was in jeopardy. Jaws waited, tense and ready for a fight.
Griffin and Troy exchanged a smile, hearing the commotion from the bleachers. The students always loved this part the best.
Troy pretended to throw a punch and, instead of sitting and waiting for the order, Jaws leapt up, grabbing the arm of the padded suit.
He’d attacked without a command. Again.
Damn it.
Griffin had put in extra hours lately training Jaws. The K-9 unit didn’t keep liabilities around for long.
But Griffin didn’t give up on his partners, either.
“Off!” Griffin ordered, using his most domineering voice. Jaws hesitated and then relaxed, releasing his grip on Troy’s suit and returning to Griffin’s side. The students wouldn’t know the difference. They had no idea that Jaws had done something wrong.
Charlie Myer did, though. So did the other guys on the K-9 unit.
Damn. It.
He and Troy finished up the skit and then Griffin endured fifteen minutes of questions from the kids. They wanted to know everything under the sun, including how to adopt one of the dogs.
“These are military property.” Griffin pointed out the serial number tattooed into one of the dog’s ears. It wasn’t Jaws, though, because Jaws had been transported back to his kennel for safety reasons. He couldn’t be trusted right now, and that felt like a kick to Griffin’s nuts. “When we retire the dogs, they usually go to one of the handlers. If they don’t, then we look for a good home in the civilian world. Like everything else, there’s a lot of paperwork involved to adopt one of these guys. They’re soldiers. They’ve been through a lot and deserve the best retirement available.”
When the Q&A was over, Griffin headed in the direction of the kennels, knowing that Charlie Myer would be waiting to talk to him. Jaws had attacked early, but he’d done it because he’d thought Griffin was in danger. Couldn’t fault a dog for that. Not a regular dog at least.
Charlie was standing in his office doorway, arms crossed, a grim expression on his face.
“I know,” Griffin said, walking toward him.
“I thought you said Jaws was improving.”
“He is,” Griffin answered back. “Some dogs just need more work than others.”
“We could go ahead and retire him.”
Griffin shook his head. He felt responsible for Jaws. They were a team. And going through the process of retiring Jaws out meant going through the process to determine if Jaws was safe to be someone’s pet. That thought turned Griffin’s stomach into a lead anchor because if Jaws was deemed unsafe, there would be no happy ending for him.
“No, sir. Give us one more chance.”
After meeting with Charlie, Griffin trudged through the rest of the day, using the last forty-five minutes for more training with Jaws. Then he grabbed his things to go home. His cellphone was blinking with a message as he headed to his Ford Explorer in the parking lot.
“Hey, it’s me,” a female voice said on his voicemail.
He knew exactly who the female was by the way his traitorous heart kicked into gear.
“Listen, when you get this message, can you call me back. I want to tell you something.”
Val left her phone number and the message ended.
Griffin smiled for the first time that day. He’d do better than return her call, he decided. She only lived ten minutes away and he’d been trying to dream up an excuse to go see her anyway. Now he had one.
Chapter 8
The doorbell rang. Val looked down at the gym shorts and tight white tank top she was wearing. She’d been considering working out. Exercise was supposed to be good for creativity and her friend Julie was always telling her how great she’d feel afterward. Yoga was Julie’s exercise of choice. Val didn’t think yoga was for her, but she’d always liked long walks and an occasional jog. Now that she was dog sitting, those were practical things she could do. Val frowned at her attire. If her father was the person at the door, he’d disapprove
Griffin and Troy exchanged a smile, hearing the commotion from the bleachers. The students always loved this part the best.
Troy pretended to throw a punch and, instead of sitting and waiting for the order, Jaws leapt up, grabbing the arm of the padded suit.
He’d attacked without a command. Again.
Damn it.
Griffin had put in extra hours lately training Jaws. The K-9 unit didn’t keep liabilities around for long.
But Griffin didn’t give up on his partners, either.
“Off!” Griffin ordered, using his most domineering voice. Jaws hesitated and then relaxed, releasing his grip on Troy’s suit and returning to Griffin’s side. The students wouldn’t know the difference. They had no idea that Jaws had done something wrong.
Charlie Myer did, though. So did the other guys on the K-9 unit.
Damn. It.
He and Troy finished up the skit and then Griffin endured fifteen minutes of questions from the kids. They wanted to know everything under the sun, including how to adopt one of the dogs.
“These are military property.” Griffin pointed out the serial number tattooed into one of the dog’s ears. It wasn’t Jaws, though, because Jaws had been transported back to his kennel for safety reasons. He couldn’t be trusted right now, and that felt like a kick to Griffin’s nuts. “When we retire the dogs, they usually go to one of the handlers. If they don’t, then we look for a good home in the civilian world. Like everything else, there’s a lot of paperwork involved to adopt one of these guys. They’re soldiers. They’ve been through a lot and deserve the best retirement available.”
When the Q&A was over, Griffin headed in the direction of the kennels, knowing that Charlie Myer would be waiting to talk to him. Jaws had attacked early, but he’d done it because he’d thought Griffin was in danger. Couldn’t fault a dog for that. Not a regular dog at least.
Charlie was standing in his office doorway, arms crossed, a grim expression on his face.
“I know,” Griffin said, walking toward him.
“I thought you said Jaws was improving.”
“He is,” Griffin answered back. “Some dogs just need more work than others.”
“We could go ahead and retire him.”
Griffin shook his head. He felt responsible for Jaws. They were a team. And going through the process of retiring Jaws out meant going through the process to determine if Jaws was safe to be someone’s pet. That thought turned Griffin’s stomach into a lead anchor because if Jaws was deemed unsafe, there would be no happy ending for him.
“No, sir. Give us one more chance.”
After meeting with Charlie, Griffin trudged through the rest of the day, using the last forty-five minutes for more training with Jaws. Then he grabbed his things to go home. His cellphone was blinking with a message as he headed to his Ford Explorer in the parking lot.
“Hey, it’s me,” a female voice said on his voicemail.
He knew exactly who the female was by the way his traitorous heart kicked into gear.
“Listen, when you get this message, can you call me back. I want to tell you something.”
Val left her phone number and the message ended.
Griffin smiled for the first time that day. He’d do better than return her call, he decided. She only lived ten minutes away and he’d been trying to dream up an excuse to go see her anyway. Now he had one.
Chapter 8
The doorbell rang. Val looked down at the gym shorts and tight white tank top she was wearing. She’d been considering working out. Exercise was supposed to be good for creativity and her friend Julie was always telling her how great she’d feel afterward. Yoga was Julie’s exercise of choice. Val didn’t think yoga was for her, but she’d always liked long walks and an occasional jog. Now that she was dog sitting, those were practical things she could do. Val frowned at her attire. If her father was the person at the door, he’d disapprove
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