the time. He didn’t have the patience for that nonsense.
And then his father showed up at his door one day with a scarred puppy in his hands when Andino was just twenty-two. Maybe the little pup had reminded Andino’s father of the rottie he’d had all those years ago before the dog succumbed to age and cancer. Andino wasn’t really sure, but Gio hadn’t given him a choice.
No, his father simply passed over the whimpering puppy and explained how he came about him. Snaps had been bred from a puppy mill, apparently. The fools who had been breeding the dogs did so with the purpose of using them to fight. Snaps had been nothing more than fodder to the dogs around him. If he survived, he would live to fight. If an older dog killed him during the period when the dogs weren’t being watched, then so be it.
Another litter would be born.
Gio didn’t like dog fighting—he wouldn’t stand for it. When he’d found out his men were involved in it, he ended it, rescued the pup in the process, and brought it to Andino.
Now, Andino was grateful.
Then, he’d wondered what in the hell he would do with a dog like Snaps.
Running his fingers through the dog’s fur again, Andino could feel the raised ridges of some of Snaps’ old scars under his fur. No one could see them, but Andino remembered vividly what the marks looked like when his dog was just a pup, struggling to eat solid food and needing Andino to feed him liquids through a syringe. Yeah, Snaps had been that young. He wasn’t so young or incapable anymore.
“Snaps,” Andino said, noting the fact that the trail had cleared of people.
His dig’s ears twitched, but Snaps never looked up.
“You ready?” Andino asked.
Snaps snorted, his nose pressing to the ground. Andino flipped the stick he’d been walking with. It was maybe six inches thick and a foot long. A broken tree branch that had fallen on the path and he picked it up as they walked.
“High,” Andino ordered.
Snaps’ head flew up, his gaze trained straight ahead. Good dog , Andino praised silently. All that time and training paid off. Snaps loved to learn.
“Get it,” Andino said fast.
The stick flew from his hand in a flash of movement. Snaps probably hadn’t even seen his master throw the stick, but the dog was already going after it. To most people, Snaps looked lazy as fuck. Andino didn’t mind letting people believe that, either.
Snaps was twenty feet in front of the stick before it even began to drop from the air to fall to the ground. In a blink, the dog turned and charged forward. Snaps’ two paws pressed hard into the paved walk and then the dog lunged into the air.
Six feet high, the dog caught the stick. Snaps’ jaw clamped around the wood with an audible crunch. The stick splintered into nothing but scraps. Snaps landed to the ground near silently, shaking his head at the same time. What was left of the stick fell from the dog’s mouth to the ground before Snaps was back at Andino’s side.
Chuffing, Snaps waited for his praise. He always waited. He never pressed for it.
“Good dog,” Andino said.
Snaps pushed his large head into Andino’s palm. Andino stroked the dog back.
When Andino’s life felt like it was going too fast, Snaps always managed to slow it down. Today was no exception. But even worse was when Andino’s life suddenly felt like it wasn’t his own to control, as if he was now someone else’s toy to command, Snaps was still the same.
His dog.
His companion.
After the news Andino learned the day before, he was still trying to adjust to what it all meant. A boss, that’s what he was intended to be. He’d decided it didn’t necessarily feel wrong, but the things he enjoyed most about his life, like being solitary, would have to change.
He wasn’t ready for that at all.
“Whoa, that was crazy,” came a soft, sensual voice to Andino’s left.
He spun fast on his heel, alarmed that Snaps hadn’t alerted him to the fact someone was around.
And then his father showed up at his door one day with a scarred puppy in his hands when Andino was just twenty-two. Maybe the little pup had reminded Andino’s father of the rottie he’d had all those years ago before the dog succumbed to age and cancer. Andino wasn’t really sure, but Gio hadn’t given him a choice.
No, his father simply passed over the whimpering puppy and explained how he came about him. Snaps had been bred from a puppy mill, apparently. The fools who had been breeding the dogs did so with the purpose of using them to fight. Snaps had been nothing more than fodder to the dogs around him. If he survived, he would live to fight. If an older dog killed him during the period when the dogs weren’t being watched, then so be it.
Another litter would be born.
Gio didn’t like dog fighting—he wouldn’t stand for it. When he’d found out his men were involved in it, he ended it, rescued the pup in the process, and brought it to Andino.
Now, Andino was grateful.
Then, he’d wondered what in the hell he would do with a dog like Snaps.
Running his fingers through the dog’s fur again, Andino could feel the raised ridges of some of Snaps’ old scars under his fur. No one could see them, but Andino remembered vividly what the marks looked like when his dog was just a pup, struggling to eat solid food and needing Andino to feed him liquids through a syringe. Yeah, Snaps had been that young. He wasn’t so young or incapable anymore.
“Snaps,” Andino said, noting the fact that the trail had cleared of people.
His dig’s ears twitched, but Snaps never looked up.
“You ready?” Andino asked.
Snaps snorted, his nose pressing to the ground. Andino flipped the stick he’d been walking with. It was maybe six inches thick and a foot long. A broken tree branch that had fallen on the path and he picked it up as they walked.
“High,” Andino ordered.
Snaps’ head flew up, his gaze trained straight ahead. Good dog , Andino praised silently. All that time and training paid off. Snaps loved to learn.
“Get it,” Andino said fast.
The stick flew from his hand in a flash of movement. Snaps probably hadn’t even seen his master throw the stick, but the dog was already going after it. To most people, Snaps looked lazy as fuck. Andino didn’t mind letting people believe that, either.
Snaps was twenty feet in front of the stick before it even began to drop from the air to fall to the ground. In a blink, the dog turned and charged forward. Snaps’ two paws pressed hard into the paved walk and then the dog lunged into the air.
Six feet high, the dog caught the stick. Snaps’ jaw clamped around the wood with an audible crunch. The stick splintered into nothing but scraps. Snaps landed to the ground near silently, shaking his head at the same time. What was left of the stick fell from the dog’s mouth to the ground before Snaps was back at Andino’s side.
Chuffing, Snaps waited for his praise. He always waited. He never pressed for it.
“Good dog,” Andino said.
Snaps pushed his large head into Andino’s palm. Andino stroked the dog back.
When Andino’s life felt like it was going too fast, Snaps always managed to slow it down. Today was no exception. But even worse was when Andino’s life suddenly felt like it wasn’t his own to control, as if he was now someone else’s toy to command, Snaps was still the same.
His dog.
His companion.
After the news Andino learned the day before, he was still trying to adjust to what it all meant. A boss, that’s what he was intended to be. He’d decided it didn’t necessarily feel wrong, but the things he enjoyed most about his life, like being solitary, would have to change.
He wasn’t ready for that at all.
“Whoa, that was crazy,” came a soft, sensual voice to Andino’s left.
He spun fast on his heel, alarmed that Snaps hadn’t alerted him to the fact someone was around.
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