Rising Storm by Kathleen Brooks Read Free Book Online Page B

grandfather's hand a lick.
    She was so happy she felt her eyes tear up. Her grandparents would give Alice all the love she needed to get over the trauma that happened to her. At the sound of Marshall clearing his throat she turned around to find him right behind her and looking very serious.
    "Katelyn. I'm glad she's alright and even happier she has a good family now, but I need to talk to you…now."

Chapter Five
     
    Marshall led the way out of the room and into the sitting room at the front of the house. Katelyn watched as he went over to the unlit fireplace and looked up at the antique rifle hanging on the wall.
    "We have a problem," he said seriously to the rifle, but she was pretty sure it was meant for her.
    "Duh just doesn't seem intellectual enough for me to say, but, duh." A problem with flashbacks to him naked in bed, her leaping behind cars to hide from him, and don't forget going hungry because he was always at the Café.
    Marshall fought the urge to roll his eyes, it made him feel like such a girl. Instead he clenched his jaw and counted to ten as he watched her put her hands on her hips and stare him down. She had been amazing so far with Alice. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail and sheer determination had set on her face.
    Her normally bright blue eyes turned navy as she focused on saving Alice. When he looked at her he saw a beautiful and intelligent woman. Not the dumb blonde model he normally saw. Why? Why did he have to be so damn attracted to the one woman who drove him so nuts?
    "Between what I saw tonight and the information your boyfriend gave me the other night about the dog he found," he paused. He hoped she’d deny it, but she kept her face void of expression and didn’t say a word. There's that ice princess he'd always known. "There’s no reason to act in theory anymore. There’s an obvious dog-fighting ring in my county, or at least around my county."
    "It would seem so. Although, I'm not surprised. How much do you know about dog fighting, Sheriff?"
    He ground his teeth together and blew out an agitated breath. Was she always so cold and indifferent? "Marshall. Call me Marshall. I think after sleeping together we can call each other by our first names, even if you were a coward and snuck out before breakfast."
    Ah-ha! He finally got a reaction this time. Her eyes flashed with anger, a flush crept up her neck, and he smiled and rocked back on his heels when she shot him a look that would scare most men.
    "As I was saying, Sheriff, I’ve seen all different levels of dog fighting in my life. Before I made a name for myself as a model, I had to do some more extreme shoots to get known. One of the shots was this editorial about gangs and I was posed in the middle of South Chicago. Young men would use dogs and dog fighting as a way to climb the gang ladder. The more fearsome the dog, the more status the owner got."
    "So, it's just a status symbol?"
    "On that level, yes. Then there's the polar opposite. The ones with money. They are the professionals. That's the highest level of fighting. It's extremely organized and extremely dangerous. They hire out poor and struggling models for more than modeling. They call them hostesses, but I don't even know if you could call them prostitutes. My roommate was hired as a server for one of these and when she came back she had nightmares for months. She had been groped and assaulted, witnessed drug and weapons trading and then actually saw a night of dog fighting. She had to go to therapy."
    "It's that bad?"
    "On that level, yes. It's ruthless. But, this reminds me more of what I saw when I was at veterinarian school in Auburn. They're kind of in the middle of the levels. They are way more organized and have more money than the gangs, but they don't have as much as the professionals. They are usually regional as opposed to international, like the professionals are. So, this ring here could be made up of fighters from Keeneston and