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“You don’t want anyone else for the job.” Lori grinned and turned to open the gate to Max’s run. “I’ll take a little footage of Max first and then I’ll do a piece to camera.” She closed the gate behind her and walked slowly toward the half-size opening to Max’s sleeping space, softly calling his name. He’d never shown any aggression toward her, but she didn’t want to risk him reacting badly if she spooked him. In the six years that she’d been running this place, her vet hadn’t been forced to euthanize any healthy dogs because of violent behavior. It was a record Lori was proud of and wanted to keep in place.

She heard Max’s low whine before she saw his nose twitching quickly. “Hey, handsome boy,” she said gently and crouched down slightly to crawl into his indoor area.

His sleek black ears, which should’ve been standing erect were pinned flat against his head, and his eyes were so wide, she could see a sliver of white edging them. He was sitting on his haunches, pressed back into the farthest corner of the kennel, but his furrowed brow relaxed a little when he was sure it was her, and the whale eye effect disappeared. He would’ve recognized her scent—she rotated blankets from the chair and sofa in her office to the dogs’ beds—way before Lori had even opened his gate, but he clearly no longer trusted his instincts.

She sat beside him, moving extra slow, then lifted her hand even more gradually to stroke the top of his head in deliberately long motions. He sank into his shoulders only slightly before craning his neck to push back into her touch. “That’s it, Max. You can relax.” She continued to rub his head for a while, letting him get used to the steady rhythm of her touch.

He moved his snout toward her a tiny bit and sniffed the air rapidly. He glanced up at her briefly before averting his gaze again. Lori smiled and moved her hand marginally closer to one of his ears so she could graze her thumb over it. “Smell something you like, huh?”

He repeated the sniffing and the furtive look and pushed his head against her palm again. Lori lifted her right hand and moved carefully toward the chest pocket of her dungarees to retrieve a beef cube. She held the treat in her palm and lowered it gently. Max didn’t move toward it, but his nose went into overdrive. “Go ahead,” Lori said.

He moved his muzzle toward the chunk of meat and took it from her tentatively. He barely chewed it, gulping it down like he hadn’t eaten in a month, then looked at her again, this time holding her gaze for a little longer.

“Another one? I suppose it takes more than one little cow chunk to sustain eighty pounds of Belgian beefcake, huh?”

Max lowered his head and prodded her pocket with his nose. Lori took out a handful and held them out for him. “One at a time.”

He whined in a tiny show of petulance. Usually, she’d discourage such behavior but with Max, it was a tantalizing glimpse of his personality, and she wanted to draw out as much of that as possible. Still, he took the treats individually, though the time it took him to swallow them got less and less with each piece.

“Are you camera-ready? Or do you need more bribes?” She ran her hand from the top of his head and along his back. His tail twitched so minutely that she wouldn’t have registered it had her hand not been as close. “Okay. One more, and then you’ll be ready for your close-up.”

He licked his lips as if he understood every word she was saying. For all she knew, maybe he did. Max had been trained to detect bombs; was it that much of a stretch to think that he had a rudimentary grip of human language?

After he’d munched the final offering, she took out her phone and got them both in frame. “You remember Max, our hero who came home from Syria six months ago? He was an explosive hazard expert, but he couldn’t do his job anymore after being injured in a bombing. Well, he’s been doing really well, slowly getting better with each passing day. And thanks so much to everyone who’s sent in money, and food, and gifts for our little place and especially for Max.” She panned the camera to a small collection of partially destroyed chew toys. “Oh, and BlueEyedHusky, the monkey you sent is his favorite—it may have a couple less limbs than it started with, but it’s still going strong.” She put them back in the shot and smiled. “But we’ve had a setback.”

Lori hit pause on the recording and slipped the phone back in her pocket. “Good boy, Max. The camera loves you.” She got up in a low squat position and gave him one last head rub. “Beth will be in soon with your dinner. Make sure you eat it all up, or I’ll get into trouble with her for ruining your appetite with treats.” She crawled out of the opening and turned back one last time. She swallowed her gut reaction to the bereft look in Max’s eyes. She’d been looking after animals of one kind or another her whole life, and she’d loved every one of them, but that love had always been temporary. Somehow though, Max had burrowed deeper into her heart, and she knew she was going to have a hard time letting him go when he was fully recovered. “I’ll be back to take you for a walk in an hour or so.”

“Why so sad?” Rosie asked as she opened the gate.

Lori locked it behind her and sighed. “I’m going to miss him,” she said and handed Rosie her phone before locking the gate behind her.

Rosie frowned and fixed the phone onto the tripod. “Really? It’s not like you to get attached.”

She nudged Rosie gently. “That makes me sound like a monster.”

“Oh, yeah, a monster who uses all her money and time to save ex-service dogs and horses. And wolves. And elephants. You’re a poor example of empathy and humanity.” Rosie pointed back toward Max’s kennel. “Seriously though, you shed a few tears for all of the animals who leave here for shiny new homes, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you’d miss them.”

Lori shrugged. She supposed she hadn’t. “Ignore me. I’m just being hormonal,” she said and prepared herself for the predictable speech.

Rosie arched her eyebrow. “Don’t you—” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me, aren’t you?” She turned her attention to the phone. “Not today, Lori Turner. I won’t be wasting my precious feminist words on your ungrateful ears.”

Lori grinned. “Can ears be ungrateful?”

Rosie tapped her watch then gestured to the camera set-up. “We’re losing the light. Best get your message recorded and out in the world if you want to stop your horse from pooping nuclear waste.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s do it. And then you can tell me why you really tagged along and risked ruining your beautiful clothes.”

CHAPTER TWO

Gabe Jackson bolted upright in her bed and looked around the room frantically, trying to get her bearings and situate herself in the moment. It took a while before the environment became vaguely familiar; she’d been in this motel for five days. Five days too long, but she didn’t have a choice. She blew out a long breath and shook her head before dropping back into the softness of the pillow. Twenty years of service relatively unscathed, and an insider attack ended up being the one thing that occasionally dragged her out of a deep and restful sleep.

“Are you okay?”

Gabe half-turned toward the whispered voice. “I’m fine.”

“What time is it?” Solo asked.

Gabe glanced at the neon-blue display on the side table clock. “Nearly 0600.” She turned the phone’s alarm function off. Her body was so used to getting up early, she didn’t really need it, but it gave her the illusion of a normal life. “I have to go for a run.”