Chapter Two

Levi

Conroy strode toward the end of the building. “I think you’re going to like Casper. A dog so stealthy he’s like a ghost.”

Goose leaned toward Levi and said under his breath, “Isn’t Casper a friendly ghost who likes to show himself?”

Levi tipped his head down to hide his grin.

Conroy glanced over his shoulder, “Casper is a Malinois out of the Czech Republic.”

“You got him as a pup, or you bought him once he’d finished his first round of training?” Goose asked as he moved up to walk side by side with Conroy.

“We get them as soon as they’re done nursing. Our program begins at the beginning.”

“The paperwork didn’t indicate which command language they learn,” Levi said.

“All American. We only speak American at Beast Mode.”

The group circled the outside of a steel building that reminded Levi of a municipal airport hangar.

Conroy stopped at the back corner.

From the layout, the field stretching out in front of them was designed for bitework exercises.

Here, next to the building, was a path of thick mats. Conroy pointed up toward the roofline, some two stories overhead, where a bar extended, a rope dangled, and a hot pink tennis ball hung from that rope. Conroy pulled his finger down to direct the group’s attention to the horizon.

Beast Mode obviously set this up to open with a bang. Some kind of show was heading their way. But right now, nothing was out there but a line of green grass touching blue sky.

“Levi,” Conroy said. “Tell me your capacity handling dogs before you signed on with Cerberus.”

“SEALs.” Levi didn’t need to sell himself. That he worked for Iniquus’s Cerberus Tactical K9 was credential enough. He understood the need to prove he wasn’t a newbie or a wannabe when it came to a trained working dog. These K9s had lethal potential by nature and nurture. If you didn’t know what you were doing, it was a liability.

And while Levi didn’t know the laws around it, it seemed to him that if Beast Mode sold a weapons-ready K9 to Joe down the street, there was the potential for bad outcomes and lawsuits.

Heck, even with exquisite control, military-trained K9s—well, any K9—could act out.

The training was supposed to mitigate that problem.

Unfortunately, Conroy wasn’t willing to divulge that training. And that was a concern.

“SEALs, huh?” Conroy squinted into the distance, then pulled his phone from his pocket to check for a message. There didn’t seem to be one waiting for him.

Levi stood wide-legged with his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s right.”

“How’d you land with Iniquus?” Conroy slipped his phone into his pocket, then gave it a pat.

“I heard from friends who worked there that a new K9 team was spooling up.” Levi was leaving Navy ranks at a golden moment. Openings with Iniquus were few and far between. While they hired their operators from the lists of retired special forces, just having those credentials on a resume didn’t mean much. It was invitation-only for a chance to sit down with Iniquus Command and show that you made the grade.

Levi had served alongside a handful of former SEALs who had joined Iniquus after leaving the Navy earlier than he had, each for their own reasons.

His brothers had talked about Iniquus’ ethos and integrity, how they coalesced as a family that all watched out for each other.

Those who were used to the adrenaline and push of an operator’s world often had a tough time adapting to the normal pace of life once they left the service. So, the familiar structure and ongoing training of similar tactical skills made for a soft landing when moving from the military to the civilian world.

His brothers who were now at Iniquus had honored Levi by submitting his name.

And now, he was at the beginning of this new life.

Conroy had been shuffling his feet as though he was trying to come up with a topic of conversation.

When he’d brought his finger down from the pink ball, Levi imagined Conroy had expected Casper and a handler to come charging toward them. But with the field still empty, he was stuck with, “Reaper said a nose and a bite.” Conroy squinted at the horizon. “I know your team picked Casper and Diabla to see today. But I’m not sure why you all landed on those two dogs. If I knew a bit more about your needs out in the field, I might be able to make a suggestion.”

Just like Conroy wanted to hold his cards to his chest about Beast Mode training, so did Cerberus.

What did they do? Anything required to keep their client safe. Saving kidnap victims, close protection, pulling people out of mudslides or from under earthquake wreckage, Levi’s job was basically SEAL-shit but for non-military client needs.

“It can run the gamut,” Reaper answered Conroy. “If they have a keen nose and a strong bite, if they can work off lead following commands, my training team can work on specifics.”

Conroy’s phone beeped, and he checked the readout. “Pete’s bringing Casper around now. I think you’re going to like him.” Conroy lifted a bladed hand and looked past the sun to a field. “They were out for his morning jog. They’re coming up now.” Conroy seemed relieved he didn’t have to make any more small talk.

Some folks were like that; they just preferred to keep to themselves.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, the Cerberus team watched as Pete and Casper pounded toward them.

Slender with a marathoner’s body, Pete’s black hair was damp with sweat. His T-shirt had more wet spots than dry. He looked like he’d been pushing hard.

Casper looked like he was just getting started.

It was curious that they had Casper running before the inspection.

Levi thought that didn’t bode well.

From this setup, he’d guess that Casper was hyperdrive instead of the high drive they were looking for.

While Levi was willing to change his mind, and he was giving Beast Mode the benefit of the doubt, this didn’t sit right with him.

A long, hard run could wear out a dog enough that it could stay on task and make a good presentation.

Levi bet that if they showed up tomorrow, Casper would be running before they got there.

In Afghanistan, Levi had been the recipient of that trick at the military kennels. When Levi arrived, he thought he was signing out an easy-going doggo, but as soon as the K9 got a bit of rest, he turned into a maniac.

If Reaper and Goose ended up liking Casper, Levi would insist the team drop by unannounced and see how Casper performed his skills.

With a hand signal from Pete, Casper sat and stayed as his trainer walked slowly over to the group, showing that Casper could follow the orders to stay in place.

Beautiful dog, Levi thought, but he wouldn’t say anything out loud that might send signals, positive or otherwise, of how he felt. An unemotional face was part and parcel of his special forces training and one of the reasons he’d had to learn body language subtleties in others.

As soon as Pete came to the mat, he nodded a greeting to the Cerberus team, then turned to Casper. Pointing at the suspended ball, he called out, “Get it,” then he turned and scrambled to the top of the mat, where he bent in half, squatting to lower his profile. With an arm fixed on the wall to support himself, Pete formed a launch pad with his back. Extending the leg closest to Casper out like a tripod, Pete braced his body against the force of nature pelting his way.

This was the posture Levi took when he needed to get his dog over a wall.

Casper flew over the space.

Power rippled his muscles, making his fur seem liquid. Five feet out from his trainer, the front paws came up for the leap, landing on Pete’s hip. The back legs tucked under, and Pete pressed himself up to catapult Casper.

Front paws on the side of the building, Casper took two vertical strides before arching back like an Olympian on the high dive. Now horizontal, belly to the air, Casper stretched to his full length, mouth wide, as he pulled his legs over his head in a back flip, ball clasped between his teeth. With his paws pointed toward the ground, he floated down into Pete’s arms.

They both collapsed onto the padding as Pete broke Casper’s fall and kept him from injury.

It was a feat of athleticism that brushed goosebumps over Levi’s skin.

Damned impressive.

Goose and Reaper took hard stands, maintaining a poker face while Pete played tug with the ball, giving Casper his reward for a job beautifully executed.

Conroy grinned widely. He knew that had made an impression. And first impressions were sticky. For the rest of their inspection, if Casper made a mistake, there would be a psychological effect that would tempt the team into making excuses for Casper and tamp down the concerns.

Pete stood tall with a big old grin brightening his face; he extended his hand for a shake, then quickly pulled back. “Sweat and slobber, gentlemen. I’ll have to make do with a howdy.”

Conroy introduced Reaper first; he’d obviously concluded Reaper was the most important member of the decision-making team. Then came Goose, deemed second-most important since he was the vet who would give a thumbs up or down on Casper’s health.

These were hundred-thousand-dollar decisions.

There was no way Cerberus could take on a dog that wasn’t in prime shape.

Lastly, Conroy introduced Levi, though Command had told Levi that he was the ultimate decider. If Levi were anything other than an all-systems go, the sale wouldn’t take place.

Levi didn’t mind being relegated to a position of least importance. It meant that no one would pander to him, and he’d have more space and focus to come to a decision.

Sitting beside Pete, Casper eagerly waited for his next task.

Casper only had eyes for Pete and never scanned the men in the conversation circle. His nose didn’t twitch with the new scents. He had no curiosity.

Levi clocked that and would bring it up when the team sat down that night to share their impressions.

In the SEALs kennels, they trained the dogs to think. That meant they were always aware, looking, planning, and ready to execute.

Yeah, that Casper was so hyper-focused on Pete was concerning. But from Pete’s face and posture, he thought that Casper was performing to perfection. His pride wasn’t ill-placed. Casper was magnificent.

It was just a concern Levi added to the pros and cons list.

“We thought that since you’re out here,” Pete said, “I’d suit up, and we can do a takedown simulation.”

“How far was your jog before we got here?” Reaper asked Pete.

Pete dropped a hand to Casper’s head. “Ten miles.”

“How far does Casper typically run in a day?” Reaper asked.

“Fifteen in all. Some with me, some on the treadmill. Casper prefers to be outside. He gets bored on the machine, so I try to get the run in.”

“Do you run with any of the other dogs?” Reaper slid his hands into his pockets.

“Right now, Casper is my running buddy. He’s getting me ready for the New York Marathon.”

Reaper responded with a nod.

Levi lifted his chin. “Hey, Pete, back when I was in the Navy, my team didn’t have a dedicated K9 assigned just for me. I’d choose a dog from the kennel who had the skillset that best fit our operational needs. When I picked up a new dog at the kennels, I always insisted on wearing the bite suit. Hope you don’t mind, but it gives me a chance to know, up close and personal, how things might go down in the field.”

Conroy turned to Pete, and a silent conversation passed between them.

“You know what they say,” Reaper added, “don’t trust a gun you haven’t shot yourself.”

“Yup,” Conroy said, lifting a hand toward a picnic table with a dark pile resting on top. “That’s what they say.”

The men wandered over.

“Casper’s about fifty-five pounds?” Goose asked.

“That’s right.” Pete put a hand on Casper’s head.

Suited up from head to foot in the protective gear that would shield Levi to some extent, Levi moved to midfield, then signaled he was ready.

When he got the go-ahead from Pete, Levi took off running.

Goose was filming so their team could assess the event in slow motion that night at their hotel.

Levi didn’t hear Pete’s attack command, but after years of this kind of work, Levi could sense the disturbance in the atmosphere as the K9 thundered toward him.

Casper launched himself into the air, and as he flew by, he lowered his jaw to bite down on Levi’s arm. The points of Casper’s teeth punctured his skin even through the heavy padding. The velocity spun Levi around, throwing him off balance.

Casper got him down.

With jaws clamped into place, Casper violently shook his head while leaning back onto his haunches. With that steady forward drag, it was hard for Levi to scramble his feet underneath him. Finally able to stand, Casper dangled from Levi’s forearm.

Jaws locked, Casper’s powerful neck twisted back and forth. Levi could feel the muscles in his shoulder lock up to stabilize that arm.

Fifty pounds of dog. Two hundred plus pounds of man. It wasn’t a fair fight. Not even close.

That doggo was a beast.

Levi lifted the training baton in his free hand and simulated what a target might do if they defended themselves.

Casper was undaunted.

Levi had waited to see how long Casper would go before he gave up. But time passed, and nothing changed in their fight dynamic other than Levi's face-planting a second time and the ensuing Casper drag and shake.

Next test: What would happen if Levi changed things up and went from aggressor to capitulation?

Levi pressed his face protectively into the grass. He lay there rock-still as Casper continued the assault.

Pete called Casper off, and Casper was having none of it.

From the way his arm was getting jerked backward, Levi surmised that Casper was being dragged bodily away.

Casper’s full focus was on demolishing Levi’s arm.

Levi thought if he weren’t in this suit, he’d lose the limb.

In the field, the target wouldn’t have protection. Did they want the person mauled? Maybe, on a rare occasion, but for most of the Cerberus assignments, nah.

And did they want a dog that wasn’t under voice command? Absolutely not.

Still face down, Levi heard the sizzling zap of electricity. Some trainers use a shock to catch the dog's attention and refocus them on commands. Although, there was always the risk that the dog would turn his prey drive onto the unprotected trainer.

A moment later, Casper released.

Levi rolled slowly, making sure Pete had a hand in Casper’s collar before he exposed his face. Tomorrow, he’d be bruised and sore.

Reaper reached out a hand to help hoist Levi back on his feet. “I think we can move on to Diabla now. I’ve seen what I need to from Casper. An amazing athlete, just not a good fit for our needs.”

Levi caught Reaper’s gaze, and Reaper lifted a questioning brow. Did Levi agree?

Panting heavily from the exertion of that fight, Levi offered a thumbs up as Pete and Casper moved back over the horizon where they’d first appeared.

Conroy indicated the picnic table. “Levi, leave the suit out here, and we’ll put it away later.” With a gesture toward the building, he set off walking. “Good to get a better read on what you boys are after. You’ve seen a bite. How about we start Diabla at the wall? You can see how well she can search out a scent. I’ll take you to the observation room for starters. And then, if you’d like, we can hide you out in the woods so she can track you from a scent source.”

As Levi pulled the gear off, he knew that Diabla was going to be a fail.

What Levi needed was a K9 trained by someone he knew and trusted with the job. It was then that Levi thought about his friend Enrico, who was down in southern Africa training dogs to help stop rhino poaching. Enrico was a master at the craft of tactical K9 training.

And in their last conversation, he’d said something about needing to sell his favorite dog, Mojo.

Levi would give Enrico a call when he got back to the hotel to ask why Mojo had to leave his job at the game preserve.

Who knew? If not Mojo, maybe Enrico had a line on a dog that would be a good fit for Levi.