by April Hunt
There was a long silence.
“I see.” And the hesitation this time—if she could believe it—was doubt on his part. “I’ll admit I haven’t paid this close attention to the military service dog training program in the past. I’ve only recently become responsible for public perception on high-profile veterans within the last several years. The majority have been of the human persuasion.”
Somehow she was surprised, actually. Her stepfather was detail-oriented if nothing else, and she assumed he’d keep himself thoroughly informed on the particulars of any project. Most especially one in which her performance, or that of any other contractor, could and would reflect on him. After all, he’d provided the extra support she’d needed to get this contract in the first place. Otherwise, David Cruz and his partners made much more sense in working with a high-profile military service dog regardless of background.
Of course she’d made her arguments but to be honest, she’d understood her chances were slim initially. It’d been why she’d swallowed her pride and coordinated with her stepfather in the first place. She’d completely expected to be in the red with her stepfather for something close to forever for this particular support from him. His hesitation was unexpected.
She pushed her advantage. “Atlas is a multi-purpose trained dog. He’s not just explosives detection or search or drug detection. He’s got to be flexible and adaptable to step up to anything the team needs him to do. His missions could take him through crowded populaces as much as remote locations so he needs to be able to move through those and anything in between while still being able to focus on the task he’s been given. I want to be thorough about his rehabilitation.”
“Of course.” Her stepfather had recovered apparently and managed to get irritable in the bargain. “I’m aware of the value this asset represents. The steps required to return him to full working status, however, seem to be unorthodox.”
She counted to five, figuring she didn’t have until ten to get back on firm footing with him. “An unusual approach has proved effective, as my previous status reports demonstrated. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“He’s made progress.” Not complete, but he’d allow at least that much.
“Rehabilitation has renewed Atlas’s drive in a way simple retraining wouldn’t. He’s eager to work again and almost one hundred percent responsive.” Her pride for Atlas’s progress seeped into her tone. “David Cruz has also been very generous in sharing his expertise in training technique. I’ve found the information he’s shared valuable as well.”
In a whole lot of ways.
“According to his records, David Cruz is a creditable trainer. He wasn’t directly assigned to a military service dog while he was on active duty, though. I find it interesting that he’s chosen this profession now.” Her stepfather would have access to David’s service record. Somehow that was downright predictable.
Come to think of it, though, she didn’t know exactly why David had come to Hope’s Crossing Kennels. Funny. Each time he’d shared with her, she’d thought she’d learned so much about him. And then a moment like this demonstrated how much of his background was completely undiscovered.
She’d ask, though. Because it was something she did want to know.
“Cruz was a para rescue jumper.” Her stepfather must’ve opened David’s service record right there, on the spot, based on the pensive note in his commentary. “Air Force. Obviously not much ambition for himself, since he left the service without advancing as far as his records indicate he had the potential to achieve.”
Of course it was always about potential. What her stepfather never understood was that people measured success in different ways. Their goals weren’t the same as what he’d expect. What satisfied a person—made them feel whole—wasn’t something quantifiable or repeatable in each individual the way following a recipe to bake a cake would be.
“Self-worth isn’t always measured by promotions or advancements.” She should’ve kept her mouth shut but nope, the words had slipped out dry and disapproving as you please.
“Your opinion in this case may be biased,” her stepfather snapped. He had no tolerance for her opinions, especially when they were expressed with “attitude,” as he’d made a point to tell her back when she was younger.
He couldn’t know, though. Not about her and David. Her stomach twisted. “How so?”
“You’re working side by side with the man. Obviously you’re pleased with the cooperative arrangement.” Her stepfather huffed. “Any partnership introduces bias. You’re too close. You can’t see the forest for the trees. This is why I insisted you give me timely status reports so I can ensure you have the objective perspective this requires. That asset is too valuable to ruin with sentimentality.”
This, she could address. The idea of him knowing about her and David was too many levels of complicated. No way was she going there until she absolutely had to.
“I’ve demonstrated repeatedly my ability to accurately assess and rehabilitate dogs of a wide variety of breeds and temperaments.” And her record demonstrated it in glowing personal recommendations from her clients. “No matter how cute the tiny toy breed or how intimidating the larger breed, I approach each case with objectivity. As soft as some might consider the psychological foundation to the rehabilitation approach, it is by no means compromised by sentimentality.”
It also turned out this way. Conversation ramped up until the big words drowned out the practical meaning of the discussion. It was a contest to see who could speak with greater formality and not get caught at a loss for words. It wasn’t about the original topic anymore.
“In this case, it’s not you I have concerns over.”
Oh. Lyn rocked back on her heels. Almost uttered the gut response and ruined the whole conversation. “I see.”
“David Cruz is obviously working with Atlas in honor of the memory of his deceased friend. They served together.” Her stepfather cleared his throat. “I can sympathize to a certain extent. It’s not easy to lose the men you’ve fought beside. But at least it was overseas and in combat, as opposed to some sort of overdose or home and asleep in bed.”
Because passing away at peace in bed was the most horrible way for a person to die.
Some people were willing to put away their uniforms. Maybe not her stepfather, and she could respect him or the choice, but she also wondered if he ever gave any sort of consideration to the alternative choices people made.
“I want your status reports expanded to give me insight into how Cruz is reacting to Atlas’s progress.” Captain Jones made a clicking noise with his tongue. “My concern is that he is chasing ghosts better laid to rest instead of focusing on the task at hand. I do not want this asset put at risk because a man couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
There was an interesting way to put it.
“What would he be looking into?” Because now she wanted to know why her stepfather was coincidentally concerned with David’s investigation of Calhoun’s death. It wasn’t a secret as far as she could tell. David had mentioned openly going to the nearby military base to look over the reports.
“Every friend is convinced there are suspect circumstances around the way a man has died in service. They’re looking for a reason. Call it a form of grieving. My concern is that Cruz could become delusional, depending on how much he’s indulging in other bad habits veterans occasionally pick up once they leave the service. While you are the contractor I’ve engaged to work with this asset, he is also involved in the project and could reflect on it negatively.”
Ugh. And it was always about how things could reflect back on his reputation.
Anger had been slowly building through this latter part of the discussion. “Why single out David Cruz? There are several trainers here on site and there’ve been handlers involved with Atlas since he returned to the US. Did you keep close tabs on every one of them?”
“Once this asset came under my sphere of influence, everyone involved with it was
scrutinized, yes.” Captain Jones huffed. She could almost picture him tugging the front of his uniform straight in his annoyance. “Cruz is of particular concern both because of his service record and his direct involvement with the asset.”
She bit back an ugly retort.
Her stepfather was judging a man he’d never met and assuming the worst about him based on the unfortunate outcomes of other people’s lives. She wouldn’t deny things happened like this. Truly. It happened a lot. And she understood that.
But the men of Hope’s Crossing Kennels had built something so much better here with their energy after they’d left active duty. To suspect any of them of having succumbed to delusions or alcoholism or drug usage—any of the things her stepfather was alluding to—was so completely wrong, she couldn’t ignore it.
“These are good men here.” She said it slowly and clearly. All pretenses of friendly conversation dropped. “I would stake my reputation on the quality of their training and the kennels they’ve established. They build a safe haven and are continuing to give to the community in their own way. It’s not the Service, but it is still incredibly admirable.”
Silence. Then her stepfather cleared his throat again. “All the same, I would like reports on his approach and activities while he’s working with you and the dog. All influences on the asset are of interest to me at this time.”
“He has a name. Atlas is doing well.” He could acknowledge David as a good man and Atlas as a living soul, not a simple thing to be inventoried.
“He has a designation number and responds to the name ‘Atlas’s.” Her stepfather made the clarification. “If you want to work with more military working dogs, you should ensure you refer to them as both their designation and their name.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right. And it killed her to admit it so she kept silent.
“This could be the first of many contracts for you and you would do well to look at it as a key objective to come out as the lead trainer in this.” There he went, setting goals for somebody other than himself. Maybe it worked for the people under his command. It didn’t suit her. “I didn’t mention this at the beginning because you have a stubborn tendency to go in exact opposition to my suggestions in order to spite me. However, I hope you’ve matured enough to realize this is counterproductive to your career development and I would like to think you wouldn’t jeopardize the career you’ve worked hard to establish against my better judgment in order to spite me again.”
Of course not. He’d trapped her in logic. Go against his recommendation and she hurt her own career. Follow his suggestion and she’d be following his lead, doing exactly what he wanted her to do. He won either way.
“Working independently is admirable, Evelyn.” And there was her full first name.
She gritted her teeth.
“What it doesn’t give you experience in is leadership.” His voice took on a distinctively patronizing tone. “Only by working with people—actual humans—and earning their respect, can you learn leadership.”
“Not everyone respects you.” As soon as she said it, she snapped her mouth shut. Now she sounded petulant even to herself.
He remained unperturbed. “No. You are correct. Let’s clarify then and say you become a true leader when people follow you even if they don’t respect you because they have no choice but to acknowledge yours is the better judgment.”
Like this particular situation.
“I’m sorry you don’t like this.” He paused. “And I would like to remind you that life isn’t about getting people to like you. It’s about ensuring that what needs to be done, is. They can hate you and it wouldn’t matter so long as they do what needs doing.”
She sighed. “I’m not in the military.”
It wasn’t so much the status reports. She gave those to her clients regularly as a standard practice. Being able to see the progress of their relationship with their dog over time positively reinforced the hard work involved and illustrated the value of her services. But she didn’t work with people or dogs who didn’t like her. If she wasn’t able to build a rapport, she refunded the money and dissolved the contract.
“No, but this would be true in any corporate environment.” She didn’t hear it but she could picture him shrugging.
A key reason she’d chosen a profession with the flexibility and freedom she had now. It hadn’t been the easy path by any means. But it had been truer to the way she wanted to spend her time.
“All of this complexity is only conjecture and words.” She’d had enough of both. “For me, it boils down to a simple truth. I like dogs better than I like people. I will continue to work with Atlas because I want to see him happy.”
“A working dog is happy working. Not so different from a worthwhile human being.” Her stepfather continued with his inexorable logic.
God, was he never wrong?
“I think we’ve beat this conversation into the ground.” She was definitely worn out from it. He always did this to her. Give him another ten minutes and she’d have a raging migraine.
“Fine. I want your agreement, though, that you will update your status reports in accordance with my request.”
She sighed. Anything. Anything at all to end this. “You did not make a request. You instructed me. Understood. I’ll have a report ready tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
She’d accuse him of needing to have the final word but he hadn’t terminated the call. He was waiting for her to acknowledge him. Damn it. Forget time in the Service. Her stepfather alone was enough to drive her to heavy drinking.
A brisk knock scared her right out of her thoughts.
“Lyn?” David’s voice came through the door.
“Fine. Tonight.” She ended the call before her stepfather could hear anything more or say anything to put her in an even worse frame of mind.
Chapter Seventeen
David let himself into the cabin, scanning the room more out of habit than any suspicion of someone in there with Lyn. She’d have found a way to warn him. His girl had a good head on her shoulders, after all. The last couple of days had proved it.
Something was off, though. Lyn had a deer-in-headlights look on her face and while it was adorable, he didn’t think she intended for him to read her so easily. She was used to reading the dogs and people around her, not the other way around. Her ability to detect bullshit seemed as fine-tuned as any delicate instrument, but he’d developed his perception around some of the most closed-off personalities a person could come into contact with and remain sane.
So to him, her expressions and body language were an open book. One he enjoyed reading as he ran his hands over her, kissed her into quiet desperation.
Her current tension wasn’t anticipation and nothing about her posture was an invitation. He was a little disappointed actually, but more immediately he was concerned.
“What’s wrong?” And whatever it was, he wanted to eliminate it.
She blinked. Panic flashed in those big blue eyes for a second before she got hold of herself. “Oh. Nothing.”
Uh huh. Try again, darling. “I could guess, but we both know this would go a lot faster if you told me so I could help you.”
She laughed, a short huff of dry humor. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to avoid introducing you to even the concept of my stepfather.”
His stomach dropped. Guess introducing him to the family wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Funny, the idea of introducing her to his hadn’t occurred to him but the idea of not hit him in the gut. Hard.
Her gaze was on him now and she took a step toward him. “I’d love for you to meet my mother someday. If the idea of it doesn’t make you want to pack your bags and head someplace far, far away. It’s just introducing you to my stepfather would mean I’d have to see my stepfather and I try to avoid him pretty much all the time.”
The sucker-punched sensation eased up a bit and he took a slow breath. “Okay. I take it you talk to yo
ur stepfather on the phone, though.”
Had to be who he’d heard her talking to if the man was at the forefront of her mind. He’d not wanted to eavesdrop though. It’d been why he knocked and waited for her to tell him it was okay to enter. Suddenly, he was more careful of her personal space than he’d be with normal people. He honestly couldn’t care less if he got other people upset but her—well, things had evolved.
“Yeah.” She drew out the confirmation as she looked away, out the window. Obviously she had a lot on her mind when it came to her stepfather. “Recently more so than the last several years.”
And not in a good way, apparently.
“Yeah?” In his experience, family had a way of coming in and out of life, sort of the way comets were gone for years then back in the night sky. Signs of the Apocalypse, too. “Any family trouble?”
Lyn shook her head. “More of a disagreement.”
She scrunched up her face, the tip of her tongue showing.
Damn, she was adorable and sexy simultaneously. He had no idea how she managed it but he liked it. A lot.
“Most of my discussions with him are disagreements, really. So it’s not a surprise. It’s just frustrating.”
David didn’t know what to say. He waited and when her weight shifted forward as if she was about to walk toward him, he opened his arms in invitation.
She came to him without hesitation and snuggled deep as he closed his arms around her. Warmth spread through him and he dropped a kiss on her hair. She might never understand how much it meant to him, the way she’d come to him. No hesitation. No fear. No reservations. Every time she did it, he came unhinged. “Family always seems to know the exact buttons to push.”
She nodded, her face pressed against his chest. “Mmm hmm.”
After a moment, her arms slipped around his waist. He was pretty happy to stand there and enjoy.
But Lyn wasn’t the type to be silent for long. He grinned when her head popped up, almost catching him in the chin. “What buttons does your family push?”
Oh, hell. “There’s a heavy answer to what you probably meant to be a light question.”
