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Brett casually reached into his pocket. The escaping bartender suddenly jerked and fell to the ground with a twitch.
“What did you do?”
“I never could understand why an owner would put a shock collar on his dog,” he said. “And this guy had them on all of his fight dogs.”
“He has dogs in the bar?”
“Among other animals.”
“And they fight each other?”
He nodded.
“A blood sport?” I questioned, jamming my hand into his pocket, pulling out the collar control.
His eyes showed surprise.
“To the death?” I questioned again.
“Would you want to be alive after that?” he asked, attempting to bring me back into a comforting hug.
I was having none of it. Grown men beating the tar out of each other for money was their business. But when they bring in defenseless animals to fight to the death,
