Even without wearing a uniform, Gabe had the appearance of the law—short brown hair, clean-shaven, hard-set stern jaw. And a cop’s wary cynicism in the sharp blue eyes staring at the dog. “I think you have something to share, bro.”

Bull grinned at the order for information.

The oldest of Mako’s sons by a year, Gabe had always been their leader. Even as youngsters, Gabe would give the orders, then Bull would muster the troops—the other boys—and resources. Sneaky, tender-hearted Caz would handle recon and deal with injuries. Always more of a loner, Hawk was their pilot—and sniper. The years in various military forces had only strengthened those roles.

And speaking of the devils, there came his two other brothers, across the deck and into the house.

As Hawk and Caz stepped in, Gryff caught their attention—and backed up until his hind end was against Bull’s legs.

A year younger than Bull, shorter and slenderer than the others, Caz smiled at Gryff, his brown eyes kind. “There’s a pretty boy.”

Bull glanced at his last brother. Beneath the scars and tats and blond beard, Hawk wore a scowl, of course, since he reacted to change the way he would a bunch of insurgents breaking into his home.

Not a problem. There were ways to scale Hawk’s guarded castle.

Catching the dog’s eyes, Bull made a high, almost inaudible ooo-ooo-ooo whine.

Raising his muzzle, Gryff imitated the sound with a most pitiful, mournful howl.

“Ay, pobrecito.” Caz went down on one knee and held out a hand. Trained as a medic by the Special Forces, now a nurse practitioner, Caz had an especially soft heart for pets.

Still pressed against Bull, Gryff started to wag his tail.

“Go say hi, buddy.” Bull motioned toward Caz, and Gryff advanced…carefully. A sniff, a caress, and Caz had himself a new furry friend.

“Where’d he come from?” Gabe also knelt and held out a hand to be assessed.

“In the park. Some assholes were trying to get him to fight another dog—and Gryff wasn’t into it. The one who bought him was told he was a great fighting dog.”

“He’s neutered,” Caz pointed out.

“Yep. When I broke up the fight and busted the humans up a little”—his brothers grinned—“the owner left Gryff behind. I couldn’t leave the pup there—and we could use a dog.”

Hawk snorted his disagreement.

Rubbing his jaw, Gabe scowled. “I’ll check around. Make sure we’re not having any dog fights around here.”

Bull had counted on that. Rescue’s Chief of Police took his job seriously.

“He’s torn up a bit.” Caz was already checking the dog’s injuries as Gryff nosed Gabe’s hand for more petting.

“Yeah. The other dog ripped up Gryff’s paw, got him a few times on the neck and shoulder. He’s hurting, Doc.”