Extreme Honor

by Piper J. Drake

The cabin he’d put her in late last night wasn’t far. Its proximity to the main building and kennels was the reason he’d given it to her in the first place.

  When she fumbled at her pockets for the key, he reached up behind the lamp fixture high above the door and pulled out the spare. Once he had the door open, he kept an eye on Atlas. The dog didn’t signal that he detected any humans.

  In fact, Atlas had simply walked along with Lyn calm as you please, as if he hadn’t broken training and gone after a man not so long ago.

  They entered the cabin and he flipped on the light, then nudged her toward the kitchen.

  Once he had her there, he turned on the brighter kitchen lighting and turned to her. “Let me get a look at your wrist.”

  She held both hands out to him, palms up.

  “Don’t strain your shoulder.” He tucked her left arm back in its sling. As gently as he could, he touched the angry red abrasion around her right wrist.

  “He didn’t mean to do it.”

  “He had other things on his mind.” Cruz agreed. She must’ve tried to hold Atlas when the dog had lunged after the intruder. Atlas had literally ripped the leash off her wrist. “Any sharp pain when I do this?”

  He bent her hand at the wrist, carefully testing the range of motion.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think anything is broken. Only lost a couple of layers of skin is all.”

  “Well, let’s make sure it heals up quickly.” He put a hand on either side of her waist and hoisted her up—hiding a grin as she squeaked—and sat her on the kitchen counter. First of all, he liked her sound effects. Wondered what others she might have. Second, she didn’t flinch at his touch. A good sign she was recovering from the previous night’s scare even better than she might notice herself.

  Atlas gave a short bark.

  “Af.” Cruz watched as the dog’s ears came forward, considering. Then he lay down on his belly, head up, watching.

  Dog definitely had a thing for Miss Lyn Jones. And wow had Atlas woken up. The difference between yesterday and right now was night and day.

  Cruz shook his head.

  “I’m sorry.” Lyn shifted on the counter.

  “No. Not you.” He turned and pulled a go bag from under the sink. A quick rummage inside and he pulled out one of his personal med kits.

  “What is that? How do you know where things are?” Lyn craned her neck to see around him. “Is every cabin stocked like this?”

  “No.” Setting the kit on the counter beside her, he opened it up and pulled out a few supplies.

  “Then how do you know where everything is?”

  “This was my cabin.”

  She paused. “Oh, um.”

  He waved a hand toward the rest of the cabin. “It was more secure, so I put you here and I moved out to the guest cabin closer to the edge of the property.”

  “But you had to move all your stuff?” She sounded uncomfortable.

  “Not really. I don’t keep much aside from essentials.” He realized he was starting to scowl, but it wasn’t because she was making him angry. Why was it that the woman could be attacked twice in less than twenty-four hours, hurt both times, and worried about him having to move his stuff? “It really is okay. I prefer to be farther away from the main house anyway. Too many guests on the property once the basic obedience classes get started.”

  “Okay.” She was chewing on her lower lip, still concerned.

  Saying more would only make her think on it harder so he decided to drop the topic. Nice to know she did care about putting others out of their way. He’d have done it regardless, all things considered. But it made it better to not be taken for granted.

  “We’re going to clean your wrist and get the blood flowing a little. Then I’ll get some antibiotic ointment on it.”

  She didn’t comment. Her dubious frown made him smile though.

  “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re not going to tell me it’s not going to hurt, are you?” She narrowed her eyes.

  He shrugged. “It’s not gonna tickle exactly.”

  “Joyful.” She held out her wrist to him.

  It took less time to clean her wrist under cool running water in the sink than it had to patch up Atlas. Her skin was delicate, smooth and silken to touch. If her wrist was this soft, he couldn’t help but wonder about other, more tender places.

  Nope. Keep on task, he ordered himself. He patted the area dry and spread the antibiotic cream over the abrasion as gently as he could.

  “For such big hands, you’ve got a really light touch.” Her words were slurred a little. She must’ve been coming down off the adrenaline kick. Considering last night and today, she had to be exhausted.

  “Yeah?” He wrapped sterile gauze around her slender wrist, mostly to remind her not to bump it into things.

  “Your fingertips are calloused, a lil’ rough.”

  That didn’t sound like a compliment. “Sorry.”

  “No, I like it. It feels kinda good on my skin.”

  Her heart rate had picked up, fluttering at the pulse point under his touch.

  “Yeah?” The urge to slide has hands over more delicate areas increased and he couldn’t help running his thumb along the inside of her arm.

  Awareness grew in her gaze and she bit her lip as she nodded.

  He leaned toward her, focused on her plump lip caught under her teeth.

  “What else do you like?”

  She opened her mouth to answer but he didn’t plan to let her get a word out. Maybe later. He bent his head to capture her lips.

  And seventy-five pounds of fur jumped up on his side.

  “The hell?”

  Lyn gasped. “Atlas!”

  “Af.” Mindful of the dog’s injury, Cruz gave Atlas a gentle shove.

  The dog dropped back to all fours, his tongue lolling. Looking from him to Lyn and back again, Atlas lay back down on his belly.

  Jealous. Damn dog was jealous.

  Chapter Four

  Rest. Relax. For how long?” Lyn sat on the couch in the main area of the cabin, tapping her fingers on the windowsill. It wasn’t as if she’d broken anything.

  David had left only a few minutes ago. And to his credit, he’d mentioned something about lunch as he’d left.

  It was already past mid-morning so unless he planned to starve her, lunch couldn’t be too far off.

  Patience had never been one of her virtues, though.

  “At least he left you with me.” She turned away from the windowsill and studied Atlas.

  The dog lay stretched out on the floor with his head on his paws, as close to her perch on the couch as possible. He’d opened his eyes and lifted his big ears in her direction at her movement.

  “You are my job, after all.” She continued to consider him.

  His attitude really had changed overnight. The look in his eyes was still somewhat reserved in her opinion, but he was more obvious about listening to her. Not as aloof or disinterested as yesterday, or first thing in the morning, for that manner.

  Good signs, all of them.

  David was a good dog trainer. She had no doubts after having seen him greet the other dogs at the kennel. Every one of the dogs in the care of Hope’s Crossing Kennels jumped to their feet at his approach, eager for a word from him or the chance to work. His body language was always relaxed, confident. He moved with the kind of easy readiness—potential for explosive action in every muscle—that commanded respect. The dogs were sensitive to it, acknowledged him as a dominant in the territory. With him, there was no question as to who was in charge.

  “But you need more than clear leadership,” she murmured to Atlas. He blinked and blew a huff of air out of his nose.

  She held out her hand in a loose fist, the back of her hand toward him. He considered for a long minute before lifting his head and extending his nose. One sniff. Then he returned to resting on his paws again, looking away from her. Not interested in more than acknowledging he
r.

  “It’s good to have this time to get to know you.” She always talked to dogs when they were relaxing. If she’d been working with him instead of enjoying quiet time—and there was a difference—she’d give him clear and concise commands instead of conversational commentary. Even eager-to-please dogs still needed to understand what it was a human wanted them to do and they didn’t precisely speak human. They learned to recognize short commands combined with body language. Any human could speak a command, in any language, and it’d still take a dog a minute to really understand what the human wanted unless the human copied a known trainer exactly in words, tone, and gestures. Then the dog probably made an educated guess.

  “You’re smart enough to know what we all want from you,” she murmured. “But obedience and working aren’t what you want to do right now, are they? You’ve lost your heart.”

  She didn’t blame him. Being heartbroken was something she could understand.

  “I’ve never had my heart broken by a boyfriend, mind you.” She leaned her head back against the couch’s arm rest. Confiding in dogs was one of the most secure ways of getting something off her chest. And opening herself up to them gained their trust in return, every time. “I think human hearts break, too, when the people we live for disappoint us. Like our parents. I have trust issues.”

  Of course, if David was to walk in, he’d probably think he was interrupting a therapy session. Only she was the one on the couch talking about her emotional baggage while Atlas was the shrink listening.

  There was a method to what she was doing, though. Atlas was getting used to the cadence and tone of her voice. Her scent surrounded him in this room. And every movement she made was being cataloged in a library in his mind associated to her. The introduction process was a long one, and the more time the dog had to interact with her, the more comfortable he’d be because he’d know what she was likely to do.

  Her phone rang, the tone bringing her bolt upright in her seat. Atlas was on his feet beside her, his entire body tense and his ears forward at alert. A low growl rumbled from his chest.

  “Sorry, Atlas. Easy.” She took a deep breath, calming herself so the dog would take her cue and go back to resting.

  Damn it. As much as she hated the distinctive ringtone—or rather, the caller it was assigned to—she figured she better answer it before the caller decided to blow up her phone again.

  “Hello, Captain Jones.” Neutral. She was going for a nice, civil exchange.

  A pause. “I have repeatedly instructed you to call me ‘Father.’” The voice on the other end was surly.

  Make no mistake, his feelings weren’t hurt. In her twenty-eight years of experience, he’d gone around in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction with the world. Well, at least twenty-five. Theoretically, the first few years of her life hadn’t been formative in terms of actual memories. Her mother had married him when she’d been just a toddler.

  Instead of arguing the point, she decided to go for pleasantries. “I hope you’ve been well. Is there a reason you’re calling?”

  “Don’t try to sidetrack me, miss. Each time you insist on your lack of respect for familial ties, it becomes more of a habit. One of these days you’re going to do it in front of admiralty and the reflection on me will be absolutely inappropriate. I will not have it.” His words came low and fast, as they always did whether they were speaking face to face or over the phone. Given the choice, she preferred the distance. Then she could pretend the admonishments didn’t give her cold chills anymore. The impact of his intense, quiet speeches was worse for her than all the screaming in the world.

  “You’re one promotion away from Rear Admiral.” She commended herself for a cool, even delivery there. “Surely your service record outweighs the impact of a few words from me.”

  Besides, he hadn’t ever let her call him “Daddy” or “Dad,” and not “Papa,” ever. Not what had come naturally to her as a child. It’d always been “Father” for as long as she could remember. Proper. Formal. And pronounced properly as soon as humanly possible.

  “It’s amazing you ever graduated from college.” His words dripped with disgust. Oh, what a surprise. “Even basic classes and interaction with professors should have demonstrated that perception is a distinct advantage in every situation. Never underestimate it.”

  What will people think? echoed through her childhood. “Of course. I do remember those lessons from you.”

  “Then apply what you learned.” A command, not a request. With him it was never a request.

  She waited. He’d called her and she’d asked why. He could either continue to rant or actually get to the reason for this contact in the first place.

  “I was informed you experienced an attack.” Was that a note of discomfort? Surely not.

  “There was an incident at my hotel last night. I gave a detailed report to the police.” She waited to see where this was going.

  There was an intake of breath. “Did you see your attackers well enough to identify them?”

  A leering grin flashed across her mind’s eye. Her heart kicked hard in her chest and she swallowed the sudden taste of bile. Atlas was on his feet in front of her, pulling her focus with a somber stare.

  She was safe. Atlas had made sure of it.

  Regaining her composure, she stood and tried to walk off the residual nerves as she answered, “Not last night.”

  Maybe her stepfather was concerned? Hard to tell with him, but there was always room for surprise in the day.

  “No? It would have been useful if you could give a sketch artist something to work with.”

  Ah. Of course. How easy it was to find a shortcoming. “The man I saw was wearing a ski mask. The other attacker came from behind and I never saw him.”

  This was her stepfather’s chance to express concern. Two attackers. Didn’t he wonder how she’d come through in one piece?

  “As your point of escalation on your current contract, I was notified about the encounter and your physical status but not given the details of the sequence of events.” He paused. “I assume you were able to trigger an alarm of some sort to call for aid.”

  Actually, no. And if Cruz hadn’t arrived when he had, she wouldn’t have been able to. Something she was going to fix, and soon. Maybe one of those tiny, super loud air horns to carry in her purse. “Not quite, but help was close by and the police were called as soon as possible.”

  She was reluctant to mention Cruz saving her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful. She was. But the idea of admitting to her stepfather that she’d needed rescuing stuck in her throat. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, should’ve been able to guard herself better. The nature of her job had her traveling alone most of the time and right now the idea of staying in a hotel gave her more than a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly cold, she shuddered.

  “You’ve changed to a hotel with better security?” It was more of a statement than a question. Another assumption.

  He made those a lot. And basically considered you an imbecile if you hadn’t done what he considered the most logical, best, or expedient thing to do.

  This time, she was fairly certain he would be surprised but not disappointed. “Not a hotel. I’ve moved into guest accommodations directly on Hope’s Crossing Kennels property.”

  Silence. Then, “Is staying on the premises a common practice when you are consulting?”

  Oh no, judgment could stop right there. “With private clients, of course not. However, this is a professional kennel facility and it makes absolute sense to be as near Atlas as possible while I work with him. It maximizes my access to him and the increased exposure could potentially speed his recovery.”

  There, refute that line of reasoning.

  “Indeed.” Another pause. “And security is sufficient on the premises?”

  Was he actually concerned for her safety? She checked her incredulity. She was getting petty and letting it go was still a work in progress. Recent years working on
her own had helped her maturity in dealing with him but this contract and the sudden uptick in conversations dragged up too many old habits. It was time to think more constructively. “Security here is better than most hotels. Gated entrance, video surveillance, and dogs with various levels of advanced training.” She paused. It seemed thorough to her so she considered what else might be useful information to provide before he needed to prompt her again. “One of them has been caught.”

  “How?” His voice turned sharp.

  Puzzled, she answered, “He showed up here at the kennels while I was working with Atlas this morning. Atlas apprehended him.”

  And she was incredibly proud of Atlas. She paused in her slow pacing around the room and turned to give the dog a soft smile. He was still in front of the couch, sitting now.

  “Ah.” Her stepfather cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware. It’s not likely you were targeted at random at the hotel, then. Do the police know why this man seems to have targeted you specifically?”

  “That’s a good point.” It galled her to acknowledge it because any time he had one it was an assumption he was right about all things, in perpetuity. “The police took him into custody. I haven’t heard anything more.”

  Silence.

  “I guess you were only notified about last night’s incident so far?” She was walking out on thin ice and at any minute it was going to crack under her feet.

  She didn’t want to think about the attack last night or the man showing up this morning. But there was a reason he’d come after her and there was another man still out there. It might be more trouble for Hope’s Crossing Kennels and she didn’t want to repay their generosity in letting her stay with the danger. Uneasy, she started to pace again. Maybe she should discuss this with David.

  “I’m sure I’ll be notified shortly. I’ll also take steps to ensure there isn’t a delay in this kind of update in the future.” So matter of fact.

  If he only said it was because he cared, it’d make all the difference. Instead, he made it sound like he was just making sure he could call in expedient damage control in case she managed to embarrass him. She used to think he was planning a political career the way he worried so much about appearances. But the two of them had never been on the same page, so neither understood the other’s aspirations.