Trinity: Military War Dog (4 page)

              Two                

Texas Hill Country

Y
ou’ll be tempted to ignore this opportunity, but those marks on your hand have shown you trust that beautiful animal who saved your life. Bring her out. Let her decide if this is right for your team.”

Nerves on end, Heath climbed from his truck. Trinity bounded from the bench seat onto the grass that collided with a ten-foot chain-link fence. He pushed the door closed and took in the property that rolled out on each side, as well as the white luxury SUV he’d parked beside.

Trees, some barren of their leaves and others thickly outfitted, and brambles lined the east. A half mile west, a rocky edifice rose a good thirty feet straight up. Twenty feet from his position, within the fenced area, sat training equipment. A complete agility and tactical course set up. Cedar trees hogged the perimeter of the fence. But not a person in sight. He’d half expected someone to emerge from the ranch house perched at the top of the slight incline, but that hadn’t happened either.

What on earth?

Rubbing his knuckles along his lips, he hesitated at the unlocked gate. He glanced back down the almost mile-long dirt road that led to the black wrought-iron gate. Sun streamed through the lettering in the arch: A B
REED
A
PART
. Who was behind this elaborate setup?

“Hello? Anyone here?”

A bitter January wind answered, creaking the branches. The training facility held too much draw. He let Trinity take in the settings, her attention also focused on the training field. She sniffed along the fence line. “What do you think, Trin?”

She returned to him. Trinity swiveled her head back to the front, her black-and-amber coat sparkling in the sun. He smoothed a hand along her dense fur. Her ears perked and her body went rigid.

Heath slanted a look in the direction in which she’d made a hit. A mass of white-blond curls dipped into a beam of sunlight streaming through the cedars as a woman emerged from one of the house-shaped training structures. She glanced back inside and stalled. After much coaxing, a yellow Labrador lumbered from the building.

Anticipation rippled through Trinity’s coat, her muscles taut, all but begging for permission to meet the new dog.

“I know you?” Heath asked. This woman with her gun-shy dog didn’t seem the type to know much about training, let alone his past.

She straightened and came toward the gate. “No, do I know you?” She glanced down at her yellow Lab, who sat off to the side facing away from them, his expressive eyes conveying his skittishness. He hung his head, then flattened himself to the ground.

“You’re the one who invited me here?”

“No, actually,” she said with a smile. “I’m not. My friend Khat lives here with her brother. They invited me.” At the gate, she slipped through and waited for her dog, who had given up about halfway across the yard and lain down. She let out a sigh and turned to Heath with an extended hand. “Aspen Courtland.”

“Heath Daniels. You say you know who owns this place?”

Clap!

Heath jerked toward the wraparound porch and stilled at the figure that emerged from the shadows. “Khouri? No way.”

The low, slow chuckle of a man he knew in the Army rolled through the air as the man strode off the porch. With two legs. How … how was that possible? Heath had been there when a Coke-can-turned-IED shattered the guy’s leg and career beyond repair. Just a few months before Heath lost his career, too.

“Hello, Aspen. Khaterah got called out. She’s sorry she couldn’t be here to greet you.”

“No problem,” Courtland said.

Wearing a red knit cap over long brown hair and sporting a thick beard as if he’d never left the field, Jibril Khouri grinned as he met Heath’s gaze again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Pulling the guy into a half hug, half back-patting embrace, Heath scrambled to get his bearings. “You always knew how to get my attention.”

“Yes, but you always got the girls. We had to distract you so the rest of us would have a chance.”

Heath shirked the tease and ran a hand over the back of his head, across the scar that changed everything. “Yeah, well, things change.”

“So they do.” Sobered, Jibril stepped back with another pat on Heath’s shoulder, then bent and offered a hand to Trinity. “Hello, girl. Remember me?”

Trinity sniffed his hand, then turned in a circle, her focus locked on the yellow Lab.

“Ah, Trinity has the right idea,” Jibril said with a laugh. “Let’s go into the training area while we wait for our last recruit.”

Uncertainty rooted Heath to the ground. Too many unexplained variables. Too many unknowns. “Khouri, what is this?”

“Now is not the time to be skittish, my friend.” Jibril smiled. “Trust me, just as I trusted you the day Trinity saved my life. Yes?”

Stuffing his frustration and uneasiness, Heath gave a curt nod and followed Jibril, Aspen, and Trinity into the fenced-off area.

“Ah, this is Talon.” Jibril squatted beside the Lab, who lifted his head and cast furtive glances at Jibril. “All the dogs and handlers invited to the ranch today are former military war or working dogs. Talon here has seen more combat than I have. You’ll meet Beowulf and Timbrel Hogan soon—they’re former Navy.”

With a huff, Talon slid down to the ground, propped his lower jaw on his front paws, and let his gaze bounce over the yard. Those eyebrows did more work than his whole body, tracking Trinity around the training grounds. He looked like he was as through with the military as it was with him.

You and me both, buddy
.

Tension bunched at the base of Heath’s neck. He stretched it. “So.” He shifted his attention to Aspen. “You’ve seen combat?” That was hard to believe.

“I was Air Force, but no, I haven’t seen combat.” She must’ve seen his confusion. “My brother was his handler. He went MIA and Talon was declared ‘excess.’”

MIA often meant dead. Not enough body parts to ship home. Heath now understood the Lab’s reaction. Trinity had pretty much done the same thing when they’d been separated, well, except she became borderline aggressive and noncompliant. Talon was … gone. As if he’d checked out.

“So you adopted him?” Heath and every handler before and since sent up shouts of praise at a new resolution signed into law by President Clinton a few years back, which allowed dogs to live out the remainder of their years rather than being euthanized after the military decided they were done with the dogs. “I know your brother would be glad if he were alive.”

“Austin’s not dead.” Blue eyes flamed. “He’s
missing.”

Heath took about five mental steps away from her and that volley of anger.

Trinity nosed Talon’s ears, walked circles around him, sniffed, investigated, sized up the new guy. He showed neither aggression—via a low growl to tell Trin to stand down—nor did he move away.

Arms folded, Aspen studied him. “What happened to you?”

“IED in the mountains.” Heath held up the right hand Trinity had permanently marked. “Trinity saved my life, but the concussion from the blast and the shrapnel that sliced my thick skull put me out.”

Squinting against the sun, Aspen nodded to Trinity. “And her?”

That was a story he didn’t deserve, the undying loyalty and devotion of a creature with a pure heart. “When they sent me stateside, she refused to work with other handlers. So they retired her—gave me first dibs.”

Aspen wrinkled her nose and looked at Jibril. “I’ll be honest. I’m not sure about this.”

“It will take time, but I think it will help him, and you.”

“I’m not sure Talon—” Aspen froze as the yellow Lab ducked at the mention of his name. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy.” She rushed to his side and knelt. “It’s okay,” she crooned as she stroked his head.

“Don’t baby him.”

Aspen looked up at Heath. “What?”

“He’s going to read your soft voice as a reward for cowering. He’s a trained soldier, a warrior, a killer. Even though some people don’t like the sound of that, it’s true. He’s trained to take down terrorists, men with bad intentions, and rout explosives from hot spots. He’s not a pampered pet. Don’t treat him like one. Give him some respect.”

“But he’s scared.”

“I guarantee while your brother loved that animal, he didn’t baby him. They were partners in combat, not out for a playdate.”

She let out a small grunt with a smile. “Point taken.”

A dog bounded out of a Jeep and through the gate.
Crap, that isn’t a dog. It’s the Hound of Hell
.

“Ah, Timbrel. Welcome! I am Jibril Khouri.”

Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and hiking boots, the woman exuded attitude as she tugged down the brim of her baseball cap. The wind teased the brown ponytail dangling out the back. “I never miss a party.”

Something in Heath’s stomach churned. Young. Immature. What was she doing with a beast of a dog like that? Hadn’t Jibril said all dogs were former MWDs? This one, too?

“Beowulf is as handsome as ever,” Aspen said.

“I wouldn’t have any other man.” Miss Jeep sauntered through and latched the gate.

Heath shoved his attention back to the drool-bombing dog. No wonder the woman named him Beowulf. Or maybe it was because of the dog’s good looks. Trinity, ears flattened, had her hackles up as the beast let out a bark that seemed to send ripples through the fabric of time and space. Lip curled, canines exposed, Trinity held her ground as she watched the beast out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” Heath called to the owner. “Get your dog under control.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. He’s just having fun.” Timbrel laughed. “I sure hope your girl is fixed.”

Heath’s heart pounded. “Don’t blame me if your dog goes home with a chunk of his throat missing.”

Timbrel seemed to feed off his warning. “May the best dog win, eh?”

“Timmy,” Aspen said, her voice soft but reproachful.

“Okay, fine.” With one snap of her fingers, Timbrel brought her mountain of a brown-brindled mutt to her side. She bounced her shoulders with a smirk. “If only I could control men with such ease.”

Heath wanted to laugh, but something about this chick grated on him. “If you approach relationships the way you do him, I bet you’re single.”

“Men have two things on their minds: money, which they’re not getting from me, and sex, which they’re also not getting from me.” She crouched and kissed the mutt, whose jowls were coated in slobber. With a slurping noise that made Heath cringe from six feet away, Beowulf returned the love. “Beo wants nothing but to be with me. He protects me and won’t leave me, unless”—she stood and gave a flick of her wrist at thigh level—“I tell him to.”

Despite his broad, stocky build, indicating strength not speed, Beowulf sprinted down the field and skidded to a stop, waiting. “Now, see? If getting rid of guys could be as easy …”

Heath shook his head. “No wonder they put you out of the Navy.”

Her eyes flamed but she didn’t miss a beat. “Want to see what he does to men I don’t like?”

Heath chuckled. “No thanks. My girl would take your dog down, and I’d hate to see you lose the only ‘guy’ willing to kiss you.”

Her eyebrow arched, challenge scratched into her expression. “Oh, Prince Charming.” Her caustic, hollow laugh bounced off the obstacle course equipment. “I think you’re going to eat those words and beg for mercy.”