Trinity: Military War Dog

by Ronie Kendig

  “IED in the mountains.” Heath held up the right hand Trinity had permanently marked. “Trinity saved my life, but the concussion from the blast and the shrapnel that sliced my thick skull put me out.”

  Squinting against the sun, Aspen nodded to Trinity. “And her?”

  That was a story he didn’t deserve, the undying loyalty and devotion of a creature with a pure heart. “When they sent me stateside, she refused to work with other handlers. So they retired her—gave me first dibs.”

  Aspen wrinkled her nose and looked at Jibril. “I’ll be honest. I’m not sure about this.”

  “It will take time, but I think it will help him, and you.”

  “I’m not sure Talon—” Aspen froze as the yellow Lab ducked at the mention of his name. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy.” She rushed to his side and knelt. “It’s okay,” she crooned as she stroked his head.

  “Don’t baby him.”

  Aspen looked up at Heath. “What?”

  “He’s going to read your soft voice as a reward for cowering. He’s a trained soldier, a warrior, a killer. Even though some people don’t like the sound of that, it’s true. He’s trained to take down terrorists, men with bad intentions, and rout explosives from hot spots. He’s not a pampered pet. Don’t treat him like one. Give him some respect.”

  “But he’s scared.”

  “I guarantee while your brother loved that animal, he didn’t baby him. They were partners in combat, not out for a playdate.”

  She let out a small grunt with a smile. “Point taken.”

  A dog bounded out of a Jeep and through the gate. Crap, that isn’t a dog. It’s the Hound of Hell.

  “Ah, Timbrel. Welcome! I am Jibril Khouri.”

  Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and hiking boots, the woman exuded attitude as she tugged down the brim of her baseball cap. The wind teased the brown ponytail dangling out the back. “I never miss a party.”

  Something in Heath’s stomach churned. Young. Immature. What was she doing with a beast of a dog like that? Hadn’t Jibril said all dogs were former MWDs? This one, too?

  “Beowulf is as handsome as ever,” Aspen said.

  “I wouldn’t have any other man.” Miss Jeep sauntered through and latched the gate.

  Heath shoved his attention back to the drool-bombing dog. No wonder the woman named him Beowulf. Or maybe it was because of the dog’s good looks. Trinity, ears flattened, had her hackles up as the beast let out a bark that seemed to send ripples through the fabric of time and space. Lip curled, canines exposed, Trinity held her ground as she watched the beast out of the corner of her eye.

  “Hey,” Heath called to the owner. “Get your dog under control.”

  “Relax, Prince Charming. He’s just having fun.” Timbrel laughed. “I sure hope your girl is fixed.”

  Heath’s heart pounded. “Don’t blame me if your dog goes home with a chunk of his throat missing.”

  Timbrel seemed to feed off his warning. “May the best dog win, eh?”

  “Timmy,” Aspen said, her voice soft but reproachful.

  “Okay, fine.” With one snap of her fingers, Timbrel brought her mountain of a brown-brindled mutt to her side. She bounced her shoulders with a smirk. “If only I could control men with such ease.”

  Heath wanted to laugh, but something about this chick grated on him. “If you approach relationships the way you do him, I bet you’re single.”

  “Men have two things on their minds: money, which they’re not getting from me, and sex, which they’re also not getting from me.” She crouched and kissed the mutt, whose jowls were coated in slobber. With a slurping noise that made Heath cringe from six feet away, Beowulf returned the love. “Beo wants nothing but to be with me. He protects me and won’t leave me, unless”—she stood and gave a flick of her wrist at thigh level—“I tell him to.”

  Despite his broad, stocky build, indicating strength not speed, Beowulf sprinted down the field and skidded to a stop, waiting. “Now, see? If getting rid of guys could be as easy …”

  Heath shook his head. “No wonder they put you out of the Navy.”

  Her eyes flamed but she didn’t miss a beat. “Want to see what he does to men I don’t like?”

  Heath chuckled. “No thanks. My girl would take your dog down, and I’d hate to see you lose the only ‘guy’ willing to kiss you.”

  Her eyebrow arched, challenge scratched into her expression. “Oh, Prince Charming.” Her caustic, hollow laugh bounced off the obstacle course equipment. “I think you’re going to eat those words and beg for mercy.”

  Heath flared his nostrils. “I never beg.”

  “Game on, Hot Snot.”

  Jibril laughed. “That’s quite the introduction. But, let me tell you why we’re here.” He motioned everyone closer. “I’ve invited the three of you here for a business proposition.”

  Aspen leaned against one of the ramps. “And what is that?”

  “Train your dogs.”

  “Look,” Miss Jeep snipped. “I came out here because Aspen knows your sister and said I could trust her, but … this just reeks.”

  “Like your attitude,” Heath muttered. He’d dealt with worse. Heath pointed to the man he’d served in combat with. “Jibril is one of the best men I know. He doesn’t talk often, but when he does, it’s worth listening to.”

  “Miss Hogan,” Jibril said. “I bought this property so handlers like yourself, Miss Courtland, and Ghost could continue training your dogs, and possibly others.”

  “To what end?”

  “Once you are comfortable with your dog’s training and progress, I would ask that you allow me to place each dog-handler team on the grid.”

  “Grid?” Heath couldn’t stop the frown. Grid sounded too much like combat. Being messed up the way he was with traumatic brain injury, he wasn’t looking to press his luck.

  “Yes, make your services available to others who might need your help.” Jibril’s smile this time hung an inch from genuine. “My sister, Khaterah, is a veterinarian. She’s agreed to treat your dogs.”

  “Then … why do you seem like you aren’t happy?” Heath had known Jibril long enough to see through that.

  His friend’s face fell for a fraction, but when his gaze hit Heath’s, he shrugged. “We have a difference of opinion on a few things.”

  Aspen offered a smile. “Khat is one of the most beautiful women I know—inside and out. She loves animals and hates violence.”

  “Who likes it?”

  “You.” Jibril’s green eyes held Heath’s. “Me—according to her. Since we were in the military, since you train your dogs to protect, she believes it breeds violence.”

  Heath raised his hands. “Okay. Got it. So, who would be hiring us?”

  “It would all be contract work. I’ve seen interest from companies who have contractors on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan. I’ve even seen interest from our own military. They’ve seen the great benefit of war dogs and will pay nice fees to have a for-hire availability.”

  Heath pursed his lips, considering the info. “HPT and VIP escorts, etcetera?”

  “Roger.” Jibril grinned.

  “I like the idea,” Hogan said. “But what’s this to you? Why are you doing it?”

  Though tempted to roll his eyes again, Heath remained neutral as Jibril moved toward a central position among the four of them—is he limping?—and bent down.

  “Two years ago, I was a Green Beret.” He tugged up his right pant leg … up … up. Until shiny black and silver metal glinted in the sun. A prosthesis. “Were it not for Trinity and Ghost, I would not have just lost my leg that day. I would have lost my life.”

  Three

  Hindu Kush, Afghanistan

  One Week Later

  A cool breeze slid across Darci’s shoulders, swirled around her bare neck, and trailed down her spine. She drew her legs closer as she sat on a small outcropping and laid aside her field notebook and pencil. Though she’d climbed higher mountai
ns than the one that cradled her now, there was something forbidding, ominous about the Hindu Kush. Rugged, brutal beauty towered over her, as if daring her to carry out the mission. Her most dangerous to date. But she was up for it. She had to be.

  Glancing at her field book, she groaned. A week of field mapping and field checking the Russian geologic maps for validity amounted to seven days of backbreaking hammering, measuring, sketching …

  “In other words, mind-numbingly boring.” She freed her jet-black hair from the elastic and rubbed her scalp, letting the wind whip it free and loose.

  Though she’d gone out each night searching, she’d found nothing. No sign of her targets. If she didn’t find something soon, she’d have to go back a failure.

  She’d never failed a mission or her commanding officer. Her dedication and commitment to her country and its foundations forbade her from allowing defeat.

  A yawn tugged at her, and she rubbed a hand over her face, trying to shake off the sleepiness. As she did, a striation in the rock below caught her attention. Darci tilted her head, then brought herself forward onto all fours. Gingerly, she peeked over the lip of the outcropping. Straight down—more than seventy feet. She grinned at the challenge.

  But no—her focus. The lighter striation. With care, she dug her fingers into the rocks and wedged her toes into the lateral clefts running along the cliff face. Air rushed up at her. Gravity pulled at her limbs. She smiled as her pulse ramped.

  “What are you doing?”

  The gruff voice struck Darci. Her foot slipped. Rocks dribbled down.

  She bit down on a curse as she caught herself, palms sweating against the adrenaline jolt. Peeking up and over to her left, she spied Peter Toque glaring at her. “Tempting fate.”

  “You’ve got to be the stupidest, most pigheaded …”

  Darci blew out a breath and inched away from the ledge. She’d have to check out the striation later—it looked like a hidden path, popular among terrorists to scurry from one location to another. And if that was true, it could lead her to the targets. It fit, didn’t it? Well hidden. High in the mountains.

  Definitely.

  But she’d given bad intel once before, and it had cost … too much. She wouldn’t make that mistake again if she could help it. She’d verify her suspicions later. Courage rose on the bitter wind, steeling her against fear that had threatened to overtake her earlier.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of this rock?” She glared back as she lifted her field notebook and pencil.

  “We finished an hour ago.”

  “Wow, and you already turned in your field slips and sketches to Dr. Colsen?” Darci would not let this wad of muscle and testosterone get to her. He’d shadowed her every move since they’d landed at Bagram Airfield last week.

  “I was on my way back.”

  “Right.” She aimed herself in the direction where her field partner, Alice Ward, worked.

  “Hey.”

  A jerk on her arm spun her around—straight into Toque. If she didn’t find him so irritating, she might be willing to admit he had the looks most girls wanted. Angular jawline. Height. Muscle. Blue eyes. But then there was his arrogance.

  “What you were doing is dangerous.”

  She flared her nostrils. “So is touching me.”

  He released her arm. “Look, I’m just—”

  “Save it.”

  “You’re not the only one here. And this isn’t exactly Central Park.”

  “If you’d put as much effort into your job in the field as you do in trailing me like a lovesick puppy, maybe we’d be done and back at Bagram, analyzing the maps and able to figure out our next steps.”

  “Lovesi—” Toque clamped down on the words and shook his head.

  She rounded a bend in the path and almost collided with Alice. Despite the jet-black hair—dyed, not natural like Darci’s Asian-black—nose ring, and kohl-lined eyes, the girl was as sweet as they came. And she had a Texas-sized crush on the cad behind Darci.

  “Jia.” The girl’s voice and gaze dropped when she saw Toque. “Are you done?”

  Darci nodded to the red streaks in the sky. “Night’s coming. We should head back.”

  When they stepped into the cluster of tents set up on the plain central to the area they were testing for lithium deposits, Darci stomped toward her tent. Five tents formed a circular perimeter with a fire pit in the middle. One half of the larger tents served as the communications hub, replete with computers and equipment Darci could barely spit out the names for, while the other half sported a long table with two benches used for conferences and meals.

  “Hey, Jaekus. You missed all the fun.” Toque grabbed a tin cup and poured himself a hot drink from the large steel drum. “Jia there was scaling the cliff when I found her—should’ve been there with her.”

  Something about Peter Toque unsettled her and left her guessing. Darci couldn’t put her finger on it, but she would. Soon enough.

  Perched atop one of the field chests, Jaekus raised an eyebrow at Darci. “Rock climbing again, eh?”

  Darci shrugged. “I saw some unusual striations in the rock. Wanted to check it out.”

  “You have killer instincts, Darci. Trust them.” The general’s admonishment years ago had come at a high cost—her first and only training failure.

  “Well, no more of that.” Dr. Colsen ducked as he stepped out of his tent. His muddy brown eyes glared as he dropped into a chair around the hub of chairs and makeshift tables. “I won’t be responsible—or have this expedition canceled—because someone took unnecessary risks and got herself hurt or killed.”

  “It was necessary, and remember? I’m a certified rock climber.” She might not have the alphabet soup behind her name that he did, but the crash course the general had secured for her enabled her to perform on a level regarding geology with those around her—at least enough to buy time. Dr. Richard Colsen objected to her overseeing the lead on the team, but the man objected to just about everything that wasn’t his idea.

  “I don’t care what you are—except a member of this survey team. If you—”

  “All right, all right, old man.” Toque pushed off the chest. “Give it a rest.”

  “You listen here,” Colsen said, his face reddening. “This is my project and my name. If I say—”

  “Dr. Colsen,” Darci said as she joined the team, resting an arm around him. “What results have you found about the samples we brought back already? Are they showing significance?”

  The ruddiness bled from his face until the normal, pale color returned. “No.” He looked like a grumpy, old man right now. The professor’s failing health relegated him to rock analysis instead of the rigorous workout required to carry out the research. Just shy of seventy, how long would he last up here with the thinner air, the rigorous hiking? Maybe it was a good thing he’d elected to remain at the camp while they hiked to check out the terrain today.

  It also allowed her time to recon.

  “However,” he said, snapping her attention to him. “One of the samples Jia brought back from the northeastern grid does show promising signs.” His gaze rose to hers, and she saw the approval and thanks for rescuing yet another souring conversation among the team. “We’ll look into it further back at the base. When we return in a week, hopefully we can map it out and get the full scope of what’s out there.”

  That worked in Darci’s favor. She needed to report in, gather her thoughts, and figure out a contingency plan. That odd striation in the rock plucked at her conscience again. If she could get to the path—it has to be a path!—she was certain she’d find a gold mine. She needed to collect samples while she collected information. But Toque was on her back 24/7.

  Which meant when they returned, she’d have to ditch the shadow.

  A Breed Apart Ranch

  Texas Hill Country

  Swaying as if urging Heath onward, the branches shook their limbs at him, void of leaves and weight in the cold Februar
y morning. Heath hit the trail that snaked through the trees. The path coiled up and around A Breed Apart’s beautiful, expansive setting. Jogging cleared his mind and strengthened his body—and Trinity’s. She kept pace without a hint of complaint.

  A month. They’d been at this a month, running and training, pushing as he pressed toward the goal of shedding his weakness, headaches, blackouts. The Army had severed his career with the Green Berets because headaches and subsequent blackouts, which occurred when the exercise became too strenuous, left him unreliable. A danger. To himself. To his buddies.

  But thirty-two days of fresh outdoor exercise and stress-free workouts in the hills had brought about a significant difference in his stamina and nudged his body toward health. His mind toward all he had to be thankful for these days.

  With each foot he planted, Heath felt closer to victory, to “normal.”

  As he ran the trail, going higher and longer each time, he couldn’t escape the irony. First, he and Trinity had been paired up, put through the dog-handler program at Lackland Air Force Base. Nearly five months of training spent there in San Antonio with brutal, suffocating heat, then further training for Special Operations Command. All so they were there that day to save Jibril, who came home—alive. Started A Breed Apart, which gave Heath hope that he hadn’t reached the end of his usefulness.

  Who was saving whom?

  Because of his PTSD and TBI diagnoses, he wouldn’t be cleared to return to his Special Forces unit, but maybe he and Trinity could provide some benefit if the chaplaincy fell through. That was his first goal—make chaplain so they’d send him back to the action. To the adrenaline. Serve with the guys. Be one of them again.

  At the summit, Heath stood on a ledge that protruded from the cliff, noting the throb at the base of his skull. In recent days, the effects were much reduced.

  Lowering himself to the rocky lip brought Trinity to his side. He wrapped his arm around her, the sun glistening across her tan hues, making the amber color richer. Around her broad chest, shoulders, and hindquarters, it looked as if an artist had shaded her coat with charcoal. But what made him fall in love with the Belgian Malinois was her almost completely black mask. At times, when the sun set just right on her coat, it almost seemed as if her black mask were the burned sections, indicative of the fire brimming beneath. And man, was there ever fire in this dog’s belly that streamed out through her amber eyes.