by Ronie Kendig
“I know.”
“He had a gun.”
“Shh.”
“But he was General Burnett’s personal aide!” She knew him. Trusted him. Talked to him. How…?
“You sorry piece of—” Burnett slammed his fist into Otte’s nose.
The man crumpled beneath the punch.
“Get him out of my sight,” General Burnett shouted, drawing Darci around. She looked over her shoulder as MPs cuffed and dragged Otte out of the room.
“Mei Mei.”
Tears blurred her vision at the “little sister” nickname. She tilted her head and looked at her brother. “I have not heard that name in a very long time.” She went into his arms.
Haur held her tight.
“I have missed you.” Clinging to him, to the piece of family she’d been without, she regained what she lost with her mother’s death.
He kissed the top of her head. “You look so much like our mother. How could I not know?”
“And you look like him.” She laughed. “You even sound like—”
Crack!
The sound of the shot swung Darci around.
Eyes wide, face taut, Heath stared down the barrel of his gun—aimed in their direction. Slowly, he lowered it, his chest heaving.
“He overpowered me,” someone behind her said.
Darci turned around. Propped against a wall, lay Jianyu. Dead.
Shaken, she looked back at Heath. She hauled in a breath that was undeterred when he gave her a halfhearted smile.
Heath winked. “I promised myself he wouldn’t take anything from you again.”
He saved her. Again. She eased away from her brother—my brother!—and went to Heath. “I owe you my life.”
A lopsided grin tugged at his face as he stared down at her. Warmth swirled through her belly at the way he looked at her, with those beautiful gray eyes, that crooked smile.
Cupping her face, he stroked her jaw. “You owe me a kiss.”
Darci stretched up on her toes, ignoring the fingers of pain scratching at her ribs. They were outmatched by the nervous jellies as Heath’s arm encircled her in a firm but gentle hold. She stiffened for a second, darted a look into those steely eyes, then pressed her lips to his.
His kiss was light … tender, searching … firmer.
Darci melted into his arms as he deepened the kiss.
Applause erupted, along with shouts.
Trinity barked.
“Jealous,” Heath murmured against her lips to his partner, then leaned in again.
Epilogue
A Breed Apart Ranch,
Texas Hill Country
It’d been four long, excruciating months. No calls. No letters. No texts. No nothing.
Heath sat on the edge of the cliff overlooking A Breed Apart. He had a lot to be thankful for, the most important one that he could put genuine belief behind those talks he’d give at the bases. And there were more than a dozen gigs lined up since returning from Afghanistan, but he’d asked Jibril to give him a few months off.
He had hoped to spend that time with a certain woman.
But she hadn’t reconnected since they’d had to go their separate ways—her, home to D.C. with her recuperating father and her newfound brother. Him, to Texas to reinvent himself, accept God’s path, no matter the journey.
No matter the journey.
“Beautiful,” came the gruff voice from behind.
Heath nodded, his gaze caressing the cloud-streaked sky. “Better than the view from your room at the Soldier’s Home, don’t you think?”
“That place was depressing!”
Heath climbed to his feet and moved to his uncle’s all-terrain wheelchair. Heath had bought the contraption when he returned to an uncle who’d found his second wind. Crouching beside the old general, Heath sighed.
God had his back. No doubt. That he got some more years with his uncle … “Sure am glad you’re better so we could share this.”
Emotion rippled through Uncle Bob’s face followed by a trembling lip, then a jutting jaw. “Bed was uncomfortable.”
“Hardened veteran like you? They should’ve given you a cot.”
A smile danced along the weathered lips.
“I’d better get you back down before Claire has my hide.”
“I’m fine. She’s not my CO.”
“No, she’s your wife now.”
“Same difference.”
Heath chuckled, thinking through the whole wife thing. By the time he’d returned, his uncle was up and barking. Claire ordered him to the altar within a month. His uncle complained loud and hard all the way to the chapel, but Heath had never seen the light in the man’s face so bright. Claire was good for General Robert Daniels.
Would Darci have been good for Heath? Did it matter? Four months and no sign of the woman. What if Darci didn’t want to be part of his life? What if she decided their time together had been too fraught with action and drama? Too risky to risk love?
Because that’s where he was. He loved that woman. No question about it.
Trinity trotted to his side, a branch in her mouth.
“Goof,” he muttered, tugging it free. “I’ve got your ball right—”
Trinity went rigid. Radar-ears swiveling as she struck a “seek” pose, aimed in the direction of the house. Heath followed her lead. Sunlight glinted against a white luxury SUV as it wound toward the ranch.
Heath couldn’t help the hiccup in his chest. He wanted it to be her. Please be Darci … But he’d done that for three months with no luck.
The car turned into the drive.
Heath pushed to his feet, watching. “It could be anyone. Another speaking gig request.”
“And you called me the fool?”
“Not to your face.”
His uncle chuckled.
Trinity wagged her tail.
“Guess we should check it out.”
Trinity sprinted down the path.
“Cheater!” Heath released the brake and aimed his uncle back to the jogging path, trailing after Trinity. Ironic how a little hypothermia had somehow corrected—no, that wasn’t the right word—warded off? No, not quite right even still—well, whatever. The TBI hadn’t manifested since his return, no matter how rigorous his workouts. His physical therapist suggested the good freezing through he’d gotten might have alleviated the nerve pressure that made his brain fry.
Whatever happened, Heath was glad. The symptoms could return, but he was done wrestling God. Clearly, the Lord had a plan for his life. And he would spend the rest of his days figuring it out, one day at a time.
“Slow down before you kill me!”
Heath complied as he broke through the clearing. Two women stood at the foot of the home, talking.
“See?” Pride shone in his uncle’s voice as Claire waved and started toward them. “Commanding officer.”
“Well, someone has to keep you in line.”
His uncle smiled and pointed a shaky finger toward the other woman. “Yeah? Well, she’s got your chain.”
Heath’s blood chugged at the words as he relinquished control of his uncle’s wheelchair to Claire, who smiled but said nothing. She didn’t have to. Women had that look that seemed to say they know everything. Heath slowed at the vision before him. Man, she did crazy things to his pulse.
In a pair of jeans and a white sweater, Darci smiled at him, accepting Trinity’s kisses. “I think she remembers me.”
“You’re hard to forget.”
Darci’s smile grew. She straightened and strode toward him, her gaze traipsing over the valley. “So, this is the ranch.”
After killing the man who’d devastated her, he’d thought of nothing but that kiss at Bagram. And now, he couldn’t think of anything else again. “Figured that out all by yourself?”
Quiet wrapped around them as they strolled across the property, driving him crazy, but the comfort of her presence kept his anxiety at bay. She’d come. That meant something. And he hoped it
meant something big. Heath kept pace, enjoying the simple fact that she was here. With him. No matter how long she stayed.
“I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Heath snapped off a branch from a leafless tree. “Did you have doubts?”
“No, I had family.” Darci sighed. “I resigned my commission with DIA.”
“What … why? I thought you liked it. You were good as all get-out.”
A pained expression stole over her beautiful face. “It took too much of me already.” She surveyed the surroundings, then slowly brought her gaze back to him. “I think I’m ready for a slower pace.”
Rapid-fire had nothing on his heartbeat.
Darci turned. “Haur is taking over my commission. He hasn’t accepted it officially, but …” She scrunched her shoulders. “He’s staying with my dad in D.C.”
What a heady statement. “And you aren’t?”
The prettiest color seeped into her cheeks.
He couldn’t breathe. Please, let this mean what I think it means. “Does that mean you’re here to stay?”
“Well.” Darci turned and looked back at the house, still blushing. “Jibril offered me a job as assistant manager.” Squinting to avoid the sun behind him as she peeked up at him, she shrugged. “His sister invited me to stay with her until …”
Heath grinned. “I like where this is going.”
“Where, exactly, is this going? I mean, we don’t really even know each other. We spent two weeks together, on and off, in the mountains.”
Chuckling, Heath stared down at her, dead certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. “That two weeks took about two years off my life. I died for you, remember?”
Playfully, she punched his gut.
Hooking a hand around the back of her neck, Heath tugged her closer. Kissed her. “I have no doubts I love you, Darci. Some day, when you’re as sure as I am, I hope you’ll marry me.”
Both hands pressed to his chest, she leaned into him. “Are you asking?”
“No.” Loving the disconcerted look she gave him, he kissed her again. “I’m begging.”
Continue the adventure of these amazing dogs and their handlers with book two of the A Breed Apart series, Talon: Combat Tracking Team. Enjoy this excerpt below!
One Year Ago
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
Flames roared into the sky. A concussive boom punched the oxygen from the air. Eating an IED, the lead Cougar MRAP in the convoy flipped up. As if dancing atop the raging inferno. Shrapnel hurtled from the blast.
“Buffalo! Buffalo!” Sergeant Dane Markoski shouted into the mic, hoping to hear from the lead vehicle.
“Anything?” Gunnery Sergeant Austin Courtland coiled his hand around the lead of his combat tracking team dog. Talon stood braced, alert. His bark reverberated through the steel hull in warning.
Dane shook his head. “Report!” Peering through the cloud of black smoke and debris, he searched the chaos to make sure the others were alive still.
A breeze stirred the flames just in time to see an RPG streaking toward the front end of their MRAP.
“Get out, get out, get out!” Courtland and Talon launched out the back door.
“Oh cr—”
BOOM!
The MRAP bucked against the blast but held. Whiplash had nothing on the ramming sensation pounding into his chest now. Fire burst through the engine.
Coming from Barbour Publishing in May 2013!
About the Author
Ronie Kendig grew up an Army brat and married a veteran. Her life is never dull in a family with four children and three dogs. She has a degree in psychology, speaks to various groups, is active in the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and mentors new writers. Ronie can be found at www.roniekendig.com, on Facebook (www.facebook.com/rapidfirefiction), Twitter (@roniekendig), and GoodReads.
Loyal Protectors
What follows is a true account written by an Air Force handler. I hope you find Elgin and Max’s story as inspiring as I did, and that perhaps, we all will realize our military heroes come in many shapes and sizes, especially the four-legged kind.
God bless our troops, veterans, and MWDs, abroad and at home!
Ronie Kendig
“MAX” J216
During my Air Force years, I had the pleasure of being selected and trained as a Military War Dog (MWD) handler. Over the course of my twelve-year Air Force career, I handled and trained many dogs for law enforcement and force protection. Out of all the dogs I ever worked with, MWD Max will forever be my favorite. Max was a 65-68 lbs Australian shepherd–pit bull mix. He was a beige lean-and-mean machine with a heart of gold and truly loved his handlers and all children. The Department of Defense had trained Max as a Patrol Bomb dog.
The month and year was January 1987. Max and I were assigned a graveyard patrol on Fairchild AFB (Spokane). As part of our duties, we were required to do random common-area building checks in search of illegal explosives and weapons. During the completion of one such common-area search, Max and I began to walk across a parking lot to our patrol car. Suddenly and without warning, both of my feet went flying out from under me and down I went, with a crack, onto the frozen asphalt. My head impacted the ground, and I lost consciousness.
I later awoke to the sound of Max standing across my middle torso and growling at my buddies and fellow patrolmen as they were trying to check on me. Max knew his role was not only as my partner, but also as my protector, and Max knew I was hurt. Max was in no way, shape, or form, going to let further harm come to me.
As soon as I had enough faculties to realize what was occurring, I told Max “Out” (the command to cease aggression) and began to talk with him in a normal tone. Max touched his wet, cold nose to my face and then “permitted” a fellow patrolman to lead him back to our patrol car. As I sat up, I looked across the parking lot and saw Max looking directly at me without so much as a flinch. Fortunately, the injury I sustained that night was a bump to the back of my hat holder (head). Nothing very bad.
By Max’s actions that night, his undying love for and loyalty to me, I knew no harm would ever come to me as long as he was at my side.
MWD Max J216 lived to be thirteen years old. Postdeath the base flag at Fairchild AFB was flown at half-staff. I later received Max’s flag as a gift, and to this day it is proudly displayed in my office in a shadow box inscribed with his name, service number, and dates of service.
God bless you, Max. I miss you, buddy!
Elgin Shaw
U.S. Air Force 1982–94
John Burnam Monument Foundation
John Burnam, a Vietnam-era dog handler, formed the John Burnam Monument Foundation (JBMF) to raise an estimated $950,000 needed to build and maintain this long overdue National Monument to honor the heroic U.S. military dog handlers and their incredible working dogs.
Please consider making a donation in honor of the four-legged heroes who have protected their human counterparts and hundreds of thousands of troops throughout history.
