Chapter 2

2

A brEED APART RANCH, BLANCO COUNTY, TEXAS

Out in one of the training fields at the ranch, Delaney stopped tugging the dog agility obstacle. She stood with her hands on her hips, chewing her lip as she scanned the yard hemmed in by cinderblocks. Should she leave this double-combo obstacle in the agility course? Tire jump on the left attached to the window-shaped jump on the right. Crew had created the behemoth to level-up the challenge of the course. Surge would commit to whichever she signaled him through. But should she?

Delaney jogged to the front of the training yard, where Surge waited in a "sit" for her next to the eight-foot chain-link fence. She leaned against the chain-link fence opposite him, taking in the earthy, fresh scent of the newly mowed grass. This place reminded her of hot football afternoons back in high school.

Surge leaned his shoulder into her thigh, ready to play—which meant working this course.

"You goofball," she said. "Yes, we're going to do the course. I promise. Gimme a second."

Two hurdle jumps. Of course. Then the A-frame. Simple up and down for Surge. Weave poles. Surge was superfast weaving between the poles. Dog walk. Up one side, across the bridge, down the other side. She'd have to sprint to keep up with him on that one. And lastly, his favorite—the tunnel run.

After what had happened at the middle school, she had to restart his counterconditioning. Okay, the double-combo jump was fine, but the point was to ensure Surge's compliance and focus on her. Simplified, this course would be a good bounce-back for them.

Before Heath found out about Surge's nonresponse yesterday and fired her for doing the scent demo without asking him.

"Surge, stay." Delaney jogged to the double combo and finished dragging it off to the side. She hustled back to the beginning of the agility course and patted her left leg twice. "Surge, heel."

His silky body rippled with taut muscles, his eyes and ears trained on the hurdles. She held his collar, barely restraining the raw power of the Malinois, who barked excitedly.

Praise God for eagerness.

Delaney chuckled. "Surge, go!" Releasing him, she was already moving with him. She signaled Surge to the hurdle and ran beside him as he flew over. Then the next. She rushed to keep pace with him toward the A-frame. He raced up and down it.

She signaled him to the weave poles, and he wove through them as fast as ever. They headed to the dog walk. He ran up one side and started across the bridge. Happy he was doing so well?—he enjoyed it as much as she did—she trotted backward, grinning as he sailed off the bridge.

"Send him through the double combo . . . the tire, not the window."

Delaney's breath hitched at the intrusion of Heath's voice from behind her. Great. She probably should've added it to her course. Why had she doubted herself? Heath knew the Mal preferred the window side to the tire side. But they'd be okay. Surge was paying strong attention to her today.

Surge raced down the other side of the dog walk, and she signaled him to the double combo off to the side of the yard. She was throwing in a wildcard here. Would he do it?

Don't think about it. Don't stress. Just keep going.

They approached it, and she signaled him through the tire side.

He correctly ignored the tunnel but, thick-skulled, he started for the window half of the double combo.

No! Please please please.

She held her breath. At the last minute, he diverted—and sailed right through the tire. Though she wanted to reward him with a "good boy," it was important for him to learn to obey without verbal commands in the middle of a course.

That's right, buddy. Let's finish this thing. She signaled the opening to the tunnel. He shot through it, then spun back around, dropped down to his belly in the grass. Lying there, ears straight up, pink tongue dangling by a mile, Surge stared into the tunnel.

Her stomach fell. What the . . . Why was he signaling a hit? Wait . . . With her nerves bouncing, knowing Heath was watching, she jogged to the tunnel and peeked in.

And smiled. She pulled out a scent tin from the tunnel and lifted it in the air so Heath could see.

"Good job, Surge! Good job." She held out her arms.

Surge leaped into them, then hopped down.

She tugged out his KONG.

His head swiveled around, and he was in motion even as she sent it sailing. He jumped up and snagged it from the air. Proud of himself, he trotted around the yard, then came back to her as she produced the KONG tug. He ditched his other KONG and pounced on the tug. He jerked her shoulder so hard she flipped around to see Heath just outside the gate. With someone else.

Crew. Of course.

But they'd seen this—right? They'd seen that Surge had made the course even with the change-up. That he still had it in him, right?

Oh, wait. There was a third guy she didn't know—and he was watching her. Lifted his jaw in greeting to her. She nodded in kind.

Who was this guy with the scruff beard?

Delaney started to walk over and see who it was, but Heath entered the yard like an incoming storm. Ballcap shielding his eyes, he parked himself right in front of her.

"You found out," Delaney said, thinking about what'd happened at the school as she clipped the lead onto Surge. "I?—"

"Yep."

She felt her career careening toward the brick wall. "I . . . I know I messed up." She'd never been good at listening to the small voice of her conscience. "But you said I could train him. And we'd made progress."

Heath's expression stayed blank as he zeroed in on her.

She pointed at him, immediately regretting that. "You said we made progress."

Going into a conversation with Heath on the offense . . . Yeah, real smart, Delaney. Knowing she was likely digging her own burial hole for him, she shut her mouth.

Surge gave one of his nearly-under-the-breath whines, tail wagging as he looked at the men outside the yard.

Heath smoothed a hand over Surge's head, and the traitorous Mal pushed into his legs, demanding more love. Then Heath pierced her with a look. "The school was too soon with too many unpredictables. Too dangerous with kids."

Oh snap. Her time here was up—he was going to fire her. She'd crossed too many lines. But she wouldn't cry. Not in front of the others, but especially not in front of Heath. What, was he going to fire her in front of Crew and the stranger? She glared at her judge and jury, her fingers playing with the hem of her jacket.

This was the job she didn't want to lose. Ever.

Though she wanted to defend her position and what she'd done, contrition went further with Heath Daniels. "I'm sorry I got in your face about Surge's progress. Sorry I pointed at you."

Heath waited.

She rocked back and forth for a minute, like Dad did when their Jeep got stuck in the mud during their off-roading. "I shouldn't have set up the scent discrimination demo at the middle school without your permission."

Heath grunted. "Do that again, go outside my purview, I will fire you."

She gulped. Wait . . . so he wasn't firing her today? "Thanks for trusting me?—"

Heath arched a knowing eyebrow. "Surge wasn't ready for that, and it's your job to know the difference between his abilities and his history."

She found no condemnation in his eyes when she opened hers, yet he also didn't move. "H-he shut down. I shouldn't have taken him. It was too soon, like you said."

"A: you're right," he said. "It was too early for Surge to work a crowded environment. Going around me is a totally different problem we'll talk about later. B: Surge wasn't the problem."

Delaney frowned at him. "What?"

"You missed the tells—at first. You got it together, but it was too late—he'd triggered. You've trained Surge and he trusts you?—better than I've seen him trust anyone," he said quietly, firmly. "But if you want out, then you know where the front gate is."

She hadn't missed any of Surge's tells. Over the weeks she'd been working with him, she'd been steadfast for Surge, and she didn't want to back down now. But she wanted to earn Heath's respect more than anyone's, to learn from him, so she bobbed her head. "I'm listening."

"You tried to pump him up on the way in rather than stopping to find out where Surge's problem was. You were focused on showing off. You were more concerned about proving you could do it. We know he can."

"No. I was trying to show off A Breed Apart."

"No. You weren't." He took a step toward her. "I know because we've had this same talk since you were sixteen. Your arrogance killed your attention to Surge. He was near overwhelm. Then when I used my phone to set off the tone?—"

She gasped. "You?"

"—and Surge reacted. You missed it because your focus was on yourself, not on what he was communicating to you." He angled in closer. "It's your job to read the dog to protect the dog."

Her eyes started to sting. "So, I'm fired?"

His gaze hardened. "Do you want to be?"

"No!" She balked. "This is the most important thing I've ever done, working with these dogs. It's my dream?—"

"Then quit being an idiot and pay attention to your dog." He scowled. "I believe in you, Delaney, but Surge demands your focus be on him, not yourself. If you can't do that, I'll find someone else?—"

"No!" She had some growl in her voice this time. "I can."

"—for the mission."

It took a second for her brain to catch up. Then her jaw went slack. She eyed Crew and the scruffy guy. "Mission?"

Heath crossed his arms and shouldered in. "You trained Surge to scent the lipids the same way you did Tsunami, right?"

She blinked. Lipids . . . "Yeah, I wanted to give him a mental path other than nonresponsiveness. He took to it really well." Like Tsunami. She lifted the scent tin and eyed it. Was this?—

"Good." Heath waved a hand. "I have something I need you to do, but we have some questions about your readiness."

She blinked at him. Surely he didn't mean . . .

"A mission. You'll go with a team and work him."

She looked back at the stranger. "Go where?"

"I'll explain inside, but it'll be out of country."

"You want to take Surge . . . on a mission?" Thoughts assailed her, but she connected the dots. "To search for these"—she widened her eyes at the meaning—"lipids."

"With SEALs."

Search for chemicals. With SEALs? "I don't understand. A legitimate mission ?"

"Yes."

Cold washed through her. "I'm not cleared for operations—you've told me that many times." Why was her heart thundering? "I'm not a soldier or operator. I train dogs."

"Would I send you anywhere if I felt you weren't qualified?" His eyes narrowed.

"No, but . . ." She didn't want to let him down, yet . . . "I'm not really sure I even want to go." She eyed Crew and the other guy, who were edging closer. "You need guys like them, not me."

"Missions need operators, yes. But to work Surge, they're useless." Heath stood in silence, scrutinizing her. "You were the one with the instinct to bring him around. Surge does well with you, and we need Surge's nose. You need to be there if he shuts down again. Normally, I wouldn't send a dog who hasn't done the quals, but this is a special circumstance, and I trust you to handle this and him."

Okay, so Heath believed in her. She rubbed Surge's ear. "How long will it be for? Because I can't leave my dad for an extended period, as you know." When Surge pressed against her leg, she dug her hand into the thick fur of his neck, appreciating that he always sensed when some comfort was needed.

"Unknown." Heath then seemed to relax. "This is John we're talking about, so I know he'll be good. And we'll check on him."

"And Surge will have protection gear too?"

"Without a doubt."

Delaney nodded her head slowly. "Okay . . ."

"I need your promise you'll play by the book."

She'd often gotten that same look from Dad when she was growing up. "Yes." She would. She planted herself in the training yard grass and gave a nod of assurance.

"Thank you, Maverick. I know I'm asking a lot, but I wouldn't if I didn't think you could handle it. Too, I didn't want to mention this until you agreed, but there'll be a nice bonus." He inclined his head. "It'll put a big dent in your costs with John." He set his hands on his belt. "Briefing here tomorrow at nineteen hundred. You leave Friday zero-five-hundred."

"Can you tell me the country?" She squinted at him.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Keep it quiet, but Singapore."

Whoa. Not just another country that was close, like Mexico, but in Southeast Asia.

The scruff man edged in closer.

Heath pointed between them. "Garrett Walker, Delaney Thompson."

"Hi. Nice to meet you," she said. She tilted her head to her black fur-missile. "This is Surge."

"Wow," Walker said. "He's more beautiful than the picture Sam showed me."

Oh, that's right. She remembered now . . . "You were the chief for the team Sam was on."

He smiled. "I was."

"This boy may be a working dog, but you can pet him. He loves being petted."

Walker clicked his tongue, and Surge responded. KONG dangling, he popped up and came toward the SEAL, who smoothed a hand down the Mal's spine, then gave him some solid chest rubs.

Heath clapped her shoulder. "Maverick here will be at the briefing tomorrow, so y'all can get acquainted between now and shipping out."

Walker jerked, his gaze snagging hers. "Wait, this is Maverick?" He scowled. "She's a woman!"

"Yes . . ." She glanced between him and Heath. "That a problem?"

"Yeah, it's a problem—I mean, no—" He huffed, then turned to Heath. "No way, man. I thought Maverick was some operator you knew."

"That right?" Calm and controlled, Heath reached over and took Surge's lead.

Delaney frowned and tensed. But something in his gaze told her to trust him, so she released it.

He shifted to Walker and extended the end of the leash to him.

Walker took a step back. He'd spent time with Sam and Tsunami, so he likely was well aware of what these dogs were capable of, how one wrong move could mean a gnawed-off limb or worse. "I'm not?—"

"Exactly. You're not." Heath's jaw muscle jounced. "But if you can get Surge to go through that tire side and not the window, I'll reconsider."

Walker's angry fists were like rocks he was about to throw at her. He snatched the lead away.

First mistake . . .

And stalked over the yard.

Second mistake.

"Emotion travels down lead," she murmured, seeing the way Surge closed his mouth and trotted alongside. "He's tense."

"Both of them," Crew muttered. "Think Surge will eat him alive?"

"Let's hope our boy takes a chunk out of the SEAL's pride." Heath folded his arms, then cupped his hands over his mouth. "Put him in a sit, then send him."

The guy walked him over to the last obstacle and faced it, his shoulders still bunched. "Sit."

But Surge glanced back at her, as if asking why he got stuck with the jerk.

"Hey. Sit." Walker's commands were louder.

Surge watched Delaney and finally lowered his backside to the grass.

"Now . . . do it! Go!"

Surge rushed forward, then diverted to Delaney.

The explosion of relief in her chest almost made it hard to breathe as Surge came to a heel at her side. She secured his lead and tried hard not to gloat at the SEAL. And failed miserably.

"Okay, okay, point made," Walker said as he came back to them. "But you have to admit, the odds were stacked against me here."

Seriously, who was this guy? "No wonder they call you Bear."

"She's going," Heath said in that quiet, authoritative voice of his. "You need Surge, and that means her too. Unless you're suddenly qualified to handle a contract working dog . . ."

Walker lifted his hands in the air, then dragged them over his head with a growl. He eyed her again, and his irritation seemed to wash out of his expression. "Sorry."

Not the best apology ever. But she'd give it to him. She held up the scent tin Surge had found. "I assume you hid this and it's the specialized lipid scent?"

"I did. It is." Walker took it and slid the tin into his pocket. "So . . . Maverick, huh?"

"Pretty sure I'm the only one who calls her that," Heath said.

Walker nodded, his jaw set tight. "Saw you work him on the course." Another, smaller nod. "Nice job."

He was likely the only person on the face of the planet who could say those two words and make them mean something entirely different.

Heath cleared his throat. "Mav, Walker will be the team lead on the mission. Whatever you need, talk to him. He'll take care of you and Surge." There was more than a little warning in Heath's tone as he rammed his gaze into the SEAL.

Another tiny nod from Walker.

Though she felt a thrum of exultation—this mission meant she could buy her father the leg prosthetic upgrade—Delaney felt another thrum, this one banging against all her old fears.

But for Dad she'd do it.

Maybe this was where Dad's slogan— a little nice goes a long way —fit in. "It's good to know there's a SEAL taking charge."

"Former SEAL." The way Heath said it seemed to be about putting the man in his place. "It's a paramilitary mission—so private contract with the government to work this."

"Like you're a former Green Beret, and she's not military, yet she's going, so I'm not sure what your point is, Ghost," Walker responded and slid a glower in her direction.

Was he blaming her for what Heath said? She tried to get along with him.

Do not get in his face. Walk away. Leave, before you say something stupid and get yanked. "You're high-handed, Walker."

Yeah, like that. She shouldn't have said that.

Walker's gaze stabbed her. "What do you mean high-handed , Ms. Thompson?"

She arched her eyebrow. "That your attitude earned you the nickname Bear."

His jaw dropped. "How on earth?—"

In her peripheral vision, Delaney saw Heath smirk. She couldn't help but do the same.

First, she'd gotten in trouble for going behind Heath's back with Surge. Deserved.

Now, she was put with this bear-man for a mission—a real one. To Singapore. With a grizzly-sized SEAL. Former SEAL. What had she gotten herself into? Nerves quailing, she considered rescinding her agreement to do this. Let them figure it out on their own. But . . . the chance to get Dad that new prosthetic and prove to him—and Heath—that Surge still had what it took. That this four-legged hero wasn't ready for retirement.

That's what she'd gotten herself into, and she wasn't going to back out.

"See you tomorrow at nineteen hundred, Master Chief."

* * *

Garrett shook his head, watching Thompson high-five Crew. The two chatted as the beefy guy escorted her and Surge back to the kennels.

You are high-handed . . .

That your attitude earned you the nickname Bear.

That olive green jacket and her swingy caramel-brown ponytail matched her sass. When he'd first shown up with Crew to watch the demonstration, he'd noticed the woman and wondered where Maverick was. Should've put it together before Daniels blindsided him. Might've saved him from sounding sexist. He'd heard her snappy replies when Daniels was chewing her out, then saw her stab a finger at the guy—all moves that would've earned disciplinary action had she been in the military. Even he had been the target of her snark.

She was a massive recipe for trouble in his book, and he did not want to work with her. Period.

"You were comfortable around Surge," Daniels said as he started toward the gate and motioned him to follow.

Garrett hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans. "Spending time on ops with Sam and Tsunami taught me a lot. I loved tossing her the KONG while Samwise grilled for the team when we were back inside the wire."

Daniels's deep laugh radiated across the field, then he sobered. "How're you since Sam's death?"

How best to answer that? "Being strong."

"Staying strong in the faith?"

Of course. Yeah. Except . . . no. He looked down. "It was good to see you at Sam's funeral."

The bypass of answering didn't get past Daniels. "Sam was a good person and a skilled handler. I appreciated how he integrated Delaney's work to develop the necessary skillset as he prepped for a mission. She went several times." No doubt another warning to not discount her because she was a woman. "Clear?"

"We are." He'd muffed that one up. "Look—it just caught me off guard that she was Maverick. I'd expected a guy, someone with training, ya know? Not a . . . newb who doesn't even have basic training under her belt."

Definitely making a point about Delaney, wasn't he?

Daniels stopped and angled toward him, a fist against Garrett's shoulder. "When I contract out our dogs, I meet what's requested—bomb, patrol, scent." He dipped his chin and glared from beneath his ball cap. "But you don't get a say over the handler. That's my job. End of story." He gave a nod. "We clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. You're not the first to make the mistake." Daniels started walking again and eyed him. "What have you been up to since you got out?"

"My former warrant officer contracted me some freelance jobs." He shrugged as they headed back to the main building. "I'm making rent."

"Barely?"

He pushed up one sleeve, then the other. "It's not the same kind of teamwork as SEALs, but it pays the bills."

Daniels nodded. "I hear that."

"I got to see Rocca Guaita in San Marino last month. I'd never seen it before that mission. What's been going on with you?"

"Besides Surge, Crew obtained a few dogs that are taking my time. Delaney's too. Going to be a dad soon."

Surprise made Walker jerk. "That's great."

"Yeah . . . if Darc doesn't kill me first. Nothing like a mama protecting her pup." He chuckled.

Garrett's thoughts ricocheted to his complete failure in getting Surge through that tunnel and tire. "How'd Thompson get him to do the tire side, not the window side?"

Daniels shrugged. "She's good at what she does. The window is his running fave, so diverting him was a challenge. But he listens to her." His gaze bored into Garrett.

"You made your point—very well. I'm not sure I'll get my man card back after that."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

Garrett felt the lipid scent tin in his pocket and pulled it out. His gaze shifted to the legend in tac pants and a black shirt.

Son of a gun . . . "This was more than a lipid scent test."

Daniels held his gaze, resolute, silent.

"You were testing her—and me."

Daniels pulled his ballcap low over disapproving eyes. "Wasn't testing her at all. I know what she can do."

Huh. "Guess this means I passed?"

Daniels gave a cockeyed nod. "For now."

Garrett folded his arms across his chest. "I barely know you, Daniels." He shifted his gaze to Daniels, who'd nearly reached the gate. "Can I trust them out there in the field?"

The man stopped, stood silently, squinting at the smear of red across the southern sky.

Garrett waited.

"Surge had issues after Tsunami's death, yes. Dispositioned, yes." Daniels's hard gaze could cut steel. "I'm satisfied those issues are behind them." He sized up Garrett. "Chapel told me exactly what was needed for this mission. Surge is my dog. Delaney is his trainer. I know them. They're ready."

Logically, Garrett knew it should be fine. But he felt like this was Samwise's death in Tadjoura all over again. "But I don't need a show-off on this mission." He cringed. "Look what happened at the school."

Daniels considered him. "Don't recall mentioning that."

"I heard you chewing her out."

"Correcting her," Daniels said, not missing a beat.

"You're not going to convince me?" Garrett jutted his jaw, tossed the scent tin from hand to hand. He put it back in his pocket. "What happens out there on the mission?"

"As an operator, you know that can never be fully known."

That was the ABA owner's answer? Garrett shook his head. "I think this is a bad idea. What kind of training does Thompson have? Is she really qualified?"

"You're ticking me off, frogman." Daniels tightened his mouth. "I've already told you what you need to know."

"How am I going to protect her?"

Daniels laughed. "Same thing I told her. You're a SEAL. Zim's a SEAL. If the two of you can't handle it, Surge will."

"But her attitude concerns me."

Daniels stared hard. "Kind of like yours does me."

Man, he hadn't meant to insult the guy, or tick him off.

If it weren't for those blasted lipids, he'd already be out of here. But he needed Surge, or civilians could die.

The girl—guess she came with the dog. And Daniels had Chapel's rec. That told him A Breed Apart and their Legacy dogs were top-notch. "Okay."

Hands on his belt, Daniels eyed him up and down.

Erasing the distance between them, Garrett swallowed his pride. "I overstepped."

"You did."

He extended his hand. "Truce?"

"Depends on how you treat my people, both the two-legged and the four-legged kind."

"Understood."

"Do you? Because it seems you're trying to pull weight you don't have. I'm doing this because Chapel talked you up." His gaze raked over Garrett. "Never second-guessed the guy before."

"Harsh."

"Yeah, you were." Daniels adjusted his ballcap and angled in. "I get the concern. But it's unfounded. Either you trust ABA teams or you don't. No skin off my back. Just know, word gets around. Chapel vouched for you, I agreed. Now you've questioned my call about my dogs and trainers, neither of which you know anything about, Walker. This business has a long memory. And so do I."

"I hear you. Didn't mean any offense. Just want to be sure they both come home."

Daniels adjusted his ballcap again. "If they don't, that's on you. So make up your mind, frogman."

Left standing there in the parking lot, Garrett knew what he had to do at the briefing tomorrow. The dog was vital to mission success. The girl . . . Guess they needed to have a stiff chat about how things would go.