Trinity: Military War Dog by Ronie Kendig Page A

troops.
    That used to be me
.
    And what was he now? Comedic relief. Entertainment. The thought burned and scraped as he swallowed the painful dose of truth. He gulped adrenaline and disappointment by the liters, very aware of the emptiness in his chest. First, Jia … now …
    If only they hadn’t gotten bad intel on his last mission. He’d love to wrap his fingers around the neck of the person who had cost him his career.
    “Hey, Prince Charming, you coming, or do I inherit your beautiful dog now?”
    Heath dropped his gaze, regrouped, and dumped the depression that had swooped in once again. He turned to Hogan. “I’d like to see you try.” Because Heath knew that even if he died, Trinity would never leave him. Her training was now as inbred as her instincts.
    Jibril and Hogan headed into the second MRAP, while Heath and Aspen climbed the three steps into the first one. As they settled, the driver became immersed in radio chatter.
    “Yes, sir. We’ll wait, sir.” Over his shoulder, he hollered to Heath and Aspen, “We’ve been ordered to hold.”
    Heath slumped into a seat, Trinity on the seat next to him, and looked at Aspen, who shrugged.
    Ten minutes later, the driver cursed and muttered something to the soldier in the seat next to him. Heath rose and peered out the front heavily fortified window. Two generals and at least a dozen special-ops guys jogged toward them.
    Noise drew Heath’s attention to the rear, where the door sat open so he could see another MRAP pulling up behind. Heath leaned in and patted the driver. “What’s happening?”
    “Hanged if I know. They told me to wait, so I wait.”
    Heath glanced at the guy. He looked young. Too young. “How long you been here?”
    “Yesterday.”
    Something strange twisted in Heath’s gut. “You ever been off this base?”
    “No, sir, but I’m ready.”
    Heath choked back his groan as he bent in half, swung around, and threaded his way around Aspen and Trinity to the rear door. “I’ll be right back.”
    “Heath—”
    A man appeared in the doorway. “Make a hole!”
    Heath eased back into his seat. With only four seats in the vehicle, he wasn’t sure where this guy was going, but the authority with which he spoke pushed Heath back down. In his seat, he gripped Trinity’s collar and lured her to a spot between his legs.
    The soldier dropped into the seat next to Aspen. Another flipped down the spare jump seat. As he did, Heath noted the trident on the guy’s arm. A SEAL. Interesting. That swung Heath’s attention back to the guy next to Aspen.
    His gaze hit the rank on the man’s vest, then ricocheted to the man’s face—eyes burning holes into his own. It was the same general who chewed out Jia last night.
    He took in the lettering on his chest. B URNETT.
    The general paused as he stared down Heath. “Of all the …” He muttered something about being cursed, then banged on the hull. “Get it moving, Specialist!”
    The back door clanged shut and they lurched into motion.
    Though the four-star might want to play the silent game, Heath didn’t. “Is this a personal escort to our next site?”
    Blue eyes met Heath’s. “If you want it to be.”
    Placating him. Heath would have to dig a little harder without ticking him off. “You and I both know those stars on your chest are more of a homing beacon for trouble than a shield.”
    Gaping, Aspen sucked in a breath but said nothing. Her own military training probably dumbed her into submission.
    But like Trinity, his training was as much instinct now as ever. He didn’t play dumb. He got info and made a plan. His experience told him something big was happening if two generals were added last-minute to an entertainment convoy.
    Heath nudged Aspen’s boots. “This should make an interesting addition to my talk with the troops tonight, don’t you think, Aspen?”
    “Don’t drag me down this hole.” Her pale cheeks went pink.
    “Oh, c’mon. You know the troops would get a kick out