LITMIR.BIZ

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smirked. “The last thing I want is to be the bearer of bad news to my sister.” He gave a mock shudder.

      “Uncle, this is Master Sergeant Westley James,” Felicity said. “Westley, my uncle, Staff Sergeant Patrick Dooley.”

      “You’re from the MWD training center, right?” Patrick asked. “I’ve seen you working the dogs.”

      “That’s right.” From Patrick’s tone, Westley gathered the man wasn’t a fan of the canines.

      Patrick focused on Felicity. “It’s not safe for you to go home. You need to come stay with me. We’re family after all.”

      The stiffness in Felicity’s shoulders told Westley she wasn’t keen on the idea. “She’ll have all the protection she needs,” Westley assured the man. “We’re heading to the training center now to pick up a dog for her.”

      Felicity shot Westley a look that he couldn’t decipher. He guessed she was thinking that it was against regulations for an MWD to be housed anywhere but in the kennels. He would have to explain when her uncle wasn’t present.

      Patrick’s upper lip curled slightly. “Unacceptable. Your mother would never forgive me if I let something happen to you when I could keep you safe.”

      “I appreciate the offer, Uncle Patrick,” she said. “But Westley will provide me the protection I need.”

      “I suppose you’ll be safe at the training center as well.” Patrick didn’t sound mollified.

      “Actually, I’m taking over the role of base photographer starting tomorrow,” Felicity told him.

      The man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What? Whose crazy idea was that? You’ll be out in the open. Exposed. Unacceptable!”

      Though Westley agreed with the man’s assertions, he remained silent. He would let Felicity fill in her uncle on Westley’s role.

      “The base commander’s order,” she said. “And Master Sergeant James will be with me.”

      Westley met Patrick’s narrowed gaze. “You’d better keep her safe.”

      “I plan to,” he replied.

      Felicity let out a small huff of air. “We need to get back to the training center so I can collect my things.”

      Patrick walked outside with them. The temperature had risen on this April afternoon, warming the air to a nice muggy level that immediately dampened Westley’s skin. Walking to the other side of base wasn’t an appealing thought. “Patrick, would you give us a ride back to the training center?”

      “Of course,” he said and led them to a jeep parked across the road.

      The vehicle smelled faintly of a scent Westley couldn’t identify. He rolled down the window for fresh air. The ride to the center took all of four minutes.

      Felicity gave her uncle a quick hug before he drove away, leaving them standing outside of the center.

      “I didn’t realize you had more family on base,” Westley said as they walked toward the entrance.

      “We aren’t super close,” she confessed. “Uncle Patrick and my dad used to be friends when they were young. That’s how my parents met, but as Dad moved up through the ranks and into the OSI, he and Patrick grew apart.” She let out a bitter-sounding laugh. “My parents grew apart, as well.”

      “Divorced?”

      “Yes.” She stopped to glance his way and shielded her eyes from the sun. “What about your parents?”

      Acid churned in his gut. He had to ask, had to know. “What did Agent Steffen tell you?”

      “Why do you assume he told me anything about you?”

      “Because something he said upset you,” Westley replied. “Something that you don’t trust me enough to talk about, so I gathered that meant he warned you off of me.”

      Speculation entered her blue-green gaze. “No. What we talked about had nothing to do with you.”

      Relief swept through him. And he felt idiotic for his paranoia. “Good.” He started walking again, intending to put the whole subject behind them.

      She hurried to keep up the pace and put a hand on his arm before he could open the door to the training center. “But now I’m curious. You never talk about yourself. Why would I need to be warned off of you?”

      Westley’s mouth turned to cotton. Of course. The woman was curious. Felicity liked to talk and to hear others’ stories. He’d seen and heard her on numerous occasions with the handlers that came to the training center and with the other trainers. She had a way about her that people found engaging and comfortable.

      Right now, he felt anything but comfortable. He wasn’t going to spill his guts about his past if he didn’t have to. The things his parents had done didn’t have anything to do with his present life. Nor with his ability to protect Felicity. “Sorry. Not going there.”

      “I know you’re my superior, and I’m to follow orders,” she replied, “but I figure since we’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, we may as well get to know each other a bit better.”

      He faced her. “There’s nothing to know.”

      “Sure there is. Where did you grow up?”

      The determination in her expression didn’t bode well. The tenacity that would make her a great dog trainer one day also meant he wasn’t getting out of this conversation easily. The only thing to do was give her the basics that anyone could read in his official personnel file. “I grew up in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My father passed on years ago.” In prison, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “And my mother is...” He didn’t know where Lori Jean James was. Last he’d heard from her, she’d been in Nevada. “We aren’t close.”

      “I’m sorry,” Felicity said.

      Her compassion annoyed him. He didn’t want her pity. “Look. None of that matters. I have one focus right now. That is protecting you.” He yanked open the door. “The first thing we need to do is find Glory. She’ll be the best dog for you.”

      He didn’t need to read Felicity’s mind to know she wasn’t pleased with him. It was written in the tiny V between her eyebrows and the irritation in her eyes.

      Inside the center, Felicity went to gather her things from the locker room, while Westley headed for the dog kennels at the back of the building. He passed one of the long-time trainers, Rusty Morton. Westley liked the guy well enough.

      Rusty paused to salute. “Master Sergeant.”

      Westley returned the customary salute. “At ease. How is it going?”

      Rusty relaxed. “I’m headed out to see if I can find more of the dogs. Someone reported seeing some in the woods at the far edge of base.”

      That was concerning. Six hundred acres of rough terrain and steep canyons could pose a danger to the canines. He hoped nothing bad befell the dogs. “I’ll be praying you find them.” And praying the canines were unharmed. “I’ll head out soon to search as well.”

      “Yes, sir.” Rusty hurried away.

      Why Westley clung to the faith of his childhood, he didn’t know. Habit maybe. Or deep inside, maybe he still wanted to believe God answered prayers. So he prayed that Rusty and the other trainers out searching for the dogs had success.

      Westley entered the large open space where numerous kennels lined the walls. Dogs barked in greeting. He was pleased to see so many of the dogs had been returned unharmed.

      “We have about sixty dogs still missing,” Caleb Streeter told him. The tall, muscular officer was refilling water bowls. Because Caleb and Westley were the same rank, they dispensed with the protocol of saluting.

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