Extreme Honor (5 page)

Well, she wasn't a private investigator and as a civilian, she was limited to what a good Internet search could find for her. He had another point. She was never going to be someone to spite herself by turning down valuable information just because of where it came from.

“Background information would be helpful.” There. As close to a thank-you as she was going to manage through gritted teeth.

“Remember. Your performance reflects on me and that dog is a military asset. Conduct yourself professionally.” His admonishment sparked her temper again. “The man you're working with is former military. Don't let him run over you on this case. Men like him are still military even after they've left active duty. Arrogant sons of bitches. Do not let him take credit for our family's work.”

Hello, pot, calling kettle black
.

And there was no way her stepfather could know about the…almost moment between her and David. Something she hadn't had a chance to think about, but she should. Until she did, though, her stepfather needed to recognize this project included real souls. Not just assets listed on a report. “That dog's name is Atlas. And I am always professional. I'm very good at what I do.”

Damn. Too much. She shouldn't have taken the bait. Shouldn't have gotten defensive about her abilities.

“We'll see.” He ended the call.

Of course. He always had the last word. And damn, but it'd left her reaching for a comeback again. Too slow. Flustered. He'd won that round.

She tapped her foot, restless. Atlas hadn't budged from his spot over by the couch, but he was sitting up and watching her. Another good sign. Even if he wanted to maintain a little detachment, he was tuned in to what she was doing and what her moods were. Engaged. Very positive considering yesterday he'd been completely disinterested in life in general and people specifically.

No harm in continuing a bit of therapeutic venting in Atlas's direction. Dogs were excellent listeners. “I lived and breathed to please my stepfather when I was a kid. He was never home. The few times he came back, I wanted to show him everything I'd done while he was gone. How good I'd been. And somehow I got it into my head that if I could just do well enough in school, win enough awards, excel at sports, then he'd come home to stay. Every time he left again, it broke my heart.” Her eyes grew hot and she blinked against dryness. The tears had long since burned away when it came to this set of memories. “When he finally sat me down and informed me how very little I mattered in the bigger picture of his career and his life with my mother, my heart was in pieces on the floor. I was extra baggage. Someone else's genetic contribution to the continuation of the human race. And out of honor, he'd see to it I had the basics to grow up and contribute to society. That was it.”

She huffed out a soft laugh. Atlas gave her one of those doggy raised eyebrow looks.

“By the time I realized I had nothing to do with his decisions, I thought I hated him. Really. It took a long time to realize no matter how mad I was at him, how much I said I didn't care, I was waiting for the one time he'd say I'd proved him wrong or made him proud.” She chewed on her lip. It'd been a bitter taste, admitting it to herself. “He's not a bad man. His priorities are different from…basically the rest of the warm-blooded, caring portion of this world.”

Atlas settled back down on his belly, his head raised as he continued to listen to her.

She stepped toward him and crouched down to sit back on her heels within arm's reach of him. “We're all assets to him. We each go in one of two buckets: useful or useless. And to be honest, even if I built my career on my own and in spite of his doubts, I still want to prove to him I'm not useless.”

She sighed. And Atlas sighed too.

“I want to say it's not a primary driver.” Studying the beautiful contrast of black in the tan of Atlas's face, calm settled over her. “And it's not. I came here for you and your story. Just reading what happened, I wanted to get to know you. And now that I've met you, I want to see you happy again.”

Because broken hearts could heal. It wasn't a whimsical child's refuge, it was her very real belief and she wanted it for Atlas.

C
ruz hesitated at the door to his cabin, now guest quarters. Atlas hadn't sounded any kind of alarm at his approach, but then the dog knew his step. If there was a window open somewhere, the dog might have caught his scent, too. Also familiar. It would've been confirmation: someone who belonged was on his way and not a stranger.

He shouldn't be disappointed Atlas hadn't given a warning bark on the approach of a known human.

But Atlas was waking up from the pining he'd been doing. Engaging with the world and people again. Maybe it was unfair to expect leaving him with Lyn Jones for an hour or two would trigger a full transformation in the dog, but Cruz had kinda hoped it'd be that easy—for Atlas's sake, and so they could make more progress in tracking down the mystery of his old friend's cryptic message.

Atlas's handler, Calhoun, had sent a random text to Cruz in the middle of the night a while back. It hadn't made any sense. Cruz had assumed it'd been a drunk text, honestly. Then Calhoun died. As far as Cruz was concerned, the message and the tragedy were connected in a bad way, no matter what the official report said. Cruz needed Atlas to puzzle out Calhoun's message and his old friend deserved having his last request fulfilled.

One step at a time. He'd see how things had progressed with Lyn and Atlas first, then figure out his next actions. Considering how he'd left Lyn, there was a spark he needed to follow up on there, too.

Juggling the packages he carried into his left hand, he freed up the other to give a quick knock. Lyn's soft acknowledgment came from inside, not directly on the other side of the door but definitely in the main room. He let himself in.

“Brought some choices for lunch.” Stepping inside, he noticed the guest cabin was mostly dark. The only light was streaming in from the windows. Plenty to see by, but a relief from the midday sun beating down outside.

“Smells good.” Lyn had been…sitting? She rose from the middle of the floor and Atlas came to stand on all four feet as she did it.

Funny.

“I've got a couple of choices from our favorite sub shop. Cheesesteak or meatball parm. Which would you like?”

Her eyes widened.

Shit. Maybe she didn't like either option.

“Are you a vegetarian?” He probably should've asked before they'd made the lunch run but he'd been in a hurry to tuck her away someplace safe and get back to the police who'd responded to the call this morning.

She blinked and placed her hand on her belly. “No. I was just hoping you hadn't heard my stomach growl when the word ‘cheesesteak' came out of your mouth. I'm starving.”

Good. Otherwise, he would've been making a second run out for food because he sure as hell wasn't going to let her go hungry as a result of his lapse in thought. Generally, he tried to be considerate and shit. With this woman, though, he was constantly off his game.

Atlas stood in the middle of the living area watching him, expression and body language decidedly neutral.

Well, the pair of them had him off balance. Cruz might have a chance to regain it if they could avoid an encounter requiring police follow-up for more than twenty-four hours. All things considered, anyone would be a little unhinged.

He headed for the small kitchen table in the breakfast area. “Let's not keep you waiting anymore.”

Pulling the foil-wrapped subs out of the bag, he placed the cheesesteak in front of her and took the meatball parmesan for himself. Plenty of napkins went in a pile in the middle of the table. Added bonus, he flipped open a carton containing French fries drowning in melted cheese.

Lyn pulled out a chair and glanced back at Atlas mid-motion. The dog's ears swiveled forward. Cruz bit back his first impulse comment and waited to see what she did.

She gave a slight shake of her head. “Atlas,
auf
.”

The dog hesitated and then lay down on his belly, head still up.

“
Blijf
.” She gave the dog a long look and then turned, seating herself.

Atlas watched her back and glanced at Cruz. Then the big dog set his head between his paws, turned away from the table as if he hadn't wanted any people food anyway.

Cruz approved. No way was he going to feed any dog in their care this kind of junk food. And yes, he saw the irony. But the dogs at Hope's Crossing Kennels were fed balanced meals based on their weight and level of activity. Cheesy, greasy, bombs of comfort food were not figured into their dietary plans.

She glanced up to meet Cruz's gaze. “I did some research into the command you taught me earlier. Most of my clients have their dogs trained to respond to English commands but Atlas and I have been figuring out how to work with the Dutch vocabulary he recognizes.”

He'd planned to work with her and Atlas on that after lunch. On one hand, her initiative was on point and he approved. On the other, he was inexplicably irritated at the implied censure in her tone. As if he'd meant to keep her communication with Atlas limited or been testing her. She was probably fishing to see if he'd been doing just that but he wasn't going to take the bait and respond.

Whatever passive–aggressive crap she was anticipating, he didn't play those games. So he remained silent and kept his expression neutral, continuing to set out their lunch.

“I'm not going to lie; I'm really interested in trying this.” Lyn quit staring at him and unwrapped the cheesesteak. “I've never had a real Philly cheesesteak anywhere near Philadelphia.”

Cruz raised an eyebrow. “Your work doesn't bring you to Pennsylvania very often?”

She shook her head. “I'm mostly on the West Coast. Seattle, Portland, several cities in California.”

She had the sandwich up and had turned her head to the side, trying to fit the entire end in her mouth. As long as they were being honest, Cruz really enjoyed watching her try. How much a lady could fit into her mouth was always an interesting question.

And he was definitely going to hell for that thought.

Then her eyes shuttered closed as she had her first bite and chewed. “Mmm.”

His pants suddenly got a hell of a lot tighter. “Good?”

“Oh yeah.” She chewed some more, savoring. “That is really good.”

“Have some cheese fries.” He pushed the carton over to her and got up to get them each a glass of water. She looked like she was about to inhale the cheesesteak and he wanted to be sure she had something to wash it all down before she choked.

He also needed time to get his stupid grin under control because watching her enjoy a simple sandwich was incredibly entertaining. In all sorts of ways.

“What kind of cheese is this?” Lyn asked. He glanced back to see her studying the end of a coated fry before popping it into her mouth.

Bad, bad pictures flashed through his head.
Jesus
.

“Cheez Whiz.” Not his favorite, but then Rojas had been the one to actually go for the food. “It's one of the favorites on-site.”

“One of?” she asked even as she took another bite.

Even eating messy, she was cute. Hot. Both.

He returned to the table with glasses of water and sat down again. “Everyone has their taste. I like my cheesesteaks better with real provolone.”

“Hmm.” Another bite and a very thoughtful look of concentration as she pondered. “It wouldn't go over the fries as easily.”

He nodded. “True. I still like the fries better with Cheez Whiz.”

She sighed, studying her now half a sandwich. “It's too bad this is so very
bad
for us.”

“Doesn't hurt to enjoy once in a while.” Life could be short. Painfully so. Living for the moment helped. This was fun, much improved from her indirect attitude earlier. “If you like it that much, we'll have to make sure to take you into Philly and have you order your own at one of the classic places for them.”

She chewed some more, swallowed, and took a sip of water. “Aren't the best places Pat's and Geno's?”

He shrugged. “Probably the ones you hear about most often. There's Jim's on South Street too. A lot of places in Philly do a good cheesesteak. I like Tony Luke's on Oregon Ave.”

The cheesesteak in her hands had more of her attention than his words did. No issue there. He liked a woman with her priorities straight.

There was a lot to like about Lyn Jones from what he'd seen over the last day, and he'd rather focus on the positive. The way she could enjoy a good sandwich every bit as much as a swanky meal in an expensive establishment was high up on his list of good things about her so far.

“You think Atlas would do well on a socialization walk through the city?” She was back to the fries and looking at him with a clear, crystal green gaze. He decided not to tell her she had cheese on the corner of her mouth, or that he wanted to kiss it off.

“Maybe not today, but not out of the question later this week if he keeps improving.” He glanced at the dog, who was steadfast in trying to ignore them. Normally he didn't eat in front of the dogs. No need to tease them with what they couldn't have. But it didn't hurt their training to have temptation around them sometimes. “I was thinking maybe I'd take you out to dinner and give him the night off.”

She swallowed. Hard. “Dinner. Like a date?”

Ah. Maybe not
. “That was the idea. Maybe I read things wrong but I thought we had a moment back there.”

“Oh.” Her fair cheeks flushed pink. “No. Yes. We did. I just…”

“It's okay if you'd prefer not.” He schooled his expression to carefully neutral. She was important to helping Atlas and he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable working with him just because he'd asked her on a date. Dumb idea anyway.

She bit her lower lip but had the grace to look him directly in the eye. “You're a very nice man, David. And I can't thank you enough…”

He held up his hand. “No need to thank me.”

He'd slam his own head into a wall before letting her accept a date with him as a thank-you for what any decent person should've done for her. Interested in her? Yes. But everything in him rebelled at the idea of pressuring her. He liked his women willing and he didn't exactly have a problem finding them. This just needed to quit being so damned uncomfortable.

“I'd like to keep things at the professional coworker level…and friends. Is that okay?”

How could he say no? He wasn't an absolute dick. And besides which, his priority was Atlas. The dog needed for them to work well together and David wasn't about to let his hormones screw anything up.

“We're good.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Totally professional and no hard feelings.”

She let out the breath she'd been holding and gave him a small, unsure smile.

He pushed the fries closer to her and handed her a napkin. “Have another fry. You'll need the energy this afternoon working with our friend here.”

“Agility?” Lyn studied the course. It wasn't the standard agility course she was used to seeing but rather a more rugged course. There were items specific to K9 training like the broad jump, catwalk, and brick wall jump. The Catch-A frame was completely new to her. The car door jump and window jump were actually painted in more realistic colors as opposed to the standard white. The equipment was familiar to her but not part of her usual clientele's goals.

David took the lead off Atlas. “He can do all of it. Easily. The question is whether he wants to.”

She nodded. A dog learned exponentially faster with internal drive. Incentive could help too, but a trainer learned to align training with the natural drive of the dog for the best results. Which meant finding a situation in which the dog wanted to perform a particular action.

At the moment, Atlas was sitting next to David and not even looking at the agility course. Not interested.

“What're we using for incentive?” She'd used treats usually for clients, but the K9 and military trainers didn't always have the same practices.

David pulled a tennis ball from his pocket. Atlas watched the slow arch of the ball as it crossed the distance between them. Lyn was happy she caught it. It would've been insanely embarrassing if she'd dropped it considering how much time David had given her to catch it.

“He gets this after completing each exercise.” David lifted his chin toward the ball in her hands. “Then we'll see if we can get him to do the whole course for the ball.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That's assuming a very fast learning curve.”

He shrugged. “This is all review for him. He used to run a course like this for the sheer joy of doing it. If we get him back into a mood to do it at all, I don't think it'll take long for him to demonstrate how easy this is for him.”

She laughed. Atlas did seem to have his fair share of pride. “Okay.”

“Walk to each obstacle and give the command. Let's take them one at a time and see how much he needs to obey.”

“Obedience.” She frowned. “We haven't confirmed he's consistently obedient yet.”

Only a few commands this morning and during lunch. Every time, she'd seen the pause, the consideration, as Atlas had
decided
whether he wanted to obey.

“He's still got solid obedience.” David spoke with utter confidence, almost irritating. “There's a delay but he doesn't ignore commands. He just doesn't care enough to execute immediately.”

She frowned. The delay in behavior might not be a big deal in the civilian world. Some regular owners might not even think twice about the delay even if it became a habit. But…he could be testing her. “The delay isn't acceptable for military work.”

David shook his head, no hint of whether he'd been leading her to saying so or not. Just responding. “Not at all. But then, at his age, he might not be redeployed at this point. It really depends on how well he comes through this.”