Wicked Healing
J.M. Madden
Wicked Healing Copyright © 2019 by J.M. Madden
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by TheCoverCollection.com
Created with Vellum
This is for all the millions of dog people out there!
And for all of the wounded K9s and handlers we don’t hear about. Thank you for your service!
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for all of the readers who loved Hearing Home, then messaged me to tell me how much they were waiting for Wicked’s story! I hope he lives up to your expectations!
Sandie, as always, you’re fantastic. Thanks for the input and typo control!
Stephanie Gharst, thank you so much for the veterinary double-checking! Still can’t believe how quick you read it! Lol
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by J.M. Madden
Prologue
Carolina Jones looked at the note on her desk and shook her head. What the ever-loving hell? She had people dropping like flies! She was happy for her contractor, of course, but did she really have to leave for her honeymoon during one of the busiest times the business had ever experienced?
Her phone buzzed with a text message from BB. She swiped it open and gasped. She recognized BB’s long-fingered, manicured hand, but the giant rock on her ring finger was new. Immediately she called her sister.
“Are you serious?” she demanded.
BB giggled, sounding deliriously happy. “Yeah, I guess so. I just got engaged.”
Carolina floundered. “What? I don’t understand.”
Then she thought of the last assignment she’d asked BB to take. “The welcome home guy? The SEAL?”
“Yes,” BB giggled again, sounding… amazing. Like she was relaxed and happy and had had sex. Carolina was at a loss.
“It’s only been, what? Three weeks since you met him?”
“Something like that,” her sister said, voice nonchalant. “I just wanted to let you know not to expect me to be available for anything.”
“Well, I guess not,” Carolina said, laughing. “When do we get to meet the man?”
“Um, we’ll see. Gotta run, Carolina! Love you!”
“Love you too, B.”
But she was already gone. Carolina stared at her phone incredulously, then swiped through to Weather Bug, looking to see if there was some kind of pheromone alert she hadn’t heard about. Nope, nothing. People were falling in love all around her and it was aggravating.
How the hell was she going to cover all these jobs?
Chapter 1
Erin Knox simply didn’t understand. Dogs loved her. Like, seriously, loved her. They would cross the street to get a scratch from her and jump fences just to be near her. Her house was the dog hangout of the neighborhood. It wasn’t exactly a talent, but definitely an affinity.
Her affinity was failing her now.
When Carolina had called her to ask her to foster the dog, she hadn’t even hesitated to say yes. Now, though…
She looked at the too-lean Malinois laying in the cage and wondered if he would actually follow through with the nasty growling he was doing. His body was tense and his black eyes solid direct. The vet’s office had muzzled the dog, but she was still cautious. She’d seen a dog break out of a muzzle once, and it hadn’t been pretty.
Wicked, a five-year old wounded Belgian Malinois Military War Dog, recently flown in from Germany, was her new foster dog. And she had a feeling he was going to live up to his name.
Taking a breath, she opened the cage door. The dog didn’t lunge for her, which she counted as a blessing. The growl intensified, though.
The uniformed Army veterinarian had assured her that he was mobile, but the dog was still lying on his side. “Come on, Wicked. Let’s get you out of here.”
He seemed to understand the word ‘out’. Laboriously, he pushed to his feet, then stood glaring at her, as if awaiting her next move. Taking her metaphorical balls in hand, Erin reached in and placed the slip lead over his head, very slowly, very carefully. The dog continued to growl, but he didn’t make any movement, just held completely still. Well, he wavered a little, but he had reason to.
Erin pulled back, out of the cage and gave the male room to move. The dog was big for a Mal, and he wouldn’t be the type to like being crowded, so she duck-walked backwards a few steps. The animal followed her out, steps wobbling as he slipped out of the cage. His head was low and he looked around, as if to see who was observing his humiliation.
Because that was how it struck Erin that he was feeling. It was like he’d been this warrior badass, and now, because he only had three legs, he’d lost his sense of being a badass.
Unfortunately, she’d seen this kind of demoralization before, and it didn’t always end well. For the most part, dogs and cats could survive easily without a leg, but they had to have the determination to do it.
She glanced up at the vet standing a few yards away. “What happened to his handler?”
The woman frowned. “All we heard was that the dog saved his life, but he was injured just as badly as Sir Wicked here. He’s still in the hospital in Bamburg, Germany, as far as we know.”
Erin frowned. When Carolina had called her she’d known that she would help out— there’d been no question— but she didn’t realize how dire the situation was. The dog was alone in the world. There had probably been some catastrophic explosion or blast or something to cause the damage and burnt hair she could see along his sides, and then he’d been separated from the man he’d come to rely on for his health and companionship.
But then, the reverse was probably true as well. Erin wondered about the soldier who was the other half of this pair.
There was a large swath of bandages around his abdomen and hips. The end of the leg that had been amputated hung in the air. It was wrapped in bright pink medical wrap. Erin was actually surprised at how much they’d left behind. It looked like he’d lost the lower part of his foot only. “Will he be eligible for a prosthetic later?”
The vet nodded, her eyes kind. “That’s why we left it that way. After a while he’ll figure out he can’t use that foot and he’ll keep it up. Bandages need changed every other day or when they get wet.”
Though she knew it was dangerous, Erin wanted to reach out to give the dog some kind of encouragement, but he was still giving her the evil eye, as if looking for a reason to chew her up and spit her out. She really and truly didn’t blame him, but she hoped he decided to pass on her tender skin. Pushing to her feet, she did one of the hardest things she’d done in a long time. She turned her back to the animal. But, at the same time, she ordered, ‘heel’.
Barely daring to breathe, she waited. There, out of the corner of her eye, she could see the dog come to her side. “Forward.”
They walked forward a few feet and she took the discharge papers and a bottle of medication from the uniformed veterinarian. Respect shone in the woman’s expression, but Erin didn’t let it detour her path. With a final nod, she headed to her vehicle in the visitor’s lot. She told Wick
ed to sit, then she opened the back hatch of her truck and drew out the textured ramp she used for her geriatric patients. Wicked gave her another beleaguered look, but very carefully hobbled up the ramp. He went into the large dog cage she had in the back without issue and sat and watched as she latched the door.
Erin’s heart ached for the dog. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and love on him, but she knew that would be the quickest way to alienate him. They were building the tiniest sliver of trust right now, and she could wait for him to decide to come to her.
The front gate guard gave her an odd look as they exited Joint Base San Antonio-Lackland, looking at the release papers several times, then into the back of her car, before finally waving her through. She wasn’t sure what had made him pause, but something. She’d have to look at the paperwork later. It was a long drive to Phoenix, though. They needed to get moving.
First, though…
She drove for about an hour to a dog park that she’d found on the way down. It was in a pretty little town called Vacasa. It was shaded and cool, and when she’d checked it out yesterday there had been no one there. Same today, she noted, looking around carefully. Parking the SUV she opened the passenger door behind her seat and retrieved the long lunge line she’d stowed there.
Erin had fostered more than one dog after they’d been through military quarantine or a long illness, and she knew that actually getting outside into grass and open air sometimes had an amazing effect on the animal. Moving to the back hatch she lifted the door, then settled the ramp to the edge. Wicked watched her for a long moment. Erin took it as a good sign that he no longer growled at her.
Then he growled at her.
“Listen, buddy,” she told him sternly. “I’m trying to do a nice thing for you. Cool your jets.”
The dog quieted. Unlatching the cage door, she hooked the horse line to the heavy collar he wore, then stood back to give him room to get out of the cage.
Wicked gave her a direct stare. She’d known this dog would be challenging.
Hobbling down the ramp, he looked up at her. Erin wished she could take the muzzle off of him, but she just didn’t trust him yet. He didn’t trust her either.
“Heel,” she said, walking toward the gate into the dog park. He followed her through without question, so she took that as a good sign. He sat while he waited for her to latch the gate behind them, then looked around the area. Erin assumed he needed to go potty, so, spooling out the length of the horse lunge line, she murmured to him, “Go potty.”
Wicked sat there for a long time, even after she’d parked herself on the bench thirty feet away. Pulling out her phone, she pretended to ignore him.
The dog lowered his head to sniff the ground first. There had probably been a lot of traffic through here over the past week, so it took him a minute to get his fill. Then he stretched a bit, until he seemed to hit a painful spot and he stopped. Erin frowned. If he was in pain then that would make him bitchy too. Maybe she needed to check his discharge papers and see if he needed another dose of medication.
Wicked pushed to his three feet and bounced over to a conveniently placed fire hydrant. Surely every male dog that came in here blasted that sucker. Wicked sniffed for a moment, then lifted his amputated leg slightly and let loose. Oh, jeez. The poor guy had really needed to pee. She felt guilty for waiting so long now. Once he got done he wandered around a little more. There was a thick patch of grass he headed toward, not burnt by the spring sun. It was still green and soft. With a final glance around, Wicked lowered himself to the grass and rolled. Tears came to her eyes because it was such a dog thing to do, and he’d been in cages and transports for a week, at least. They had grass at Lackland-San Antonio, but with his aggressive behavior she doubted he’d been given any quality time.
Then he stood up and gave a hearty shake. When he was done, he lowered his head and she turned to look at him. She caught her breath just as he scraped the muzzle off his head.
Erin didn’t panic. She just sat and waited, cursing at herself for not checking the fastenings. Wicked didn’t seem to be interested in doing anything though. He wasn’t suddenly going to go on the attack. Ignoring the muzzle he nestled down in the grass, and with a final glance around even put his head down.
Erin wasn’t fooled, though. He’d put his head down, but his big, dark ears continued to flick back and forth. Then he went still and just seemed to be absorbing the heat of the sun.
Erin sat there on that bench a lot longer than she expected to just to give the male the relaxation he seemed to need. After about forty minutes, a car pulled into the lot and parked, and she knew their time was about over. There was nothing in the paperwork about aggressiveness with other dogs but he was a Navy SEAL K9, so she’d have to watch. Two golden labs jumped out of the Jeep, pulling at their leads. They’d been here before because they dragged the owner around to the gate. They seemed eager to get inside. Wicked had raised his head. Even from twenty-five feet away she could see the breath he sighed out as he clambered to his feet. Erin watched him carefully. If the other owner kept control of the labs they should be okay.
The labs, happy critters that they were, saw Wicked and began to head for him, because three playing was always better than two. Wicked wanted no part of them. The scruff of dark hair along his neck bristled, and he seemed to brace himself. Even if he was a dog-friendly dog, he wasn’t in good health right now. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for Lab antics.
The owner of the dogs was being towed along, blithely unaware that anything was amiss.
Erin stood up from the bench and began looping the excess lunge line in her hands as she headed toward Wicked. The labs were within thirty feet and the owner still wasn’t trying to curb their direction.
“Control your dogs!” Erin snapped.
“Oh, they’re friendly,” the girl said, laughing.
“He’s not!” she said, pointing at Wicked.
The girl glanced at the former Military War Dog and suddenly realized that he was not as happy to see her dogs as they were to see him. She reeled back on their lines and started dragging them in a different direction.
Erin stopped at Wicked’s side, hopefully giving him pack support. He quit growling and looked at her.
“Time to go?” she asked him.
Glancing at the Labs one more time, Wicked started heading to the gate. Erin leaned over and picked up the muzzle. It was one of the heavy-duty ones and she had no idea how he’d been able to get it off. It should have been attached to the collar.
* * *
They stopped four more times on the way to Phoenix. One stop was for about six hours as she slept in the front seat of her car. Each time she got him out of the back he growled at her, but she didn’t put the muzzle back on him. If he wanted to express to her how much he didn’t like what was going on, she was okay with that. And she thought he was a little fearful in addition to being in pain. She dosed him four times with liquid pain meds in his water and he seemed to sleep easier between stops.
When they made it to her house, there was a cacophony of noise as she parked in front of her garage and she had to smile. She’d only been gone two and a half days but to her crew it probably seemed like longer.
Her mother met her on the front porch, drying her hands on a dish towel. Erin jogged up the steps and hugged her. “They sound almost frantic. Are they starving?”
Linda Knox shook her head in exasperation. “You know they’re not. They’ve had hours of cuddling and attention and treats. I can hardly move off the couch.”
Erin grinned. “I don’t think they even notice I’m gone when you’re here.”
“That’s completely untrue. Sophie especially misses you.”
Erin sighed. The tiny little brown and white terrier mix was the smallest of her group, and the most timid, as well as the most recent addition. The poor thing would hide behind the couch all day if Erin let her, but she had to get used to living a normal life. Her former owner, an elderly w
oman, had passed on, and someone had suggested that Erin needed another dog to foster. It wasn’t like she had four already, or anything. Five was a nice round number. And six even more, she thought as she moved toward the back door of her SUV. That wasn’t even counting her boarders. Why was she such a sucker to help out?
“Can you corral them into the back yard?”
Her mother nodded and went inside to shoo them all out into the fenced back yard. It would take a few minutes.
Wicked gave her a wary look as she opened the cage door and attached the lunge line. He even growled a little, but it wasn’t as full as the last time she’d gotten him out. She would let him scope out the rocky front yard first, then she could put him in the side yard enclosure. It was almost thirty feet long and had a wire roof, a requirement for military dog fostering. It had taken her days to build, but she was happy with what she’d done. Wicked could smell all of the dogs here first, then she could bring them out one by one to meet him through the fence of his enclosure. If all went well she could try introducing them again face to face another day. After he’d chilled and recovered for a while.
Wicked sniffed around before lifting his leg on a popular bush. Wavering a little on his feet, Erin had to admire his tenacity as he went from pee-spot to pee-spot, marking his own circuit. Wicked was an intact male, while the rest of her group were all fixed. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too aggressive in his marking, she thought, sighing.
When he seemed to be done, she tugged on the lead, pulling him across the concrete driveway toward a gate in the side fence. Years ago, when she’d moved onto the five-acre property, she’d known that she was going to be an animal handler. It had been right after her dad died from cancer, and it was the first thing she’d allowed herself to dream about. It was what she’d always wanted to do, and animals had always reacted positively to her. Maybe they knew, instinctively that she would never hurt them, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was it was magical. It seemed like within minutes of owning the property she was being asked to take in foster animals. So, she did, escaping the loss of losing her father by helping other animals in pain. Over the years she’d had several hundred animals wander through her life; dogs, cats, goats, a few rabbits, and a few horses, as well as several forms of native wildlife. She couldn’t even count the litters of puppies she’d raised. Being outside of Phoenix, she was right in the middle of several air bases. Luke Air Force Base was just a few miles away, and Barry M Goldwater Air Force Range wasn’t far away either. She didn’t limit her boarders to Arizona, though. If people wanted to bring her their animals and pay for their care, she would take them in. She usually had a full kennel as the soldiers and airmen were deployed.
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