Julie Miller
________________________
JUSTICE UNLEASHED
Protectors at K-9 Ranch #6
Copyright ©2026 by Julie Miller
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Enterprises
Excerpt
What happens when the wrong man turns out to be the right guy?
What the hell was Ashley Cooper doing here?
Enzo Moretti about choked on the beer he was pretending to drink when he saw his boss’s stepdaughter waltz into the tent on Lowell Crockett’s arm.
He also saw the brief glimpse of fear, and the shock and disgust at the noisy nightmare going on around them, before she visibly steeled her resolve, pasted on a smile and let Lowell introduce her to his inner circle. Or more aptly, to show off the beautiful blonde to his inner circle of thugs, con men, suspected killers and hangers-on.
Enzo was an undercover cop. Since his full name was Vincenzo, he’d often answered to Vinnie as a little boy—before he’d lost almost everything that mattered and his life had reset—but with a few treasured memories still cataloged at the back of his mind, he didn’t hesitate to answer to it now. It made for a smart cover name in his role as an enforcer infiltrating this underground dogfighting ring. His assignment: document the operation behind this sick business, get to know the major players and organizers, gather intel on upcoming fight nights, identify the source of funding and build a rock-solid case.
The FCC and FBI were eager to expose the fight broadcasts and whoever was profiting. The vice squad had its eyes on the drug deals and illegal gambling. KCPD wanted the cruelty stopped and justice for the human and animal victims.
He hated that Ashley had seen him playing the heavy with Rhys Dillon, a low-level guy with a gambling problem. Not that Enzo intended to hurt him. Earlier, Dillon had been cooperative—offering names and sources in exchange for help covering his debt. Enzo had planned to spot the missing three hundred dollars himself to get those names and a phone number. But Thorny had interrupted and dragged Dillon off before the deal was done.
Enzo had played the bully more than once to protect his cover. But he loathed the senseless violence. And seeing the grimace of pain on Ashley’s lips when Lowell gripped her arm made his blood boil. Every instinct screamed to break Lowell’s hold, get her out. But he had a mission. Until KCPD had enough to bring this operation down, he was Vinnie Gallo.
It was bad enough that Nikki Davis was involved. She had a rap sheet and had chosen this life.
But Ashley Cooper? With those blue eyes, long blond waves and fierce attitude? She didn’t belong here. He’d seen her photo on Sergeant Jedediah Burke’s desk—his boss at KCPD’s K-9 Division. Enzo had been recruited from Saint Louis specifically for this case. He wasn’t a public figure in Kansas City yet, which made him ideal for undercover work.
He’d met Ashley in passing at a K-9 Ranch fundraiser over the summer. Clean-cut and smiling that day in his khaki shorts and polo, with Blitz, his rescued Labrabull, at his side. She hadn’t noticed him then—doubtful she recognized him now with his longer hair, scruff of beard, mirrored sunglasses and hard-edged persona.
That day, she’d hugged her mom and stepdad, joked about a “hot date” and breezed off with a wink. Burke had just raised an eyebrow and warned her, “Be careful.” Enzo wondered how many times she’d heard that warning.
Apparently not often enough.
She was stunning. She was trouble. And she was with Lowell Crockett.
Enzo had been chosen for this job because of his fresh face and formidable build. Vinnie Gallo played the part of an enforcer: silent muscle, loyal to the operation. He transported the dogs, guarded Pinkney’s deposits and kept outsiders away. With time, he’d worked his way up the food chain. He knew where the dogs were bred and housed. He was closing in on how the events were organized and how invites were sent. And maybe—just maybe—he’d uncover the identity of the shadowy Boss pulling the strings.
Flirting with the boss’s stepdaughter wasn’t part of the plan.
Besides, Ashley seemed like a lot of drama. And Enzo liked quiet. He needed quiet. After what he’d been through in the Army—after what Blitz had helped him through—he didn’t have much left for complications.
Still…the way she filled out those jeans? The way she cradled those puppies and defied Lowell’s threats?
She’d win a man’s heart or break it. Maybe both.
Lowell’s grip had made her flinch. The lecherous comment from Thorny had made her shoulders stiffen. And the tears in her eyes when Lowell threatened the pups? They’d nearly made Enzo break character.
He hoped she was smart enough to keep walking when she went to the restroom. Get out. Find help. Call her stepdad.
If Lowell or the others learned her identity or connection to KCPD, they might think she was a plant. And that could get her killed.
Enzo tossed his barely touched beer and stood at the tent’s opening. If she came back, he’d intercept her. Keep her away from Lowell. He couldn’t call 911—not yet. But this place was a powder keg. One spark, and it would blow.
The others were busy. Thorny, a loudmouth and drug user, was Lowell’s cousin and errand boy. Stuart Pinkney, the accountant and suspected cyber brain, guarded his laptop like gold. Enzo had to get into those files—find out how the bets and money laundering worked. Everett Doyle was several years older than the others and had leathery age lines on his face and the snow-white hair and beard to prove it. He was in charge of the dogs themselves. Caring for them, training them. Breeding them and even dispatching of the abused animals when one sustained a career-ending injury or contracted an illness that could infect the others. Enzo suspected Doyle had been a part of this life for years but had only recently attached himself to their self-appointed leader, Lowell Crockett, now that he was becoming such a big player in the illegal betting game. He wondered what secrets the wiry old man was hiding, and how heartless he had to be to do the things to these animals he’d apparently been doing for years.
Enzo wanted to rescue every damn dog from this horrendous existence, especially when he heard the sickening shouts of excitement and applause coming from the patrons in the stands surrounding the fight. The only thing that kept him from running out of here himself was knowing that he was the dogs’ best chance of survival. And that if he broke up one fight, three more would pop up and take its place unless he stayed the course. If he ignored his conscience and let the night play out, KCPD would be that much closer to revealing all the players and gathering enough evidence to stop the illegal dog fighting altogether. Logically, he knew not every dog bred and raised to this life would be fit for life outside of the ring, but he might be able to save a few, and he’d take satisfaction in the fact that putting these people away would save hundreds more dogs and humans from this violent life.
He just hoped Ashley Cooper was smart enough to save herself, and that she’d already called a ride share or taxi or even caught the damn bus and gotten away from Lowell and the warehouse tonight. He needed to focus on the task at hand and not worry about his boss’s stepdaughter.
Leo, Thorny and Doyle had pulled their prize fighter, Ninja, out of the van and carried him inside the tent to prep him for his upcoming fight. It was customary to keep the dogs separated from each other in their cages, so no one would get riled up and start a fight prematurely. Generally, when they were kept under tarps without any visual stimulus, the animals were fairly docile. But once they caught sight of their opponent, the dog would red zone and charge, and the fight would be on.
Enzo crossed his arms and waited outside the tent, keeping an eye on both the cruel taunts Doyle was using to get the dog riled up, and on the area surrounding the tent and van.
Lowell’s phone buzzed in his pocket. After listening to a brief message, he cursed and stamped around the side of the van. Enzo desperately wanted to hear the other side of that call or at least glimpse the number. “I have everything under control,” he insisted. The Boss. He was getting a directive from the Boss that he didn’t like. “No. I’ll handle it.” Clearly angry, Lowell disconnected the call and slapped his palm against the side of the van, triggering a chorus of barking from the cages inside, before striding back toward Enzo.
Enzo wished he had a bug on Lowell’s phone, or a parabolic antenna to magnify the sound so that he could eavesdrop. That was exactly the kind of call he needed to be privy to. “Everything okay, Lowell?”
The shorter man immediately pasted a smile on his face and lightly smacked Enzo on the shoulder. “I need to go manage a business transaction. Tie up some loose ends. Wasn’t planning on dealing with this tonight, but it has to be done.”
Enzo checked the pathways between the tents and vehicles for Ashley, and was happy not to see her. He could focus on his assignment again. “Need backup? I can go with you.”
“No. I got this.” Lowell shrugged off the offer. Maybe he’d just been asked to place a bet, but Enzo suspected this was about something more. “You keep an eye on things here.”
“Roger that.” No sense in pushing to go with him and raise suspicion. But he could follow the red-haired man at a distance and blend in with the crowd to see who he was meeting with, and what that conversation would be about.
Unless somebody else got in his way.
Like the self-absorbed Cayden Thornhill. “Lowell, come on, man. You don’t need me here. I wanna go watch the fight. I’ve got money riding on this one.” Enzo briefly thought that a grown man shouldn’t have to ask permission to watch the bloody show. But it was no secret that Lowell kept his cousin on a short leash. “Please, man. I need just a couple hundred more, and I can get my own dog. I’ve got a good lead on one.”
Some of his Lowell’s temper resurfaced and Lowell he shoved his cousin back into the table where Stu was packing up the last of the money they’d collected so far. “You think you’re going to be bettin’ against me? You think I’m going to allow that?”
“Hey!” Stuart groused.
Enzo quickly grabbed the table to keep it from toppling over, then helped Thorny back to his feet.
“No, man. I just…” He apologized to Stu, then whined to Lowell. “I want my own dog. At least, let me watch the fight.”
“Go.” Lowell pushed Thorny into step ahead of him, his words fading as they made their way toward the arena. “But when I text you that I need you, you answer me.”
“I will. I promise. You can count on me.” The young man ran out toward the arena to watch the contest unfolding. Lowell followed at a more leisurely pace, cursing his cousin for getting on his last nerve.
Enzo’s gaze followed them to the staging area outside the fenced-in arena until he lost both Thorny and Lowell in the crowd. While a man reported results on the loudspeaker, the audience booed and tossed beer and soda cans and paper cups at the fence. Apparently, their favorite hadn’t won that round, and a lot of bettors were losing a lot of money.
The announcer kept the prattle coming, explaining about the dogs’ injuries and how the fight was being called by one of the owners trying to save his dog. The announcer might be trying to calm the audience, but it seemed as if he was creating a bigger rift between factions who’d each had a dog in the fight. Enzo shifted on his feet, not liking the angry, restless vibe coming from the crowd now filling the stands. Just like the dogs battling in the arena, it felt like a fight was about to erupt among the patrons watching the event.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement behind him and cursed. “What the hell…?”
With her long, blonde ponytail bouncing behind her, and her hands in a death grip around the long strap of her purse across her chest, Ashley Cooper was walking straight toward him. Well, straight back to the tent. Back to the puppies that had obviously been the tipping point in her promise to return.
He had just turned to block her path and warn her away from her big-hearted but foolish decision when a gunshot rang out.
Enzo’s first instinct was to throw his arms around Ashley and drag her to the dusty floor. He heard a second shot, followed by screams and curses and the unmistakable drumbeat of feet scrambling to get off the metal bleachers. Keeping his arms around Ashley, he rolled until he hit the back tire of the van, needing them both out of the main path from the entrance to the arena as panicked men and women stampeded past them.
There was a loud crunch of metal and more screams as either a section of the bleachers or the chain-link cage surrounding the arena gave way. The announcer was shouting directions over the loudspeaker, but Enzo couldn’t make out what the man was saying over the chaos around them. Lowell ran into the tent from the other direction, yelling something about keeping the dogs out of sight. He heard the calmer tone of Stu Pinkney warning them to get him and his laptop and money bag out of there.
A man tripped and fell just a few feet away, moaning in pain as he was kicked or trampled.
“Get off me!” Ashley shoved at Enzo’s chest.
The van rocked violently as people slammed into it. Dogs yelped inside. Enzo tightened his hold, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Not yet. It’s not safe.”
He felt her breath against his neck. He shifted onto his elbows to ease his weight off her, just as something sharp and metal cracked into the side of his skull. Stars burst behind his eyes.
He grunted at the stinging jolt of pain and tucked his body around Ashley’s once more. For a few seconds, she curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, and then she pushed him away again. “Move, Vinnie. I have to get out of here.”
“Where the hell is Thorny? That boy can’t do one thing without getting himself in trouble. Vinnie!” Lowell was back, yelling for him. “I need you!”
The crowd was thinning. Sirens howled in the distance. The thunder of running feet gave way to the sound of engines starting and tires squealing against pavement. Dog owners and the people organizing the fight were trying to rush toward the arena to retrieve their dogs and claim their money. He had no clue who had fired those shots. But in a sudden burst of clarity, he realized this was the distraction he’d needed. Just as good as a police raid. He’d lost his sunglasses somewhere in their escape, but he doubted Ashley could get a good look at his face from this position, anyway. He pressed his lips to her ear, wishing he hadn’t noticed the sweet vanilla scent of her hair, and whispered. “Now’s your chance. Run after that crowd. Get out of here.”
“Vinnie!” Lowell again. He must have been talking on his phone. “I took care of it. I promise.” He gave an answer that made little sense to Enzo. “She’s with Leo.” Then he shouted a command—but not to Enzo. “Get her out of here!” It was impossible to tell which was part of the phone call and what was an angry man shouting orders. “I’ll be there tomorrow night. Vinnie!”
Feeling woozy, Enzo scooted them away from the swinging van door and pushed himself up onto his knees. He reached down to help Ashley to her feet—then froze. Two drops of blood marked her cheek, and another glistened in her golden hair. “You’re hurt,” he growled, brushing her cheek with his thumb, hating that he hadn’t protected her.
She swatted his hand away and scrambled to her feet. “You’re dripping on me,” she insisted. He winced as she touched what must be a cut or abrasion in the hairline above his forehead. “You need to get that looked at. Stitches probably.” Then she backed away toward the front of the van. “Go. Lowell needs you.”
Enzo shook his head, confounded by the woman. He’d been worried about her, worried about keeping her safe. But she’d turned the tables on him. She hadn’t run, hadn’t screamed. Instead, she was trying to take care of him. Of all the things she could have said—that had blindsided him. She didn’t seem to know if she liked him and wanted to help him, wanted his protection—or if she saw him as the enemy, as nothing better than Lowell and the other criminals and lowlifes here, and couldn’t wait to get away from him. Of course, that was what she was supposed to believe.
“Vinnie! Now!”
Right. No time for introspection.
What had he thought about not needing any more drama in his life?
Swiping away the blood running down to his eyebrow, Enzo stood and surveyed the area. About two-thirds of the patrons seemed to have fled the warehouse already, but the dog owners, the gamblers, the special-invitation guests who’d spent big money here tonight, were scrambling to salvage whatever they could, tear down any evidence of what had happened here, get it loaded on their vehicles and get the hell out of there.
He grabbed the man who had been knocked down beneath the arm and helped him to his feet before sending him on his way. He crossed the main trafficway and discovered a smaller world of chaos inside Lowell’s tent, which had been knocked askew by the people rushing past. The red-haired bully was shouting orders. “Thorny must have run off to save his own hide. You and Doyle get these dogs out of here.”
“Where are Leo and Nikki?” Enzo asked.
“Gone, I hope,” Lowell answered. “I’ll stick with Stu and take care of the money. I’ll get him out of here in my car. Vinnie, I need you to tear this place down and dump it into yours. I don’t want to leave any trace of us behind.”
No mention of Ashley. No concern for her. She was a low priority when it came to saving his business.
“It’s about time.” Lowell cursed as Thorny stumbled back to the van and went straight to the driver’s door. If he looked a little paler than normal, it was probably because he knew his cousin was pissed at him for not being there to help. “Get these dogs out of here.”
Enzo started folding up the table and chairs, and stuffed what he could into the back of the van before Doyle slammed the doors shut and jumped into the passenger side as Thorny peeled out. Lowell and Stu blended into the waning crowd and disappeared.
Sirens now wailed outside. Red and blue lights flickered across the broken windows and open doors, bouncing off the walls inside the warehouse. Even though this was his investigation, someone else might have tipped off KCPD about the dogfight. More likely, someone outside the warehouse had heard the shots, or the patrons had reported their injuries to 911. Even if the organizers still tried to pass this off as a rave, the cops would know the party had gotten way out of hand and would be filing in at any moment to try to apprehend the gunman and evacuate the building.
Enzo tore down the tent canopy and started to disassemble the metal frame, but a truck barreled through, breaking two of the metal support legs as he jumped clear. Screw this. He needed to jet before he got hurt any worse or hauled in for questioning. Abandoning Lowell’s orders, he wadded up the canopy and tossed it into the trash. He grabbed the cooler to make it look like he’d done something, then headed for the back lot.
Then he saw her.
Ashley dodged around the few remaining vehicles and the people frantically trying to load their stuff and get away. Enzo cursed. The fool woman was headed in the wrong direction.
“Ash!” He tossed the cooler and ran toward her, grabbing her arm as a van sped by, hitting the corner of a stack of empty crates that toppled toward her.
She tugged against him. “What is with you, you big bully? Leave me alone.”
“This way.” He tightened his grip, and she gasped. He must have grabbed her in the same place where Lowell had hurt her. “Sorry. But the cops are that way.” He slid his fingers down to capture her hand in his and nodded toward the rear exit. “We need to go this way.”
They ran right past the arena, where they saw a man lying in a pool of blood on the ground. Enzo’s heart sank. It was Rhys Dillon. Somebody had shot him. Yeah, the man was a gambling and possible drug addict who had just bought a new dog and entered the fight game, but he didn’t deserve this. Enzo made a quick scan of the arena and the empty cages beside the gate. Where was Dillon’s dog, Shark? Had somebody stolen him, and Dillon had been shot trying to stop them?
Enzo spared a few precious seconds to push inside the gate and kneel beside him. He pressed two fingers against the man’s neck and swore. For a split second, the cop in him surged to the fore. He bent over to sniff the gun in the dead man’s hand. It had been recently fired, but a quick glance at his surroundings revealed no other victim. Dillon hadn’t had a gun on him when he’d come inside the tent. Enzo had frisked him himself.
There might be a wounded man who’d made it out with the rest of the crowd. Hell. Dillon had promised to connect him with the Boss—or at least tell him where to look to find out more information on the reputed kingpin of this whole lousy operation.
He quickly checked the man’s pockets, searching for some kind of clue. He found Dillon’s wallet in the back pocket of the man’s jeans and opened it. It was stuffed with twenties and hundreds, probably a thousand bucks—money he hadn’t had on him when he’d come to pay his debt to Lowell. If this was a robbery or drug transaction gone bad, who would leave this kind of money behind? Had he sold his dog? “Why did somebody shoot you, Rhys?”
“Are you robbing him?” Ashley knelt beside him, slapping at his shoulder. “Stop that!”
He tucked the wallet back into the man’s pocket and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.
She fought against his grip. “We can’t just leave him. He’s your friend.”
“No, he’s not. He’s just a guy Crockett did business with.” And a valuable lead that had literally been shot to hell.
“We have to help him.”
“There’s nothing we can do. We have to go.”
“He’s dead?”
“Bingo.” He’d report everything he’d seen and heard to Sergeant Burke the next day, but for now he had to protect the man’s stepdaughter and rely on the cops and paramedics to handle the scene.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, dragging her feet in an effort to stop him. Holding her beside him like this, he realized the top of her head didn’t even come up to his shoulder. But that didn’t stop her from puffing up like a little banty hen and reading him the riot act. “If I don’t want to be with Lowell, I sure as hell don’t want to be with you, Vinnie.”
“Call me Enzo.” He tugged harder.
“Why?” She tugged back. “You think I want to follow a man who robs dead guys and doesn’t even know his own name?”
“I didn’t rob him. I left the evidence just as it was.”
“The evidence?” She frowned at his choice of words.
Damn. He had to distract her before she figured out what his quick examination of the body really meant. He turned in front of her and halted, absorbing the momentum of her plowing into his chest and then trying to break his grip on her. “My name is Vincenzo. I prefer Enzo to Vinnie. I know Lowell’s a jerk. I don’t like how he treats women. I’m trying to help you.”
“I know who you are.” For a split second, she stopped fighting. Had she remembered he was a cop? Or just that they’d been introduced earlier?
“Ash. Come with me,” he pleaded one more time before resorting to throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out that way.
“No thanks. You’re one of them.”
The moment she started to pull away, he tightened his grip and got right in her face. “I’m the one of them who will get you out of here in one piece without getting arrested.”
She considered his offer for about 2.5 seconds before stepping around him and stretching her legs into a run beside him. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Ashley never let go of his hand until they reached his souped-up black Dodge Charger. She sank into the passenger seat and buckled herself in as he ran around and got behind the wheel. He might wish this state-of-the-art muscle car was his, but it was all part of his Vinnie Gallo persona—on loan to KCPD to help flesh out his cover. That didn’t stop him from driving it like a speed demon, though. Leaving his lights off so he wouldn’t immediately draw attention to their escape, he bounced over the curb and turned into the street, putting at least two blocks between them and the police before he turned on his headlights and raced toward the highway.
They were cruising with the flow of traffic toward downtown when he heard the yipping coming from Ashley’s side of the car. The purse in her lap was moving.
Enzo cursed. “You didn’t.”
Ashley pulled open her bag to reveal the two squiggly black-and-white pittie puppies inside. She picked one up and cradled it against her chest while she petted the other one in her lap. “Hey, little ones. It’s okay now. I’ve got you. The mean man’s not going to hurt you.”
“How?”
“I snuck in the side door of the van and pulled them out of their cage before the others started loading it up. With everything else going on, they’ll probably think one of their rivals stole them—or maybe they got loose in all the chaos. I left the cage door open.” She had both the puppies cradled in her arms now. “Are you going to tell Lowell?”
“No.” He half smiled and reached across to scratch between the ears of the one closest to him. At least one good thing came out of tonight. “But you are in so much trouble, Ash.”
“Maybe. But they aren’t. Not anymore.”
Copyright © 2026 Harlequin Enterprises
