, giving him gentle sniffs before nuzzling him. She’s a natural mom who never really got to be one. Before long, they’re all running around together.
Kynan, Abby, and I sit at the deck table, and I unfurl the umbrella for shade.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Abby asks Kynan. It’s an afterthought, but she’s excited to hear his news. When he shakes his head, she leans forward and demands, “Tell us everything.”
Kynan smiles, drumming his fingers on the table. “It went down just after midnight. Van pulled up, Hellman came out of the house and talked to the driver for a bit. They went inside—presumably to look at the women. The feds had directional mics so they could pick up the conversation. The van driver was checking out the women, tried to negotiate the price that had already been agreed on, but Hellman stayed firm. Walked back outside with the victims who were ushered into the van. A bag was handed to Hellman, and the feds swooped in.”
“Those women didn’t fight?” Abby asks incredulously.
“They were drugged… docile. But Hellman had two men there with him who kept them in control.”
“I would have given anything to be there to see the look on his face,” I say, conjuring an image of Hellman’s skin turning green when he realized what was happening. “Did he lawyer up?”
“Immediately,” Kynan says. Not surprising. “But the two men he employed to watch over the girls started talking, and that has Hellman reconsidering. Last I heard, his lawyer and the US attorney are negotiating.”
“But he’ll do jail time, right?” Abby asks.
“Yeah… he’ll do time. Just don’t know how much. I guess it all depends on the value of his information. But he’s finished doing business here. The state won’t license him to operate the kennel with a felony conviction.”
“Maybe his wife will keep it going,” Abby muses with a frown.
“I don’t think so,” Kynan says, glancing at the dogs playing. “As soon as the feds moved in to arrest Hellman, they descended on the house. Woke her and his boys out of a sound sleep. She’s not a happy woman, to say the least.”
“And how did you get Princess?” I ask.
