Page 4

K age

Courage.

The word had continuously entered my mind over the last few days. After careful examination, something recommended by my former shrink, I’d determined that the concept had presented itself in the forefront of my mind because Tank had shown exemplary courage since losing his former owner.

We’d gotten closer, the dog responding to my moods better than almost any human had managed. He knew when to keep his distance and when to crowd my space. Tank had also allowed me to experience something I’d thought forever vanquished from my life.

Peace.

Peace of mind.

Peace of body.

Peace of soul.

That didn’t mean the edge wouldn’t return. I knew better than to think I was cured. According to the experts, that wasn’t feasible. I had what I’d been told was PTSD on steroids. Yeah, well, I had good goddamn reasons.

I chuckled as I hopped from my truck. Now that Tank had resumed eating, he’d gone through an entire bag of dog food in just five days since we’d first started playing with tennis balls.

Not that his food consumption bothered me.

I was happy someone had an appetite.

When I walked into Jasper’s, a local bar near the pet store, the old angst flushed through my system. I didn’t like crowds, loud music, or people. Most of all, people. But the crotchety older man behind the bar had quickly recognized another kindred soul when he’d seen it.

As I slid onto a barstool, Jarvis nodded. He was chatting with a couple of locals, one of whom gave me a not so friendly onceover. Durango, Colorado was a small enough town everyone knew when a stranger had arrived in town who wasn’t a tourist craving snow peaks and skiing.

Plus, my size alone frightened most fine upstanding individuals.

Seconds later, Jarvis slapped down a glass of whiskey, the lines around his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “How’s mountain life?”

“Not bad,” I answered, immediately taking a swallow of liquor. I had no clue what had prompted me to drop by the joint. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have a stash of booze of my own. Maybe I was craving human companionship. Yeah, right.

“I heard you got yourself a companion.”

I snorted. “News travels fast.”

“It ain’t tourist season yet. We got time on our hands and mental apathy to change.” He laughed. “Man’s best friend. Getting Ralph was the best thing I ever did.”

“Ralph?”

“Hey, I got to name him after my wife’s ex, a fucking shithead of a man. No offense to the Great Dane.”

At least the former Marine could make me laugh. We’d exchanged benign war stories a couple of times, although I’d sensed he had the same kind of stories I did, the kind you reserved for nightmares and drunken spirals into hell. “Tank’s a great boy. We’re just getting to know each other.”

“Tank.” Jarvis looked away. “Big black lab?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

Jarvis scratched his beard. “Didn’t he belong to some Marine that got shipped out?”

“So I heard. Corporal David Banks.”

His eyes opened wide, one of the looks crossing his face I knew too well. “Sad fucking shit.”

“Meaning?”

“I heard he lost his parents in a terrible car crash weeks before he was shipped out earlier than expected. Poor guy. He came in here a couple times with the dog. Always had a smile on his face.”

“He comin’ home any time soon?”

There was no need for the barkeep to answer me. The haunted look in his eyes said it all. “He went right to the front lines. The poor kid lost his life only a couple months in. Saved his team though. A real hero.”

Hero. Something I’d never be.

Hearing the news wasn’t new for me. How many good men and women had been lost when I’d served my time?

We remained in a moment of silence. I wasn’t nearly as emotional as I’d once been, but hearing of the corporal’s death after reading his letter was fucking personal.

I almost felt as if I’d been a part of David’s life.

I made a silent pledge to his spirit that I’d honor his love of Tank and keep him safe, well fed, and by my side no matter the circumstances.

“Damn shame,” Jarvis added, more emotional than I was. “Anyway, the drink is on the house.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of Tank. No one needs to be alone.”

“Quiet,” our commander said as we approached the group of buildings. With only the moon to guide us over treacherous terrain, our advance had taken longer than we’d hoped. Even the night vision goggles had been more of a hindrance than anything.

Commander Jenkins motioned for Maddox and me to advance. We flanked the sides of the door leading into where we’d been told an Afghani army chief responsible for thousands of deaths during sweeping massacres was holed up.

I only prayed to God the intel was correct.

Maddox turned his head, the stream of moonlight catching his evil grin. The Navy SEAL loved this shit more than I did. And I thoroughly enjoyed kicking some enemy ass.

“We go on three,” Commander Jenkins instructed in a harsh whisper.

Exhaling, I took a step back. With a roll of the dice, I’d won the opportunity to kick the motherfucking door in. As soon as the ticking of three was finished, I slammed my boot against the wooden door with enough force a portion splintered.

Within seconds, we were inside the large compound, searching every room. With my weapon in my both hands, I swept the shadowed corners, searching for signs of anyone.

Dead or alive.

Where the fuck were the insurgents?

I turned, hoping to find Maddox right behind me. He wasn’t.

Only a few seconds later, a slight sound caught my attention. Oh, hell, no. We’d been lured into a trap.

There was no time to waste.

“Get out. Get the fuck out!” I roared and bolted in the opposite direction.

I was right. It had been a fucking setup.

Boom!

“Fuck.” Hissing, I jerked up, gasping for air. What the goddamn shit?

A hard thumping drew my attention, the slight whimper dragging me from the depths of hell. My eyes were clouded over, the rush of adrenaline making it tough to breathe.

Another whine and suddenly I felt a nudge against my arm. With my chest heaving, I looked down. “Tank.” My voice was scratchy, my throat almost closed.

He crawled closer, big brown eyes staring up at me.

Shit. Goddamn it, I’d thought the nightmares were behind me.

“I don’t know, dude.” Groaning, I raked my hand through my hair. It had been a long time since I’d succumbed to a nightmare. Once upon a time they’d been frequent, a rush of memories no one should be forced to relive.

In a pool of sweat, I turned my head. Very early morning light peeked in through the half open blinds.

Tank’s tail thumped again.

“Yeah, buddy. I know. It’s breakfast time.” Laughing, I threw back the covers. The boy could eat. Hell, maybe I’d make steak and eggs for breakfast for both of us.

As soon as my feet hit the floor, what little peace I’d regained was interrupted by a loud booming sound against the door. My reactions were swift. I grabbed the weapon I kept on my nightstand when not housed in my holster and jumped off the bed.

Tank growled, for the first time since I’d rescued him baring his teeth.

After heading into the living room, I crept toward the door, taking a glance out the front window.

There was a second truck parked outside, a make and model I didn’t recognize.

Not that I regularly had visitors. I had a feeling that folks knew they weren’t welcome.

I nodded to Tank, who as if by instinct had already taken a position a few feet away from the door, ready to launch toward the unwanted visitors if necessary.

The second I threw open the door, I shoved the weapon in the person’s face.

“Jesus Christ, Lieutenant Rollins.”

Tank growled.

“Go easy, boy,” I told him. The man standing on my doorstep was the last person I’d expected to see. “Commander Jenkins? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” He lifted his eyebrow seeing I was dressed in sweatpants and nothing else.

The same awkward tension we’d experienced just before I’d retired kicked in.

“So what are you doing here?” My tone was more demanding.

“Do ya think we could talk about it over a cup of coffee, Lieutenant?”

Whatever the reason that he’d searched through files, maybe even contacting my dad to find me, raised a red flag.

I’d left Maryland not long after learning of my uncle’s death.

The man had left me his property in Colorado along with a hefty bank account.

Since my dad had been estranged from his blood brother for well over two decades, he was still furious I’d decided to move into the house instead of selling it sight unseen.

Maybe I would sell the place, but doing so wasn’t my father’s call. “No longer a lieutenant, Commander.”

He sighed, giving me a hard look before I finally opened the door wider. “You’ll always be a decorated Navy SEAL.”

“Fuck being decorated.” I closed the door behind him, immediately backing away. “Make yourself at home. Let me grab a shirt.”

Tank didn’t budge, staring at the man when I left the room. My pup was no more trusting of anyone than I was, although the commander was a good man and had been an even better leader. I grabbed a shirt, shoving my feet into boots before returning.

“How do you take your coffee, Commander?”

“Just Gray now, Kage. Maybe we should go by first names. We are friends after all.” He looked at me warily. “Just a little cream if you have it.”

Friends.

Men like us didn’t harbor friendships. At least not the one who’d experienced true life nightmares.

I nodded and headed into the kitchen, immediately making a full pot. Something told me I was going to need the extra boost of caffeine. He’d positioned himself at the kitchen table, trying and failing to get Tank to keep from staring at him.

“He doesn’t like strangers,” I told him.

“Neither do you, apparently.”

“Nope. So what are you doing here?” I leaned against the counter, folding my arms.

“You never could stand small talk or bullshit.”