Page 48 of Operation K-9 Brothers

“Stop it, Murphy,” Mark said, laughing as he pushed the puppy’s face away.

Jack swallowed his smile.While the kid—and that was how he thought of Mark even though he was legally considered an adult—was distracted and would answer without thinking, Jack said, “What kind of job would make you the happiest?”

“Creating video games.”

“Do you know how?”He didn’t know anything about that, but he did know someone who did.

“You mean like coding?”Mark grabbed a towel, then wrapped it around Murphy before picking him up.

“Yeah.Have you created any?”

“A bunch, but most of them aren’t too good.Just basic stuff.The last one is pretty good.”He shrugged.“I think so, anyway.”

Jack rarely played video games these days.The popular ones—kill your opponent or aliens or whatever—held no appeal to a man used to war and the real deal.“Have you shown it to anyone or tried to do anything with it?”

“No.Don’t really know who I could show it to.”

“I do.”

“For real?”

Gotcha,Jack thought when the kid’s eyes lit up, hope shining in them.“Yep.I’ll make a deal with you.You come here, volunteer your time with me in the mornings, and I’ll give my friend a call.”

Clint Alba wasn’t exactly a friend, but the brother of Jack’s teammate, Noah.Clint designed video games for a living, and from what Noah said, had made a name for himself in the industry.Jack had met Clint twice and he seemed like a nice guy.Hopefully nice enough to be agreeable to taking a look at Mark’s game.

“Sure.Got nothing better to do in the mornings.Does it have to be so early, though?”

“’Fraid so.”Maybe the early mornings would keep him from staying out late with assholes like Lane Gregory.

“That sucks, but okay.When are you going to call him?”

“This afternoon.Might take me a day or two to catch up with him.”First, he’d have to get in touch with Noah and get Clint’s phone number.Hopefully his team wasn’t out on an op and unreachable.

A dusty white truck pulled to a stop in front of the kennels, and Ron Kitterman got out.“Jack, good to see you back.”His gaze fell on Mark.“And who’s this?”

“Mark Masters, another volunteer.Mark, this is Ron Kitterman, the owner of this place.”

“Always good to have another pair of hands.You got any experience with dogs?”

“No, sir.”

Jack cringed.He should have cleared it with Ron before bringing Mark out here.He hoped the man wouldn’t send Mark packing.

“Like I said, we can always use the extra help, but don’t try to teach the dogs anything.They have specialized training, and even teaching one to sit messes things up.”

“I won’t,” Mark said.“And thank you, Mr.Kitterman.”

If nothing else, the kid had manners.

Ron glanced at Jack’s truck.“Where’s that dog of yours, Jack?”

“Home.Would you have a problem with me bringing her here?”

“No.Just keep her away from the other dogs.”

“Not a problem.”

“Well, I got some calls to make,” Ron said.“You boys are doing a good job.”