CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Wolfman had to hand it to Atlanta PD. They were in so far over their head they probably couldn't see the light anymore, but they fought their tails off to protect innocent people.

And innocent dogs. He was overjoyed to hear that the dog fighting ring had been broken up and most of the principles arrested or fled.

It certainly would make his job easier.

He walked around the boarded-up room that at one time had been his K9 training school. For the longest time, he had been the go-to trainer for Atlanta PD. He had trained over two hundred dogs and trained them well. He loved them. He loved taking them from puppies and sending them off as solid professionals—every bit as useful and courageous as their human handlers.

Then that damned ring…

He heard a scuffling noise coming from the back of the building. He walked back to find a stray poking around, probably attracted by the smell of the dog food he still kept here.

"Hey, buddy," he said softly.

The dog leapt back and growled at him, baring its teeth and flattening its ears to its skull. The Wolfman smiled and approached slowly and calmly, keeping his shoulders square and his posture tall.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't hurt you."

The dog looked left and right, trying to determine the best route of escape. It snarled and snapped to show the Wolfman how dangerous it was and that he had better not pick a fight or the dog would hurt him. The Wolfman kept his calm as he approached the closet near where the dog stood. The dog lunged at him, but he could tell by its cringing posture and the way its tail hung tucked under its legs that the attack was a feint. He kept coming, keeping his eyes on the dog as he opened the door.

The poor creature was emaciated. Its ribs stuck out prominently on its chest, and when the Wolfman opened the closet, the dog's eyes immediately turned to the bags of food. He whined, forgetting for a moment the threat of the large man and thinking only of a chance to soothe its constant hunger.

The Wolfman took a bag and walked to the dishes that lined the wall. The dog's attitude changed immediately. It stopped snapping and approached, cautiously but not fearfully. The Wolfman was happy to see that. The dog had endured much mistreatment at the hands of people, but it was not a stranger to kindness either. There were still some good people in the world.

He poured a good amount of the kibble in the bowl and backed away. The dog looked warily at him, and he smiled again and said, "Go ahead. You can eat."

The dog trotted to the bowl and began to eat, slowly at first, then voraciously, as the chance of a full belly outweighed the fear that this large stranger might hurt him. The Wolfman watched the dog eat and wondered how it could be that anyone would find hurting these creatures more fulfilling than helping them.

His smile faded as he thought of the job he still had to finish. The police had taken care of most of his targets, but there was one who escaped. Francisco Jimenez, real name Gaucho. He was one of the pit bosses. The Wolfman had learned that Gaucho had killed some of the dogs on his way out of the warehouse. Why, he didn't know. For heaven's sake, he could have just left them in the cages. What were they gonna do, rat him out?

But no, he had killed them. Now he would pay. Just like they all had.

The dog finished its meal and cast wondering, grateful eyes on the Wolfman. He started toward the back door, then hesitated and looked back.

The Wolfman would love to have another dog. This one would stay if he commanded it to stay, he knew. He had shown it kindness, and that was enough to earn its lifelong loyalty if he wanted.

But not yet. He still had to avenge Lucy. Then he could find another dog. Maybe this one would return. Probably it would. Dogs remembered kindness. Maybe when his work was done, he could take this one and leave with him. He could travel somewhere out west and find a quiet place in a quiet forest somewhere where the two of them could enjoy the quiet and peaceful existence that they both deserved.

But that day wasn't today.

"Go on," he said. "It's okay. I'll see you again."

The dog dipped its head in acknowledgement and gratitude, then bounded out the door. The Wolfman watched until it disappeared down the alley, then donned his mask, shouldered his pack, and took one last look around his business.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Then he left to find Gaucho.