Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (60 page)

“But now…now I get no resolution.”

Aspen tilted her head. “What kind of resolution?”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just that…” She touched his folded arms. “Dane, his power over you is gone. He’s gone.”

“No, Aspen. He’s right here.” He tapped his temple. “I hear his words constantly.”

She smiled at him. Tiptoed up and kissed the spot he’d just touched. “‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here!’” She wrapped her arm around his neck and grinned as his arms snaked around her waist. “I really like the new.”

“Do me a favor?”

Aspen craned her neck back a bit to look at him without her eyes crossing. “What’s that?”

“Call me Nikol.”

He’d insisted in the last few months that she
not
call him that. “That’s one giant leap for Danekind.”

“Nikol is the name my mother gave me. It was her father’s name. I’d forgotten that, shut out the good parts with the bad. I don’t want to forget her.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

His steely eyes traced her face. Gauging. Watching. Searching…

“What?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“One more favor.”

“Too many and you’re going to need to start a tab.”

He kissed her. Aspen melted into his arms. Talon barked. Aspen giggled in the middle of the kiss. “He’s jealous.”

“So am I.” Dane—Nikol looked at her.

“So, what’s the last favor?”

He tugged something from his pocket. Handed it to her.

Aspen eased out of his arms and unfolded the paper. Right above
Nikol Tselekova
and the name
Aspen Elizabeth Courtland
were the words
Certificate of Marriage
.

Her heart beat in tune to a new, partially erratic rhythm. “I…I thought General Burnett annulled it.” She eased back, staring at the paper in confusion. “Wiped the slate clean. And…your name. That’s not the name you used in Djibouti.”

“I asked him not to annul but merely to amend the document.”

Rapid-fire drumming of her heart pulsed against her lungs. She raised her eyebrows. Though she knew what meaning
she
would attach to that statement, she wanted to know his. “Why?”

“Because I want you to marry me.” He touched her lips with a finger as she started to respond. “If it takes two more years to convince you that I’m the man for you, then I have nothing better to do.”

“You know, you’re pretty thickheaded.”

His face fell. “Is that a no?”

“That’s an ‘I told you six months ago I loved you.’ Just one problem.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t pronounce your last name.”

He grinned. And she loved the way it pinched his eyes with joy. “Better start practicing.” Nikol leaned in for another kiss.

“Aspen!”

She growled as she rolled her shoulder to look up at the house. “What?”

“They’re waiting on you.” Austin looked at a watch he wasn’t wearing. “And…might want to come talk to Timbrel.”

“Why?”

Austin shrugged. “She just seems edgy to me.”

“She’s always edgy. All right,” Aspen said as she turned. She called Talon then joined hands with Nikol as they made their way up onto the wraparound porch. She reached for the door just as it flew open.

Timbrel stormed out. Brow knitted and lips pinched tight, she swung around. Her face blanched. “Oh.”

“Timbrel,” a voice called from inside as the sound of feet drew close. “Hold up.”

“I gotta go.” Timbrel hustled down the steps.

Aspen watched, concerned.

Candyman burst out. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the guy seemed to have as much bulk as when he had his tac vest and gear on. “Where—?” He spotted her and hurried after Timbrel. “Wait.”

In her brown Jeep, Timbrel backed out, tires spitting rocks at Candyman. As she rammed it into D
RIVE
, she glared over the half door at him. “I don’t kiss beards. Period!”

“I—”

Scrambling tires muffled his response.

Candyman swung around and pounded a fist into the side of a blue truck and let out a growl that rivaled Talon’s when he’d defeated the demon dogs.

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” Nikol said.

“Most men don’t.” Aspen eyed him then shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. I already told him he’s got his work cut out for him.”

“I think he should quit while he’s ahead.”

“If he’s got it that bad for her, I think he should fight for her with his dying breath.” She nodded to the driveway where Candyman had climbed into his truck and tore down the drive after Timbrel. Yeah…this was going to be interesting.

The ground rattled. Dust plumed and pushed aside the curtain, unveiling the specter of war that raged beyond. The bridge…The American Marines had already taken the bridge. The airport.

Boom!
The concussion vibrated through the air and thumped against his chest. Wind gusted back the curtain again, once white. He traced the curtain. She had been so proud of that find in the market. White and filled with tiny holes. He teased her that she could purchase any old cloth and in a few years it would have its own holes. She swatted his shoulder with a playful smile.

A guttural scream choked the air. Pulled him around.

He stared at the striped curtain that hung, separating him from his mother who helped his wife, struggling to usher their firstborn into the world.

Another shriek spun him back to the door. To the east, to Mecca.
Please, Allah…protect her. I will live in peace. Always. Just…

The familiar tat-tat-tat of automatic weapons sounded close. AK-47s. His heart ka-thumped. They were closing in.
Please, Allah!

Pebbles thunked against the ledge, dribbled onto the floor.

Steady and tickling, a vibration wormed through the house. Like some evil dance to an unheard song, the walls jounced rapidly. The bowl of olives and dates rattled across the wood table. He saved them and set them back. She had loved those olives. Her favorite. He brought them home for her last night. Anything to let her know how special she was.

His gaze traced the simple dwelling. He had not done so well in providing for her. But some day…some day he would. If only—

Coming from Barbour Publishing in January 2014!

Ronie Kendig
grew up an Army brat and married a veteran. Her life is never dull in a homeschooling family with four children and three dogs. She has a degree in Psychology, speaks to various groups, is active in the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and mentors new writers. Ronie can be found at
www.roniekendig.com
, on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/rapidfirefiction
), Twitter (
@roniekendig
), and GoodReads.

SGT Kowtko & MWD Igor M064

My name is Sgt Andrew Kowtko. I am currently the Military Working Dog Trainer aboard MCAS Yuma, Arizona. I moved from MCB Camp LeJeune, II MEF, II MHG, 2d Law Enforcement Battalion where I served as a Military Working Dog Handler for four years. I have two combat deployments with II MEF—one to Operation Iraqi Freedom and one to Operation Enduring Freedom. I deployed as a Patrol Explosive Detector Dog Handler to both Operations.

Out of several bedtime stories, this one in particular comes to mind. We were deployed in support of (ISO) Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF); Military Working Dog (MWD) Igor M064—a Patrol Explosive Detector Dog (P/EDD)—and myself were supporting 3rd Battalion, 8th Marines, Kilo Company. We dug into an area untouched by Coalition troops since the beginning of the war. After setting up our Combat Outpost, we constantly patrolled the “Green Zone” for Taliban fighters fleeing the heavy fighting to our north in Sangin. We were located on the west side of the Helmand River adjacent to Forward Outpost Robinson. On a routine patrol, we were pushing into the city of Qaleh Ye Gaz looking for Taliban activity and to impede the enemy’s free movement. While we were pushing around a compound, MWD Blade L612, along with handler Cpl Cory Bracy, showed a slight change of behavior on a possible improvised explosive device (IED). Upon our spotting the IED, a Taliban fighter detonated it by means of a command pull wire.

The blast threw me and the other handler back approximately 5 feet. Once we regained our senses, looking ourselves over making sure we had all limbs we walked in with, we immediately took contact from enemy fighters dug into compounds surrounding the IED. The small arms fire was extremely accurate with rounds impacting 1–2 feet around friendly positions. After about ten minutes, enemy guns were quickly silenced by our superior firepower. We utilized all means of firepower including tanks, mortars, and crew served weapons. We broke contact by pushing south. While crossing an open field, MWD Blade threw another change of behavior on an Afghan-built foot bridge; now, see, these can be extremely dangerous choke points to any patrol moving without the aid of a good dog team. Noticing wires protruding from the dirt, we quickly marked the location to push around. Within 30 feet, MWD Blade was sent to search a crossing into another field. MWD Blade showed a third change of behavior on a raised piece of dirt covered by poppy plants. Once again, we quickly marked the grid coordinates and kept pushing. We finished the patrol and returned to the COP.

If there had not been a Military Working Dog present on the patrol, multiple lives would have been lost. We train on a daily basis for the moment when we can save ourselves, other service members, and innocent civilians. Being an MWD handler, I have always sworn by utilizing MWDs on patrols in the relentless world of war. On that day, in the moments that we need MWDs the most, we proved ourselves to be true life-savers.

Sgt Andrew Kowtko enlisted in the Marine Corps in August 2007 and is currently stationed in Yuma, Arizona. He works as a Military Policeman, Patrol/Narcotics Detector Dog Handler. Sgt Kowtko has been awarded numerous decorations, including the Purple Heart.