Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (17 page)

Aspen trotted toward them, gulping air. Red splotches glowed against her white-blond curls now a sweat-stained brown. Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“He’s tracking,” Timbrel said.

“Tracking
what?
There wasn’t…anything in that children’s”—she swallowed—“ward,” Aspen said with a gasp, still out of breath from the run. “And where did he go?” She threw her hands up and walked out into the middle. “Talon, come.” She took a draught from the CamelBak strapped to her spine. She lifted a whistle, placed it between her lips, and blew.

Nothing.

“That thing even work?” Cardinal asked just to open the conversation. He knew it was one of those that emitted a high-frequency signal.

Worry lined her fair features. “He can hear it. Up to two miles.”

A string of old buildings lined the property on the northern side. To the south and southwest more recent buildings or those that had been updated. Like the Sheraton and casino cradled at the corner.

“Command ordered us back to base.”

Aspen spun toward Watterboy. “I’m not leaving without him. You shouldn’t either—he’s a soldier, just like you.” Her shoulders dropped, and Cardinal could almost read her thoughts,
or he used to be
. She scanned the area. “Just give me five more minutes.” Brows knitted, she looked ready to cry.

And in some weird way, that twisted Cardinal’s heart. “What can I do?” It was a stupid question. Even as it rang in his ears, he berated
himself—what can I do?
Find the dog! But it wasn’t that he asked because he’d had a brain fart.

No, the reason behind that question was far more dangerous. Because with those words, he knew beyond a shadow of any doubt or intention, he would break a Cardinal rule: Never be at the mercy of another.

“Find him.” Aspen felt like she’d just placed her heart, her very life, in the hands of a man who had the power to be her undoing. He knew too much. Like the words to say to convince her to do anything. The words to twist her soul into knots until it took hours—as it had last night—of quiet meditation on God’s Word to untangle it.

She chided herself, being on this mission to find her brother, but her thoughts constantly straying to this man. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Powerful chest and arms. But an even more powerful presence.
Commanding
. He had that effect on most everyone. She was certain of that because of Timbrel’s reaction. Like when water hit a hot frying pan. There’s that initial explosion then the sizzling till evaporation.

Aspen chuckled to herself.
So, which of those two would evaporate?

“What’s that?” Dane asked, curving his spine a bit to bend toward her.

“Nothing.” See? There. He’d done it again. Picked up on a cue she hadn’t even realized she’d given off.

“Then you didn’t hear me?”

Her heart slipped a gear. “What?”

Dane stretched his long, tanned arm toward the row of crumbling buildings with bent, broken, missing windows. One no longer had a roof. “A couple of those are on brick supports.”

“Yeah?”

“He might’ve crawled under there.”

The thought seized her. “That’s what he does when he’s scared—gets under something.”

“Come on.”

“What’s going on?” Timbrel came up behind them.

“We’re going to search the buildings.” Aspen nodded toward the structures. “They’re on bricks, so—”

“He might be hiding.”

Nodding, Aspen fell into step with Dane. A move that felt as natural and comforting as if they’d held hands.
Whoa, chief
. She had to shake these thoughts. Stay focused on finding Austin. “He’s been worse since we landed here.”

Dane squatted next to a small building then skirted around the foundation curling away from the rest of the house. He tugged it back.

Growling burst out.

Dane grinned. “I think we found him.”

“Talon!” Dropping to her knees, she felt a giddy bubble work its way up her throat. She touched Dane’s arm. “Thank you.” Palms pressed to the dirt, she peered under the building. Were it any other animal, had she not spent the last year coaching Talon through therapy and teaching him how to be a dog again, the hollow gold eyes glowing in the dark would scare the heebies out of her.

She resisted the urge to baby-talk him. Heath had challenged her on that the day dog and handler had met. Keeping her voice calm and controlled would help Talon’s mental state. Knowing he could smell her fear, she stowed it. “Talon, come.”

A high-pitched whimper.

Aspen dug his ball out of her pant pocket. “Here, boy.”

Gravel and dirt shifted in the darkened area.

Repeating the command went against all the training she’d accrued. But she wanted to coax him out. This was different, though, wasn’t it? He was in a dangerous place, with the heat and she wasn’t sure what else. She did, however, feel like they were exposed and vulnerable.

“Command’s ordering us back to the hospital. Temps are skyrocketing.”

“Here.” Candyman removed his SureFire and crouched beside them. He aimed it beneath the house. Light shattered darkness. “Here, boy.” He looked at Aspen. “Want me to go in and get him?”

“No.” Aspen lay on her belly. “If you go in, you block his only exit. He’ll feel trapped.”

Dark blond beard and green eyes considered her. “So, what you’re saying is he’ll bite my face off.”

“That’d be an improvement,” Timbrel heckled.

Candyman rolled onto his side and looked up at her, a hand over his heart. “I’m mortally wounded.”

“Does that mean I get your weapon and CamelBak when you finally die?”

“Just give me room.” Aspen nudged him out of the way. “Talon, come.”

He belly-crawled a couple of inches then dropped his head to the ground with another whimper.

Aspen sought Dane’s eyes. “This might take awhile.” Like…forever.

He gave a slight nod then stood. “Why don’t y’all get the vehicles and pick us up. Maybe with the tac gear and the heat, he’s…” Why did that sound whacked?

“What? Having a flashback?”

Timbrel snapped her gaze to one of the men crowding around. “Yes, and if you could smell as well as him, you’d know how much you and your attitude stink.”

“Hey,” Dane said, cutting in, “just give Aspen some room to work with the dog. If we stress him, this whole gig will be one big fail.” He rested a hand on Watterboy’s shoulder. “Try explaining that to Burnett without a case of Dr Pepper and protective gear.”

Watterboy considered Aspen. “Think you can get him out of there?”

“Yes.” Which was another question, but doubts couldn’t be part of this equation.

“You’ve got ten, fifteen max.” He pushed back through the group. “Move out.”

“I’m not leaving them.” Timbrel squared off.

Watterboy stopped, and even with the shades his frustration was obvious.

“I’ll stand guard,” Candyman said.

“Done.” Watterboy and the others headed out.

“I don’t need your protection.” Timbrel folded her arms.

“Baby, this wasn’t about you.” He tugged out a packet of jerky and squatted. “Think this will help?”

Appreciation swam through Aspen. “It’s worth a try.” She took the jerky and ripped it open.

Dane monitored Talon. “He lifted his head.”

She tugged off a piece and tossed it to Talon. He wolfed it down. The next piece didn’t quite make it to him. He scooted forward to reach it, chewing the dried meat.

“It’s working,” Dane muttered.

Excitement spiraled as Talon inched toward them.

She pulled the straw of the CamelBak free, took a mouthful, then squirted some water from the bite valve. Talon lapped and lapped. Aspen lazily tossed the last few pieces of meat, forcing him into the open.

“Almost—”

Thwack!

Gunfire!

    Twelve    

F
ire streaked down Cardinal’s arm as he threw himself into Aspen. Adrenaline muted the pain. Drove him. Used his momentum to hold Aspen in his arms and roll. Straight into the building. Heat licked the top of his head. He ground his teeth. “Under, under!”

Aspen folded herself under the building.

As they scurried beneath the crumbling structure into cover, he heard Timbrel and Candyman scrambling. This wasn’t the smartest place to hide. But he’d hidden in worse.

“Base, taking fire, taking fire,” Candyman shouted.

With about eighteen inches of space, they had no room to maneuver save a belly crawl. Flush against Aspen, he shifted. Or tried. Aspen hadn’t moved, and he knew why—Talon’s low growl.

“Who’s shooting?” Cardinal shouted.

“No line of sight.” Candyman sounded ticked. “Why’s the dog growling?”

“Seeing your mug is enough to scare even the most-seasoned combat veteran like Talon,” Timbrel said, a smile in her voice.

“Ha. Funny.”

Though Cardinal couldn’t see where Candyman and Hogan were, they were obviously close enough to hear Talon’s rejection of this situation.

“He feels trapped,” Aspen interjected.

Cardinal drew himself around, shifting and trying to get in a better position. The floorboards of the building scraped his arm. Might as well have poured lemon juice on the slice in his bicep.

As he did, he spied Aspen stretching her hand toward Talon. Cardinal tensed and waited for the dog to snap. Instead, the sound of sniffing blended with the thumps and cracks of bullets hitting the house.