Page 94 of Eagle

“Well, the kid’s going to have a lot of uncles and aunts to help you guys when you need it.”

Acknowledging Mac’s comment with a nod, Wolfe said, “Counting on it. Okay, enough of this. Let’s move on.”

When Wolfe pinned his eyes on me, I knew he wanted an update on the good doctor in Bar Harbor, Mitchell Ryan. Bear and I had hunted him down months ago, had told him exactly what he could expect if he didn’t step away from everything having to do with dog fighting. It hadn’t taken much to shake the little weasel up, and I’d been watching him ever since to make sure he complied.

“My contacts in Bar Harbor say he’s behaving himself. Went there a couple of days ago to check it out for myself. Followed him around all fucking day. Boring as hell.” I shrugged. “Far as I can tell, he’s given up his hobby.”

Wolfe’s eyes swung to Bear. “And Lawrence Wilson?”

“Sneaky little bastard has dropped off the radar, Prez. Not even working at the shipping yard anymore.”

“Maybe his squealing about the Maniacs got him killed,” Knuckles quipped, sipping on his coffee.

I could tell that Wolfe didn’t like that news. Not that he cared if Lawrence had been offed. He liked to keep tabs on troublemakers who caused shit in our town, and especially with us. So far, the truce between us and the Maniacs was working out. We weren’t friends like we were with the Dirty Bandits, we didn’t hang out together, but we were respecting boundaries and staying out of each other’s way.

I offered my opinion. “More likely he’s gone somewhere where he’s not known and not being watched.”

“Long as the asshole doesn’t cause us anymore shit.” The conversation was over when Wolfe moved on to announce, “Second Chances is having an event next weekend. Told Lola we’d be around to help. She’s reached her limit with dogs right now and needs to find homes for some of them.”

Mac asked, “How many?”

“At least fifteen. Gonna have the prospects hit some of the neighboring towns with flyers to draw in interested folks looking for a dog.”

I guessed that Ella was probably the one doing up the flyers, because she liked doing that shit when she wasn’t writing.

“Are we going to vet them?”

The words were barely out of Tank’s mouth when Bear growled, “Fuck yes.”

“Lola and the girls are going to come up with some fun activities for the kids. They’re planning to sell baked goods. We’re going to have experts on Pitbulls to answer questions.”

“That’s a good idea,” Knuckles said to Lynx’s comments.

“We could sell hotdogs and hamburgers,” Buck mentioned.

“Good idea, Brother. Anyway, plan your weekend accordingly. It will be all day Saturday and Sunday.”

“Hey, what about a kissing booth with the old ladies?”

The look on Mac’s face revealed that he was joking, but I responded anyway, “That’s a hard no, asshole.” Bear and Wolfe glared at him as if he’d grown another head, but he laughed our reactions away.

There was a folder on the table in front of Wolfe. He opened it and glanced down. “Aunt May gave me the end of the month report. According to the figures I’m seeing, The Animal’s Den was down a bit, but the salvage yard and garage both did good. Our share of your individual businesses was about the same as last month. Our local bounty hunters—” He paused to look at Mac and Buck. “—brought in a huge bonus for capturing that escaped serial killer down in Florida.”

“We prefer to be called ‘fugitive recovery agents,’” Mac smirked.

It was actually the correct term.

Some of us rolled our eyes and groaned.

Mac caught my reaction and asked with a snicker, “What did your investigative services bring in, asswipe?”

My partner, Lynx, answered for me. “Hey, we can’t help it if there aren’t enough cheating spouses in Maine to keep us busy.”

Everyone laughed.

“Last but not least,” Wolfe continued when the noise died down, “had a meeting with Rickers. He’s starting to come around.”

“’Bout fucking time,” Tank muttered contemptuously. “Can’t stand the fucker.”

---