Ethan (The K9 Files Book 1)

Ethan Nebberly studied the desolate ground ahead of him. His gaze shifted slowly, looking for any sign of movement. He’d caught sight of a dog from the corner of his eye as he drove past. He’d turned around and gone back. He didn’t have any business taking this detour, but, seeing the injured shepherd take off, away from him, his only thought had been to help.

Ever since Badger had talked to Ethan, he’d been hard-pressed to think of anything but finding the dog in the K9:01 file. Ethan was never one to leave an animal in need and wanted to get started right away. Badger had persuaded him to slow down and to give them a bit of time to gather some intel.

During training, the dog’s name was Sentry, but, as he’d been handed off several times, he had likely been renamed several times. So Ethan continued to call him by a number in his head, to help distance himself from the dog’s fate. The last known place for the dog was Houston, which was also convenient. Levi’s Legendary Security company was in the area, close to where Ethan was now.

As soon as he realized he was heading in this direction, he’d contacted Gunner, who had been instrumental in getting Ethan into the US War Dogs Association program years ago. They’d kept in touch ever since. Gunner had never been one to leave an animal in need either and couldn’t wait for Ethan to “get his ass over” to his place, as he had put it.

There. Out of the corner of Ethan’s eye again, he sensed movement. The small shepherd lay still, blending in with the rock. The dog was weak enough that it couldn’t keep evading Ethan. He took another step forward, hearing sounds off in the distance. But he didn’t dare stop, his gaze always on the wheat-colored hide of the animal in the tall grass. Drought had taken over this area and had turned the crabgrass the same color as the dog’s hair. This particular shepherd had usual dark markings up around the head and chest area but with a very light-colored back. Ethan walked several more steps, quiet in his approach.

The whisper of movement continued to his left. He did not want other people involved. He preferred to live a life on the edge of society. People asked too many questions. They assumed that politeness was friendliness, and then they dug into Ethan’s life, well past the point he was prepared to share anything.

This dog called to him in a way he hadn’t felt since his military K9 days. He’d seen more than his fair share of injured animals, dogs hurt beyond recognition, where a bullet had been a mercy killing. But then he’d seen men in the same condition too.

Sometimes he wondered if those people would have preferred a bullet, just like those dogs he’d worked with. Ethan himself was one of the walking wounded. He understood some of what this dog was going through. Another step and the shepherd locked its gaze on him. From the dog’s size, he’d guess she was a young female. She was exhausted, angry, hurt and incredibly dangerous. A low growl erupted from the back of the dog’s throat.

Ethan stilled, sending waves of loving energy toward the animal. He didn’t know if it helped, but he’d always had a way with dogs, particularly the vicious ones. Then he’d rather spend his time with four-legged animals than the two-legged ones.

He’d spent a lifetime hunting down the two-legged ones. Hunting this four-legged one was out of compassion; Ethan couldn’t walk away and leave it alone.

Behind him, a man called out, “Hey, can I help you?”

Ethan didn’t answer. He knew that was the starting volley. More questions would follow.

He took another step toward the shepherd. The growl picked up again; this time he knew the other man could hear it too. His footsteps stopped, but Ethan didn’t let his gaze slide. He crouched slowly, and the shepherd’s muted growl descended an octave, but it didn’t stop.

He never said a word to the animal. The animal already knew words were false. She’d heard them before. No way the injury she sported was anything but man-made. Ethan crouched lower, taking another step toward the dog.

Behind Ethan came soft running footsteps, but again he didn’t dare take a chance to look. He held up a palm toward whoever approached. The footsteps stopped again. When Ethan caught the sucked-in breath of the man closing in on him, he knew he too had seen the shepherd.

The shepherd started to growl again.

“Are you sure you want to approach her?” the stranger asked softly.

Ethan gave a single head nod, keeping his hand up to stop the man from approaching. Ethan took another step, crouching even lower to appear less threatening to the injured animal.

And then again, maybe not to this poor animal, having suffered abuse at the hands of a human.

Ethan could sympathize with that mentality. It wasn’t that he was antisocial, but he was antipeople. Still, he’d agreed to see Gunner, and he was on the hunt for a missing dog. Not this one unfortunately. Ethan was after a big male with different coloring.

He took two more steps toward the shepherd; her eyes had a dull glaze in them, as if she had no more fight left in her. He was only three feet away. He dropped to his knees and just sat here, studying her injuries. Blood was on her flank; her leg had an open wound—showing tendon, muscle, possibly bone—but also her front shoulder needed to be looked at closer. She was starving, on the run and hurting. She’d made her last stand, and she figured she was done.

He reached out a hand in a nonthreatening way, lowered himself farther to the ground. Her eyes tracked him, but she never made a sound. Her eyes were golden and filmed with pain but still with enough fire to cause him serious injury if she went for him. Though he was concerned about her and her injuries, he had to convince her of that. Only silence floated on the wind behind him. The grass gently wafted to the side as a breeze rolled over them, and none of it mattered to her.

Or to him.

He took another slow, cautious shuffle forward. Her muscles bunched, the corner of her lips pulled back, showing her teeth, but no heat accompanied the sound coming from her throat. He slipped closer. And then she did something that made his heart break.

She just lay her head down and gave up.

He hated to see that because he’d been there himself. Tears burned the corners of his eyes as he watched one of the proudest, strongest, most beautiful animals in the world just roll over and say, I’m done. That was so not helping right now. He needed her to fight what was coming. It would be ugly, but, if he could coax her through it, she’d be fine on the other side. But the next hour, the next day, maybe the next several weeks, if not months, would be a painful recovery. It would be a bitch.

But, with his help, she could master her recovery.

He gently reached out a hand toward her fur.

The stranger behind him murmured, “Careful. She’s not totally done yet. There’s still fire in her eye.”

Ethan gave a clipped nod because that was a good thing. Maybe she hadn’t totally given up. He laid a hand on her shoulder, feeling her tremble underneath his hand, her body shaking with fear. But she was so weak, she could do nothing more than lie here, knowing the end was coming. He ran a quick hand down her back, feeling each and every rib. Her leg was broken, the skin open and crusty with infection. She had wounds on her belly, and he just wasn’t sure what else.

“Was she hit by a car?” asked the man, now beside him.

Ethan nodded.

“I have an anesthetic in my hand. I’d like to administer it to the shepherd, so we can get her some help.”

Slowly Ethan raised his head from the animal in front of him and took a calculated risk to turn to look at the big man at his side. He studied the bald head, the massive shoulders of a man in a muscle shirt and shorts, with a very interesting prosthetic at the end of a stump barely showing underneath the tied-up shorts. Stone. He held out a syringe.

“Hello, Stone. I’ll take it.”

Stone nodded, and the syringe slowly crossed hands. The shepherd, her body shaking, watched, the whites of her eyes showing.

With a gentle hand Ethan slowly administered the anesthetic to take the dog’s pain several levels down. He doubted it was enough to knock her out, but, if it was enough to move her, at least they could get her some help.

“A vet’s around the corner,” Stone said. “An animal rescue’s just down the hill.”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed as he studied his surroundings. He hadn’t realized he was so close to Anna and Flynn’s place. He waited for the anesthesia to take effect and for the shepherd’s eyes to slowly close. He handed the syringe back to Stone as he slowly straightened. “Kat says hi.”

Stone’s eyes widened, and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Well, I’ll be damned. Ethan. It is you. I wasn’t sure initially, but there aren’t too many humans I know who can approach a wounded animal like you just did.”

Ethan’s lips twitched at that response. “Not quite as smooth or as good as I used to be.” He motioned to Stone’s leg. “I think I’m wearing a more advanced model than you are.”

Stone blustered. “No way. How could Kat not give me the latest and the best?” he asked with a huge grin. He reached out a hand and shook Ethan’s. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been what? Three or four years since I saw you last?”

Ethan shrugged. “Maybe. It’s been half that long since I was in active service.”

“Levi said something about you coming but didn’t expect you so soon. Neither did I hear much about the reason why you’re here. Other than meeting up with Gunner.”

“I’m following up on a request from up the chain of command. Looking for a K9 dog that might or might not be okay. And, yep, Gunner is on my list of people to stop by and see.”

“Gunner is a good guy. I know he’s looking for a pair of security dogs. Sounds like you two should do well.” Stone pointed down the hill. “I was helping out at Anna’s place, building another set of dog runs, when I saw you up here.” His gaze dropped to Ethan’s legs. “Sorry about the accident that took your leg. Sometimes life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Ethan dropped his gaze to the dog at his feet. “And sometimes it’s the bitches that are life.” He turned to look at his truck parked on the side of the highway. “I don’t know how badly hurt she is, but it looks bad.”

“Louise will let us know,” Stone said.

Ethan walked around and gently scooped his hands underneath the frail dog. He motioned toward his truck. “I can hold her, if you can drive.”

Surprise lit Stone’s gaze again. He judged the distance and said, “You’ll ride in the bed or in the front?”

“In the bed.”

Stone nodded once, and the two men, not saying another word, strode over to Ethan’s big black Dodge Ram 3500 pickup. It took a little bit of scrambling to get into the bed of the truck, while holding the shepherd, but Ethan managed it.

“Nice wheels,” Stone said as he shut the tailgate and then hopped into the driver’s side and turned the key, starting the engine. With Stone driving carefully, they headed down the road.

In the distance Ethan could see other people watching the two of them. He ignored them, keeping his focus on the shepherd in his arms. He shifted her weight and caught sight of the tattoo number on her leg. Not a navy number but from a breeder or the owner. She could have a chip too. He’d need a vet to look for that. He noted it. Someone had cared about her once.

He’d find out soon enough.

Not even ten minutes later they pulled into a large parking lot to an even larger animal clinic. Stone hopped out, came around and opened the tailgate, so Ethan could slide out with his precious cargo. Then they walked inside.

By the time Ethan made it through the double glass doors, a gurney was already pushed toward him. Very gently he laid the shepherd on it.

A woman stepped in front of him, took one look at the shepherd and said, “Do you know what happened?”

Ethan shook his head. “I saw her an hour or so ago. I’ve been tracking her since.”

Stone interrupted. “Louise, this is the shepherd we told you about. The one we couldn’t get close to.”

Her gaze went from one man to the other; then she looked at the shepherd. “Well, somebody managed to.” She turned, pushing the gurney toward the internal set of opaque doors, marked Surgery. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Ethan followed.

She stopped at the surgery doors and faced him, shaking her head. “Medical personnel only.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

She hesitated, looked at Stone, then back at Ethan. “So you’re one of them?”

He raised one eyebrow.

She sighed. “Do you have any training?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Field style.”

She groaned. “Of course you do. You’re a handler.”

He gave a slight shrug. “You could say that. Trainer, handler, keeper of War Dogs.”

She looked torn.

“I want to remain beside her.”

Louise made a quick decision and gave him a clipped nod. “Stay out of my way.”

He didn’t answer, just placed a hand on the shepherd and followed alongside the gurney. He walked into a large room with multiple surgical areas.

Louise snapped out orders. Staff came from several corners, and, while Ethan watched, blood was taken, X-rays were snapped, and a full physical exam was done, quickly but efficiently.

Louise said finally, “I’ll be back in a minute. I want to see her X-rays.”

Ethan hadn’t said a word, his hand on the shepherd’s head, gently stroking it to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Finally Louise came back. “She’s in pretty rough shape.” She then ordered IVs for the dog. “We’ll get some fluids and some nutrients into her and try to stabilize her. She’s got a couple busted ribs. Her leg is broken. The back leg looks to have taken a severe blow. We might have to put pins in her hip,” she admitted cautiously. “Someone shot her as well, a glancing blow off the right shoulder. But her broken leg, I can’t say that it’s looking terribly positive.” She pulled her phone out and brought up a photo.

Ethan’s heart sunk at the news.

“You aren’t her owner. So who will pay for this?” she asked.

“I will.”

Surprise lit her eyes. “Glad to hear that. Will you let us look after her?”

He patted and studied the soft fur on the dog’s head. “Yes. I think her hip is okay though. It won’t need pins.”

“I’ll see as I get further along. It looks like the animal is young and in emaciated condition when she was hit. Probably dragged herself off the road and has been trying to survive ever since.”

He nodded. “Fix her up.” He took a step back. “No matter the cost.”

Louise hesitated, then said softly, “You know it could be expensive.”

“I can easily make more money.” His gaze was steady, and then he nodded. “Sometimes we all need something more than merely money.” On those words, he turned and walked out of the surgery room. Instinctively he knew Louise was one of the vets who cared. And she’d do everything she could to keep that shepherd alive.

Cinnamon Michelson studied the man standing at the surgery doors, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, a grim line on his lips, his jaw clenched. She didn’t understand what was going on, but whatever it was hurt him. Even as she watched, a muscle in his jaw flexed at something happening on the other side of the frosted glass.

He stayed there for too long. She didn’t think it could be good for him. Obviously an injured animal was in there, and it was one he cared about deeply. She’d brought in a friend’s dog for more of a grooming-related visit, one she looked after on a regular basis. The little guy would be another half hour yet before he would be ready to go home.

She turned to look around the large sitting room, then walked to the coffeepot. There she poured two cups. She looked at the man still standing at the door and headed to him. “I thought you could use this.”

He turned to look at her with a speed that almost made her spill the coffee. Instantly his hands reached out and studied her, but he didn’t grab the hot cups. He had grabbed her wrists.

Her breath released slowly. In a gentle voice she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I brought you a cup of coffee.”

At the confusion in his eyes and the intent way he looked at her, she had to wonder how long it had been since anybody had done such a simple deed for him.

She smiled up at him. “You didn’t look like the kind of guy who would use sugar.”

He tilted his head to the side, looked down at her wrists. He dropped her hands and accepted the cup. In a low, deep voice, he said, “Thank you. And, no, no sugar.”

She motioned toward the area where the coffee was set up and said, “If you need creamer, it’s over there.”

His lips quirked. “Black is the only way to drink coffee.” He glanced at his cup and over at hers, then said, “Thank you. I’m sorry for grabbing you.”

His voice seemed almost … rusty, as if maybe the apology or the polite conversation was hard for him.

She didn’t know what it was about these injured animals, but she was a sucker for each and every one. She tilted her head in a gentle motion, wary of making a faster motion and scaring him. “You didn’t hurt me, so it’s all right.” She stepped back and sat in one of the chairs against the wall. “It doesn’t help to stand there and watch the animals on the other side. You know that, right?”

His eyes shuttered away something, like he took a step backward into his own little world again. She was sorry she’d brought it up.

He gave her a crooked smile and said, “Nothing wrong with doing it either.”

“Don’t you think it hurts you more?” she asked. “Whatever injured animal is in there is getting the best help they can get. Louise is phenomenal.”

“I don’t know her,” he said, “but I’m hoping that shepherd gets the care she needs.”

“Is she yours?”

A second curtain went down, shielding whatever else his eyes might reveal. He gave a brief shake of his head. “No, I saw her when I drove past the road. Then stopped to help her.”

“Any idea what happened?” she asked curiously. She hadn’t told him that most of what she did was arrange for animal adoptions, usually from other countries, but sometimes within the general area or across the country. She and Anna worked closely together. He probably didn’t know Anna and probably didn’t know about Anna’s shelter.

“No,” he said, his voice tight. “Possibly hit by a vehicle.”

She felt herself recoil against that. “An all-too-common occurrence,” she murmured. She dropped her gaze to the cup of coffee in her hand and lifted it, hoping it wouldn’t burn her lips. She blew over the cup’s edge, and, when she thought it was safe, she took a sip. “What are you doing after she’s taken care of?”

He only looked at her.

“Or have you not thought that far ahead?”

He raised his gaze. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t leave her out there.”

Cinn’s heart melted a little. Any guy who would go to this much effort to save an injured shepherd couldn’t be bad. Those who looked after animals the best were usually injured in some way themselves. Maybe in the hopes somebody would treat them better too. In a moment of self-clarity, she thought, I have to stop psychoanalyzing men. It had gotten her into trouble more than a few times. On dogs, that worked great. But men were a different story.

“Anna and Flynn’s shelter is around the corner,” Cinn said gently. “They might take her in.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m not deserting her.”

A wealth of emotion was in that word deserting. She sat quietly contemplating what that meant to a man who appeared to be lost in his own world.

“Can you look after her?” she asked suddenly, worried the shepherd would end up in a situation worse than the one this man had found her in.

“Yes.”

And that was all he said. She didn’t have any right to push it. But it was hard not to. “I work with animal rescues around the world. We move animals into homes from country to country. If you need somebody to look after her …”

He gave a hard shake of his head but remained silent.

Even without words he had made that pretty clear. She settled in her chair and waited. Not another sound came out of him.

Finally the double doors opened, and Louise came out. She looked tired, but a happy smile appeared as she walked toward the man beside her and smiled at him. “You were right. No pins required. It was dislocated. I couldn’t see that from the X-ray. Too much damage around it. I fixed her up as much as I could. She will need several days here with us.”

He straightened slowly, towering over Louise. But Louise didn’t appear to be intimidated in any way. Cinn wondered about that. Then again, Louise was with Rory and the rest of Levi’s gang. And she was probably used to dealing with these hard alpha males. Though this one appeared to be a broken, dangerous one.

Cinn sighed. “I did suggest that maybe, if you didn’t want to look after the shepherd, Anna might take her.”

Louise turned and looked at Cinn with a smile. “Hey. I didn’t see you there. You’ve been talking to this gentleman, have you?”

Cinn nodded. But the man in question never moved.

“Stone said your name is Ethan?” Louise asked boldly.

Ethan gave a clipped nod.

“Do you live around here?”

Ethan shrugged.

Louise appeared satisfied with that.

But, for Cinn, it raised a million more questions. Stone knew him? She knew Stone from Anna and Flynn’s place. Many of Levi’s men came to help out there. But she’d never seen Ethan before. Who was he? Where was he staying? She thought she knew every local male. And what kind of a man went out of his way to help a shepherd and to stay to hear her prognosis? The shepherd would need long-term care until she was fully healed. Was he ready for that?

“I want to see her,” Ethan said.

Louise considered him for a long moment. “When we get her set up in the cage, I’ll let you in for a minute.”

The briefest of smiles crossed his face, but it was enchanting to Cinn. He sat abruptly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Louise headed back into the surgery area. Knowing the way she worked, chances were she would deal with another half-dozen animals before her day was done.

Cinn had often wondered about getting more education, but just the thought of seven years of vet school had been enough to stop her. She was a project manager, a job she operated from home for a large company. It gave her a lot of freedom, so she could continue her volunteer work with the animals. Though sometimes it was difficult to make both of them work.

Just then Megan, the receptionist, called Cinn’s name. Cinn walked over to see Mitzi, the little shih tzu she’d brought in for her friend Sandra, being led toward her.

“Her nails are taken care of,” Megan said. “That one toenail was infected, but we’ve cleaned it out, disinfected it, and she should be good to go now.”

Chuckling at the greeting Mitzi gave her, Cinn bent down, scooped her into her arms and said, “Are you okay to put this on Sandra’s account, or do you want me to cover it?”

“It’s all good,” Megan said.

Cinn waved goodbye and left her empty coffee cup on the counter where she’d placed it. At her car, she put Mitzi into the carrier in the back, snapped it tight, making sure the seat belt was buckled, and got into the front seat.

As she looked up, she saw Ethan sitting where she’d left him, looking at her. She glanced around and saw the big black truck and knew instinctively it would be his. She frowned, wondering what she should do and why she wasn’t pulling away. Because she sure as hell should be. Finally she reached for her notebook and, wondering if this was a mistake, wrote down her name, phone number and a brief note underneath. She pulled the sheet of paper from the notebook, exited the car, walked over to the truck and tucked it under his wipers. She got back into her car and drove away.

She saw black clouds forming above, and she mentally told Ethan to hurry and read her note because the rain would smear the ink. She figured what she had done was very stupid, but she couldn’t help herself. That man looked like he needed a friend.