FRACTURED HONOR

by Kaylea Cross

  Ella was already explaining herself to the lady at the front desk, then turned to Beckett. “He’s down this way, come on!” She all but ran down the hallway, and Beckett was starting to think he’d made a really big mistake by bringing her here. If they couldn’t find Walter a home, it would be even more devastating for her now.

  He found her around the corner crouched in front of a large cage, her little fingers curled around the chain link. “Walter, it’s me. Hi, Walter. That’s a good boy, come here,” she coaxed, sticking her hand through one of the holes to reach for the dog hidden in the shadows beyond the reach of the overhead lights.

  Beckett stopped behind her just as the mutt hobbled out of the darkness. Walter appeared to be some kind of basset hound mix. Maybe. And judging by the amount of white on that muzzle, he was freaking ancient.

  His short, stubby little legs shuffled along stiffly, his long, fluffy brown ears flopping. His eyes drooped as much as his jowls, his tongue hanging weirdly out the side of his mouth. His back end swayed a little with each step, his slightly-feathered white tail drooping.

  “Yes, that’s a good boy, come here,” Ella crooned, instinctively doing that female singsong thing that women did whenever they talked to animals or babies.

  Walter waddled slowly up to her, stretched his neck out to sniff at the outstretched fingers and sat, peering up at them both with red-rimmed eyes. His left upper lip caught on what appeared to be one of the only teeth left in his mouth, distorting his already crooked face.

  Also, Walter stank. The shelter staff obviously hadn’t bathed him yet. Or maybe they had and he’d rolled in something.

  Beckett wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of filthy, unwashed dog, overlaid with a sickly-sweet scent of garbage. Or poop.

  “Oh, you’re such a handsome boy,” Ella said, praising the dog.

  Beckett eyed her. Seriously, Walter was in the top five ugliest dogs he had ever seen, easy. And he’d seen some ugly-ass curs overseas.

  Walter sat there looking up at them both with those mournful eyes, unmoving.

  Ella turned her head to gaze up at him. “Look, Mr. Beckett, he’s grumpy, like you.”

  Beckett’s eyebrows shot upward. Grumpy? Hell.

  Ella looked back at the dog. “He’s just sad because he was abandoned and now he doesn’t have anyone to love him.”

  Well that is like me. He shoved the uncomfortable thought aside. It was a good thing that his ex had left him. He had been about to move out anyway. And he didn’t miss her anymore. They were both way better off now.

  Beckett stared down at the top of Ella’s blond head. God, this innocent kid and her heartfelt words. They were far more powerful than she could ever realize.

  Shifting his focus back to Walter, he met the dog’s woebegone gaze as it stared up at him from the other side of the cage.

  He mentally groaned. Great. How the hell was he supposed to walk away now, and let the dog be put down in the morning? Ella would be distraught, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her being that upset over a damn dog when she already felt abandoned by her own father.

  He sighed. He’d never considered getting a dog before now. Hadn’t had one since he was a kid, and his life was so busy now. The whole situation made him think of Sierra and her big, soft heart, especially when it came to animals.

  She’d always loved them. During his teen years she’d taken in countless strays she’d come across, a veritable menagerie of injured and orphaned creatures. Once, when she was about Ella’s age, which would have made him about sixteen, she had made him climb through a hedge of blackberry brambles to capture an injured baby rabbit she’d spotted an eagle drop from its talons.

  He’d come out of there over forty minutes later bleeding almost as badly as the wounded bunny, but he’d gotten it for her. She’d put the motionless, bloodstained thing in a shoebox with holes in the lid, placed it in the handlebar basket of her little pink bike and raced all the way into town as fast as she could to the vet clinic to save it. The clinic she now owned.

  He’d always admired her compassion and drive. Didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d made a successful career out of one of her passions. He used to be passionate about things too. But the only things he was passionate about anymore was her, and making his dad’s business a success.

  It took him a second to realize that Walter and Ella were both staring up at him now, watching him with identical sad, hopeful expressions.

  Well, fuck. He folded his arms across his chest and muttered, “How much is the adoption fee?”

  Forty minutes later he walked out of the shelter carrying a forty-pound bag of dog food, the proud owner of an ancient, filthy and grumpy mutt nobody else wanted.

  A hundred-and-fifty bucks to adopt a dog that was practically at death’s door. Beckett shook his head at himself as he walked to his truck. He must have lost his damn mind.

  “This is the best day ever,” Ella gushed, all but skipping beside him, Walter trailing behind her on a new leash Beckett had also shelled out for. Purple, because Ella had picked it.

  Beckett grunted in response and opened the back door of the truck cab. He tossed the food in first, then turned to look down at Walter. The dog gazed up at him with a shoot me now expression, seeming to either not grasp or appreciate that he’d just been saved from the atomic needle at the eleventh hour.

  Ignoring the twinge of pain in his lower back, Beckett crouched down to sit on his haunches in front of the dog. Two feet apart, he and Walter eyed each other for a long moment in mutual suspicion. “You bite me, I’m taking you right back inside,” he warned the dog, who in truth was already growing on him a little.

  “He won’t bite you,” Ella said in a tone that said she thought the idea was completely ridiculous. “He’s grateful that you rescued him. And besides, he barely has any teeth left.”

  True.

  Beckett scooped up the pungent dog, who was surprisingly heavy given how bony he looked, and lifted him onto the back seat. Walter promptly plunked his arthritic back end down and let out a low groan of what sounded like mingled pain and relief.

  Yeah, you and me both, buddy.

  Beckett shut the door and opened Ella’s, helping her up onto the seat. She immediately swung around to look at Walter. “Look how happy he is,” she said, beaming as Beckett came around to slide in behind the wheel.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Walter gazed back at him with that droopy-eyed stare, tongue sticking out the side of his floppy mouth, looking about as blasé as a dog could get. He was actually kinda cute, in a so-ugly-he’s-cute way.

  Well, I’ve gone and done it now. He was officially a dog owner. Too late to change his mind at this point. “Put on your seatbelt,” he said to Ella gruffly, and fired up the engine.

  “We’d better stop in town and take down all the posters,” she said as he steered out of the empty parking lot. “I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up and go to the pound to adopt Walter, then find out he’s gone.”

  Yeah, like there was any chance of that happening. Still, Beckett dutifully stopped at every telephone pole along Front Street, waiting while she hopped out and took down each flyer before climbing back into the truck and moving to the next one.

  On the way home from town she sat in the back next to Walter, fussing over him, petting him all over. “Where is he going to sleep, Mr. Beckett? On your bed?”

  What? No damn way that was happening. “He can sleep downstairs on the rug by the front door.”

  When he glanced in the rearview mirror Ella’s eyes were wide with horror and condemnation. “He won’t like that. He’s old, and dogs are pack animals. It’s mean to make him be alone, especially at night. He already feels abandoned. And he needs a real bed to sleep in so it won’t hurt his back. Remember? The lady said he’s got a bad back.”

  Yet another thing they had in common. Both grumpy, both with bad backs. At least Beckett didn’t smell. “I’ll make sure he’s comfy,” he muttered. No damn w
ay that flea-bitten, stinky mutt was coming anywhere near his bedroom though. Walter needed a bath, asap.

  “You can get him a memory foam bed at the pet store tomorrow,” she suggested, back to petting Walter. “I bet that would help his back.”

  Memory foam? For a dog? Christ. “I’ll look into it,” was all he said, fighting the scowl trying to crease his forehead. She and most everybody else around here already thought he was grumpy. No need to prove them right.

  He passed his dad’s place and continued down Salt Spray Lane to the house where she lived with her mother. Tiana’s car was parked out front. “Tell your mom I said hi,” Beckett told her.

  “I will. Can I come by after my after-school care tomorrow to play with Walter? If I check with my mom first? I can walk him for you, and feed him his supper if you’re not home yet.”

  “Sure. You remember where the spare key is?”

  “Yes.” Beaming, Ella undid her seatbelt and took him by surprise by leaning between the front seats to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mr. Beckett, for saving Walter. You’re my hero. And his, too.” She kissed his scruffy cheek, popped the door open and hopped out.

  A flash of pain stabbed beneath his ribcage. Her words were like an arrow to the chest, hitting the one gap in the armor plating around his jaded heart.

  A hero.

  He’d joined the military with illusions of becoming just that, but he hadn’t felt like one in forever. Not given all the men he’d lost, and the lives he’d taken in the name of duty. The ones he’d killed with a weapon as well as the ones he hadn’t been able to save.

  Faces flashed through his mind. Former teammates. Some of them laughing. Some of them in agony as they died in front of him.

  The hostages from the Syria mission. All dead now.

  With effort, he pulled out of the black memories and looked for Ella. She was already racing for her front door, blond ponytail streaming behind her.

  “Mom! Mom, we saved Walter!” she cried as she reached the top step that led to her porch.

  Beckett drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, the sudden crushing pressure in his chest easing a little. He waited until Ella threw the front door open, spun around to wave, then disappeared inside.

  He’d saved a dog’s life and made a little girl’s month. A better day’s work than he’d done in recent memory.

  He turned a little in his seat to look back at his new furry roommate, still perched on the back seat. He hadn’t done anything that had made a difference in a damn long time. Maybe saving an old dog wasn’t much, but it was something, and it had put a smile on Ella’s face.

  At any rate, for better or worse, Walter was his responsibility now.

  “Well, Walter, guess it’s just you and me now. Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

  As soon as they got inside, Beckett was putting him in the shower for a serious date with a shampoo bottle. And first thing in the morning—providing old Walter made it through the night—he was making an appointment to take him in to see Sierra.

  And just maybe she’d see him as a hero too.

  Chapter Eight

  In the back room of the clinic Sierra checked the mama dog and pups she’d just delivered via C-section, gave the groggy new mother’s head a comforting stroke and closed the cage door. “Macy, when’s my next patient?” she asked over her shoulder. She’d been working nonstop since eight and needed to eat.

  “He’s already here,” her assistant answered.

  Sierra blinked. “What? I thought I had a break now.”

  “New patient called in first thing this morning. Said he’s a friend of yours. I had to bump him for the emergency C-section, so I squeezed him in now.”

  Oh. “Who is it?”

  “Can’t remember. Want me to go look it up?”

  “No, just send him in.” She turned to grab her stethoscope from the stainless steel table, and stopped in the act of turning toward the door as Beckett walked in. A little blond girl was right on his heels, holding the end of a leash.

  He was literally the last person on earth she had expected to see here. Sierra glanced between him and the girl in surprise. What in the…?

  “Hi,” he said, then glanced back at the girl. “This is Ella.”

  Ella gave the leash a tug. “Walter. Come.”

  “Uh, hi.” Sierra watched in fascination as an elderly basset mix waddled stiffly into her exam room. The dog was…ancient. She glanced up at Beckett, trying to put the pieces together. Must be the girl’s dog. “Walter?”

  “I adopted him last night from the shelter.”

  Her eyebrows shot up at that. “Really?” That didn’t seem like something he would do. And how did the girl come into this then?

  He lifted a broad shoulder, his muscles flexing under the fabric of his shirt. God, he was sexy. “Long story. Anyway, they didn’t know much about him except that he was abandoned at the dump.”

  “His family brought him there and just left him,” Ella said in disgust. “My mom and I took him to the shelter, but she wouldn’t let me keep him.” She smiled up at Beckett, gave him an adoring look. “They were going to put him to sleep this morning, but Mr. Beckett saved him.”

  Beckett cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, and on a man that strong and tough, it was adorable. “We don’t know anything else about his history. He has a microchip. The shelter contacted the family, but they didn’t want him back. I thought I’d better bring him in and get him checked out.”

  The dog stopped next to Beckett and seemed to sag, all of his folds and wrinkles drooping along with his eyes, tongue and ears. He was so adorably ugly she had to suppress a giggle. “Okay. Can you put him up on the table here?” She motioned behind her.

  “Sure.” He bent, gently scooped up the dog to lift him up onto the exam table for her, and it seemed like he covered a wince as he straightened. “He’s pretty old.”

  From the amount of white on the muzzle and the advanced arthritis she was pretty sure he had, that was an understatement. “Yeah, I’ll say.” She stroked Walter’s head, smoothed her hand down his neck, palpating the prominent spine and ribs. “He’s thin.” It made her angry. There was a special place in hell for people who mistreated animals, including dumping their pets when they were no longer wanted or became too much trouble.

  “The shelter sold me a special food for senior dogs. He ate everything I gave him for dinner and breakfast. And I didn’t see any fleas or anything when I gave him a shower last night.”

  “You put him in the shower?” She couldn’t help but grin at the image as she continued her examination, until she pictured Beckett naked in the shower too, and wound up fumbling with her stethoscope.

  “He stank. So yeah.”

  She liked this unexpected hint of softness from Beckett. Liked it a lot. “His skin is in good condition,” she said, checking him over. She examined his ears. “Ears are surprisingly clean.” The mouth. “Only a few teeth left, and a pretty decent amount of plaque on them. Might have to schedule a cleaning soon.”

  She palpated his belly, checked the size of his kidneys, listened to his heart and lungs. “A nice, healthy ticker, Walter, and your lungs are clear,” she said, giving the dog’s floppy ears a scratch. Had to be mixed with a spaniel breed, given the wavy fur on them and the feathery tail. “Not bad for a senior citizen.”

  The end of his tail moved feebly.

  “Did you see that, Mr. Beckett? He likes her,” Ella said, watching Walter with a proud expression.

  “Yeah, I saw,” Beckett said, watching Sierra work.

  “Well I like Walter too,” she told them. “I’m going to give him some vaccines just to be sure he’s protected, and some heartworm and flea medication. Then I’m clipping his nails, because he’s in dire need of a pawdicure.”

  Ella giggled at the pun, and Sierra gave her a wink.

  Walter didn’t even flinch as she administered the injections and clipped his nails. It was like he was shut do
wn inside. She couldn’t blame him after what he’d been through. Poor guy. “I would increase his food for the next week or so, try to put a couple of pounds on him,” she said to Beckett.

  “All right.”

  “Okay, Walter, I think we’re all done here. And you were such a good boy you earned yourself a cookie out front.” She went to reach for him but Beckett picked him up for her and placed him on the ground. When he straightened he did so slowly, his posture stiff. “You hurt yourself?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Well something was hurting him. She smiled at Ella. “Maybe you could give Walter his cookie at the desk and then take him out for a short walk up and down the street while Beckett and I finish up?”

  The girl’s eyes lit up. “Sure! Come on, Walter.” The dog waddled after her, his head bent low, a long-suffering expression on his face.

  When the exam room door swung shut, Sierra entered everything into the computer system before turning to face Beckett. “I didn’t know you even liked dogs.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I like ‘em. Just never thought I would get one. At least not for a long while yet, until I’m more settled and things quiet down some.”

  Until after his dad passed, he meant.

  A pang of sympathy speared her. He was dealing with so much, trying to handle everything all on his own, never asking for help and keeping everyone at arms length while he did it.

  “What about you, why don’t you have a dog? Or a cat? You love animals.”

  “I do, but I’m still nursing a broken heart after putting Taffy down.” Her shepherd cross rescue she’d had for three wonderful years. “It’s only been six months. I’m not ready yet.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. He passed away while you were overseas.” She leaned a hip against the exam table. “So. In spite of everything going on in your life, you decided to rescue a centenarian dog from death row at the eleventh hour, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Ella’s really attached to him. I couldn’t let them put him down, and he’s so old I figured he won’t be that much trouble.”