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“Dibs,” Flash said. “I’ll hold your arms while the rest of them swing.”
Brawler groaned, rubbed a hand down his face. “Fine. You all want in? You’re in. But if anyone touches my playlist in the SUV, I’m throwing you out on I-15.”
“Deal,” Easy said, already opening the back.
“We all know it’s nothing but rock and rage anyway,” Shark muttered.
As they piled in, Brawler took one detour to the base kennel.
Beast exploded out of the gate like a missile, tail wagging, eyes sharp.
“Time to work, buddy,” Brawler said, ruffling his coat. “We’re going to save my brother.”
Beast growled low in answer.
Hours later, Vegas hit them like a living pulse, neon lights flashing, music pounding, people flooding the sidewalks in waves. Horns blared, laughter echoed from balconies, and the strip shimmered like a hallucination in motion.
They piled out at Ray’s favorite place. The casino floor was chaos, overhead lights, clinking chips, perfume clouds, and the constant drone of slot machines. Tourists milled like ants, draped in sequins and bourbon.
“All right,” Flash muttered, scanning the floor. “Blackjack, craps, or sleazy poker table?”
“I want odds on how many kneecaps Brawler breaks before we get to him,” Easy said.
They moved in formation, methodical and sharp.
Then Brawler saw him.
Ray.
Greased hair, oversized ring, cigar hanging from his teeth like a cartoon mobster. Toby stood beside him, small, still, wide-eyed, arms wrapped around his torso like armor. His face was dirty, his shirt was filthy, and he looked like he was about to cry.
Something inside Brawlerdetonated.
“Beast,” he snapped, unclipping the leash.
The dog launched.
Ray barely had time to scream before the Malinois was on him, snarling, snapping, teeth flashing as Ray stumbled over a craps stool and sent chips flying like confetti.
“Jesus!” Ray shrieked, flailing as he scrambled toward a craps table.
“Security’s inbound!” a dealer yelled.
Dagger appeared at the manager’s side just in time. “That guy’s using his autistic nephew to count cards. You want TMZ here tomorrow, or you want us to handle it?”
The manager’s face turned angry in Ray’s direction. He looked at the crowd around him. They all roared, and he grinned. “The customers are always right. Let the dog have a minute with the piece of shit.” He waved three brawny guys off.
Beast circled Ray, low and feral, eyes locked, fangs glinting.
Toby turned toward the chaos. “Chris?” His face broke into smiles that were brighter than the neon lights.
Brawler couldn’t get to his brother fast enough. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”
Toby ran into his arms. “It’s too loud. I don’t like it. There’s too many lights. I told him I wanted to go home. Hank’s gonna be mad.”
“No, he’s not.” Brawler said, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re coming home with me.”
Toby opened Brawler’s fingers. “You get hurt. Want me to kiss it?” He just looked at his little brother, feeling the guys around him shift, theaws, anddamnsunder their breaths. Yeah, they were now hooked too. Toby did that without even breaking a sweat. Twister had sewn him up on the drive.