Hero of Mine

This one is for my brothers—blood or not, you're still family;

Wyatt, Brian, Randy, Chris, Jason, Mark, Doug, and Dave.

Love you all.

T
YLER
B
EST DIDN
'
T
believe in fate.

Fate was an excuse people who'd experienced really bad shit or really astounding luck used in order to explain how their lives tended to twist and turn. Fate was a fantasy.

Tyler was a realist. He didn't rely on some imaginary force to direct him. He'd taken chances and gotten knocked on his ass a few times, but he kept going because that's what life was. You didn't give up when it got hard.

Even in the face of devastating loss.

Tyler stared at the picture of Rex, his military dog, and the ache in his heart was raw, even eight months later. Rex had been his for three years before getting killed in combat. While Tyler was overseas, away from his family and friends, the dog had been his best friend, bringing him great comfort. When he'd lost Rex, he'd almost quit working with dogs. It had been difficult to be around them.

Yet, here he was, waiting to be led back to the “last day” dogs at the Paws and Causes Shelter. It was his first time here, as it was relatively new. Most of the time he visited Front Street Animal Shelter or the one off of Bradshaw, but new rescues and shelters were being added to the program every day. Ever since he'd become the head trainer for the Alpha Dog Training Program, a nonprofit created to help strengthen the connection between military personnel and their community, he'd become the last hope for a lot of dogs. If they passed their temperament test, they'd join the program. Not all of them did, and on those days it was hard to remember all the lives the program saved. It was hard to walk away from a dog's big soulful eyes when Tyler knew the only outcome was a needle filled with pink liquid death, but he couldn't save them all.

Just like he couldn't save Rex.

“Sergeant Best?” a woman called from behind the reception desk.

Tyler stood up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Yes, ma'am.”

“You can go on through. Our tech, Dani, is waiting in the back to show you around. Just straight back; you'll see the double doors.”

“Thank you.” Tyler opened the door, assaulted by high-pitched barks of excitement and fear. As he passed by the kennels, he looked through, studying the dogs of all shapes and sizes. He wasn't sure why he was so melancholy today, but it had been coming on strong.

He pushed through the double doors and immediately realized the man and woman inside were arguing. Loudly.

“No, he has more time. I talked to Dr. Lynch, and he promised to give him until the end of the day in case his owners claim him.” This was shouted by the woman with her back to him, her blonde ponytail swinging with every hand gesture.

“Don't be naïve. You've been here long enough to know that he won't be claimed.” This was said by the thin, balding man in the lab coat, who was pushing sixty and had the cold, cynical look of someone who'd been doing his job too long. Tyler had seen it on the faces of veterans who had found a way to steel themselves against the horrors that haunted them. But once you shut that part off, it was hard to find it again. “Even if they come looking, they'll just tell you to put him down anyway. If they had the money to pay for his care, then they could afford a proper fence. All you're doing is putting off the inevitable and wasting valuable pain meds.”

He tried to sidestep the blonde, who was a good head shorter, but she planted herself right in his path. When she spoke, her voice was a low, deadly whisper. “If you make one more move toward that cage, I will body check you so hard you'll forget your own name.”

Tyler's eyebrows shot up, and he crossed his arms, hoping like hell the guy tested her. He really wanted to see her Hulk out.

“I will have you fired and sue you for everything you have if you touch me, you disrespectful little bitch.”

Tyler opened his mouth to defend her, but Blondie beat him to it by laughing. “Good luck with that. Of course, I could always say that you were being an über-perv, like with Mandy in reception. I'm guessing that if you have another complaint filed against you, you'll be the one they ask to leave.”

The older man paled, and his lips compressed into an angry white line.

“Yeah, I thought that would get your attention,” she said, sounding rather smug. “Now, I suggest you leave this room, because even if I have to camp here until five o'clock, I am not leaving. And if you try to put Fugly down again before his time is up, I'll have a camera phone and a news story with your name right in the headline.”

Fugly? She was protecting an animal named Fugly?

The man made a sound of disgust and headed toward another door away from Tyler. Once he was gone, Tyler stood there for a moment, waiting for her to notice him.

She ran her hands over her face and released a shaky sigh before she turned around.

And froze when she spotted him.

Tyler took in her heart-shaped face and pointed chin, the green of her darkly lashed eyes, and her rosebud mouth wrapped into an O of surprise. She had a sweet girl-next-door look to her, and suddenly, his day brightened a bit.

“Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?” she asked.

Damn, that was a boatload of hostility in one pint-sized bundle.

“I didn't mean to, ma'am. I was told to come on back. Wasn't expecting to almost break up a brawl.” He gave her his best smile, the one his friends said would disarm even the angriest woman alive.

All she did was blink at him several times before she groaned. “You're the guy from Alpha Dog?”

Tyler held out his hand to her. “Sergeant Tyler Best.”

She took his hand, and he was surprised by the firm grip. “Danielle Hill, but everyone calls me Dani.”

“You can call me Tyler or Best, whatever you prefer.”

All she did was nod, so either she missed the flirtatious edge in his tone or she just wasn't interested. Either way, Tyler was a little disappointed by her reaction.

Dani pointed to the far wall of cages, oblivious to his disgruntlement. “Those are all the dogs whose time here expires. Feel free to take them out into the holding room”—she indicated a white door that had a sign reading HOLDING ROOM— “and do whatever you gotta do.”

Turning her back on him, she squatted down in front of a large cage and opened it. Tyler bent down to see a massive gray dog with black spots and stripes. The dog lifted his head slightly, his floppy ears pricking as she cooed.

“Hey, Fugly, how you doing, bud?” Dani's hand glided over the dog's head and neck, and he relaxed back on his side with a whimper.

“What happened to him?” Tyler asked.

“Someone hit him with their car. A yard crew behind them stopped and picked him up, brought him here, but there's only so much I can do. The X-rays show he needs leg surgery, but my regular doctor is off today, and the prick subbing for him won't do a damn thing to help.”

Tyler came closer, squatting behind her. The dog lifted his head and met Tyler's gaze with soft green-gray eyes. Rex's eyes had been a dark brown, nearly black, but the expression in this dog's eyes was still the same—filled with trust. This dog wasn't afraid of humans; he expected them to help him, to ease his pain.

Tyler's chest clenched. Although he'd trained several dogs since Rex, he hadn't experienced this pull, this kinship. This big, gray dog was calling to him, and he couldn't ignore it, no matter how crazy it seemed.

“Release him to me.”

Dani spun his way so fast, she nearly knocked him back. “What?”

“Release him to me, and I'll run him down to my veterinarian. They'll go over the extent of his injuries and let me know what he needs.”

Dani stared at him, her gaze wary. “Why would you do that? And what about the dogs you're supposed to evaluate?”

What the hell
was
he doing? He wasn't even sure the dog was trainable, let alone what his injuries were.

But he could still remember Rex's body as it cooled and stiffened in his arms. There had been nothing he could do to help Rex, but he could help this dog.

“If you will run interference for me with that guy, I'll drive . . . ” Tyler hesitated to call the dog the bullshit name. “I'm sorry; he needs a better name than Fugly.”

Dani laughed, but her voice shook a bit as though she might cry. “The workers that brought him in were calling him that.”

“Not anymore. Whatever his name is, I'll drive him up there, drop him off, and come back here. If his owners show up, you can give me a call.”

“I don't have your number.” She closed the cage door and stood up.

“The front desk has it, but do you have your phone on you?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'll go get it.” She left the room, and Tyler studied the dog. He was probably a good hundred and fifty pounds, which wouldn't be a problem to carry, but if he had more injuries they couldn't see, Tyler was concerned about jostling him around and doing more damage. He'd ask Dani if they had a stretcher when she got back.

She came back through the doors and handed him her phone. “Here.”

Tyler stood up, staring at the screen saver of a smiling toddler with his arms wrapped around Dani's neck. Well, shit, that sent whatever attraction he'd had crashing to the ground. He had three rules for hooking up: Be honest from the get-go, no sleeping over, and definitely no repeats within the same week. And then there were the types of women he steered clear from.

No crazies. No attached or married women. And definitely no single moms.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He had watched his own mom get screwed over enough times to know that if you weren't ready, just stay far away.

Clearing his throat, he swiped his thumb over to her contacts and put in his information. “Cute kid.”

“Thank you.”

“He yours?” he asked.

“Yes, he's mine.”

Was it just him, or did she sound defensive?

“How old is he?” Tyler handed the phone back to her, disappointed that she was off limits.

“He's almost two.” Dani slipped her phone into her pocket. Her curt responses told him she didn't want to discuss her child with a complete stranger, and he couldn't blame her.

Apparently, he was just a nosy, interfering bastard today.

“About Fugly. I was going to just carry him out, but I'm afraid of causing more damage.”

“He doesn't have internal bleeding, at least not that showed up on the X-rays. Most of the impact from the car occurred on his back end. Plus, I gave him a dose of pain meds when he first came in, and it should last him a while.”

“Okay then, you get the door, and I'll get the dog.”

Dani unlocked the cage again and unhooked the dog's IV, wrapping the tubing over the mobile pole by the cage. As gently as he could, Tyler reached in and picked up the dog, who tried to thrash for half a second before Tyler spoke firmly. “Stay.”

The dog stilled, and Tyler stood up with him in his arms. “It's gonna be okay, boy.”

Dani opened the doors as they went, but once they got to the lobby, Lab Coat Guy spotted them and spluttered, “What do you think you're doing?”

Dani puffed up. “He's taking the dog to his vet, since you won't do anything to help him.”

Tyler had to admire the set of balls on Dani as every eye in the room swung on Lab Coat, pinning him with accusation.

“I didn't say anything like that. I told you his prognosis wasn't good and he was suffering.”

“And I wanted a second opinion, so we're getting one.”

Tyler grinned, following Dani out the door. Pausing for half a second, Tyler gave Lab Coat a warning look. “I haven't had a chance to evaluate the dogs yet. They'd better all be there when I get back.”

Lab Coat swallowed hard, and as she closed the door, Dani laughed. “I think he just pissed himself.”

Tyler liked her laugh, light and tinkling, like Christmas bells. “You're pretty terrifying yourself.”

“I don't let bullies push me around,” she said. “Where are your keys?”

“Right pocket.”

When the warmth of her hand pushed into his pocket and grabbed his keys, he couldn't help his physical reaction. It was just too close to the groin, and the way she pressed with seeking fingers against him was enough to give him a semi. Despite it being October, it was still in the mideighties in Sacramento, and Tyler could feel beads of sweat dribbling down the sides of his face as she continued her search; he told himself it was just the heat getting to him.

Luckily, she hadn't seemed to notice, and once she found the keys, she unlocked the doors and pulled open the back door of the Alpha Dog van.

“Hang on.” She ran back inside while Tyler waited, the dog's weight making his arms burn.

Suddenly, she was back and climbing past him into the backseat of the van.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm coming with you. You're going to need someone to hold onto him while you drive, and besides,” she said, her expression a soft mask of worry, “I don't want him to be alone and scared.”

Tyler nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. He'd been rescuing dogs his whole life, much to his parents' exasperation. He remembered the first dog he'd brought home at nine, a skinny black dog with matted fur and a rank odor. When his mom had told him he couldn't bring the dog inside, he'd teared up and told her, “But, Mom, he's so hungry and scared.” His mom had caved like a big old softy, and his dad left, coming back with food, bowls, and a collar and leash. He'd named the dog Barney, and he'd been the start of Tyler's love of dogs.

The fact that Dani appeared to have the same passion made him like her more. Cute, funny, didn't take shit from anyone? Plus, he'd bet his last dollar she was great in bed.

But the tiny, smiling little boy on her phone screen was like a big fat stop sign. He didn't do single moms—at least, not when he knew about the kid.