Rest. Relax. For how long?” Lyn sat on the couch in the main area of the cabin, tapping her fingers on the windowsill. It wasn’t as if she’d broken anything.
David had left only a few minutes ago. And to his credit, he’d mentioned something about lunch as he’d left.
It was already past mid-morning so unless he planned to starve her, lunch couldn’t be too far off.
Patience had never been one of her virtues, though.
“At least he left you with me.” She turned away from the windowsill and studied Atlas.
The dog lay stretched out on the floor with his head on his paws, as close to her perch on the couch as possible. He’d opened his eyes and lifted his big ears in her direction at her movement.
“You are my job, after all.” She continued to consider him.
His attitude really had changed overnight. The look in his eyes was still somewhat reserved in her opinion, but he was more obvious about listening to her. Not as aloof or disinterested as yesterday, or first thing in the morning, for that manner.
Good signs, all of them.
David was a good dog trainer. She had no doubts after having seen him greet the other dogs at the kennel. Every one of the dogs in the care of Hope’s Crossing Kennels jumped to their feet at his approach, eager for a word from him or the chance to work. His body language was always relaxed, confident. He moved with the kind of easy readiness—potential for explosive action in every muscle—that commanded respect. The dogs were sensitive to it, acknowledged him as a dominant in the territory. With him, there was no question as to who was in charge.
“But you need more than clear leadership,” she murmured to Atlas. He blinked and blew a huff of air out of his nose.
She held out her hand in a loose fist, the back of her hand toward him. He considered for a long minute before lifting his head and extending his nose. One sniff. Then he returned to resting on his paws again, looking away from her. Not interested in more than acknowledging her.
“It’s good to have this time to get to know you.” She always talked to dogs when they were relaxing. If she’d been working with him instead of enjoying quiet time—and there was a difference—she’d give him clear and concise commands instead of conversational commentary. Even eager-to-please dogs still needed to understand what it was a human wanted them to do and they didn’t precisely speak human. They learned to recognize short commands combined with body language. Any human could speak a command, in any language, and it’d still take a dog a minute to really understand what the human wanted unless the human copied a known trainer exactly in words, tone, and gestures. Then the dog probably made an educated guess.
“You’re smart enough to know what we all want from you,” she murmured. “But obedience and working aren’t what you want to do right now, are they? You’ve lost your heart.”
She didn’t blame him. Being heartbroken was something she could understand.
“I’ve never had my heart broken by a boyfriend, mind you.” She leaned her head back against the couch’s arm rest. Confiding in dogs was one of the most secure ways of getting something off her chest. And opening herself up to them gained their trust in return, every time. “I think human hearts break, too, when the people we live for disappoint us. Like our parents. I have trust issues.”
Of course, if David was to walk in, he’d probably think he was interrupting a therapy session. Only she was the one on the couch talking about her emotional baggage while Atlas was the shrink listening.
There was a method to what she was doing, though. Atlas was getting used to the cadence and tone of her voice. Her scent surrounded him in this room. And every movement she made was being cataloged in a library in his mind associated to her. The introduction process was a long one, and the more time the dog had to interact with her, the more comfortable he’d be because he’d know what she was likely to do.
Her phone rang, the tone bringing her bolt upright in her seat. Atlas was on his feet beside her, his entire body tense and his ears forward at alert. A low growl rumbled from his chest.
“Sorry, Atlas. Easy.” She took a deep breath, calming herself so the dog would take her cue and go back to resting.
Damn it. As much as she hated the distinctive ringtone—or rather, the caller it was assigned to—she figured she better answer it before the caller decided to blow up her phone again.
“Hello, Captain Jones.” Neutral. She was going for a nice, civil exchange.
A pause. “I have repeatedly instructed you to call me ‘Father.’” The voice on the other end was surly.
Make no mistake, his feelings weren’t hurt. In her twenty-eight years of experience, he’d gone around in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction with the world. Well, at least twenty-five. Theoretically, the first few years of her life hadn’t been formative in terms of actual memories. Her mother had married him when she’d been just a toddler.
Instead of arguing the point, she decided to go for pleasantries. “I hope you’ve been well. Is there a reason you’re calling?”
“Don’t try to sidetrack me, miss. Each time you insist on your lack of respect for familial ties, it becomes more of a habit. One of these days you’re going to do it in front of admiralty and the reflection on me will be absolutely inappropriate. I will not have it.” His words came low and fast, as they always did whether they were speaking face to face or over the phone. Given the choice, she preferred the distance. Then she could pretend the admonishments didn’t give her cold chills anymore. The impact of his intense, quiet speeches was worse for her than all the screaming in the world.
“You’re one promotion away from Rear Admiral.” She commended herself for a cool, even delivery there. “Surely your service record outweighs the impact of a few words from me.”
Besides, he hadn’t ever let her call him “Daddy” or “Dad,” and not “Papa,” ever. Not what had come naturally to her as a child. It’d always been “Father” for as long as she could remember. Proper. Formal. And pronounced properly as soon as humanly possible.
“It’s amazing you ever graduated from college.” His words dripped with disgust. Oh, what a surprise. “Even basic classes and interaction with professors should have demonstrated that perception is a distinct advantage in every situation. Never underestimate it.”
What will people think? echoed through her childhood. “Of course. I do remember those lessons from you.”
“Then apply what you learned.” A command, not a request. With him it was never a request.
She waited. He’d called her and she’d asked why. He could either continue to rant or actually get to the reason for this contact in the first place.
“I was informed you experienced an attack.” Was that a note of discomfort? Surely not.
“There was an incident at my hotel last night. I gave a detailed report to the police.” She waited to see where this was going.
There was an intake of breath. “Did you see your attackers well enough to identify them?”
A leering grin flashed across her mind’s eye. Her heart kicked hard in her chest and she swallowed the sudden taste of bile. Atlas was on his feet in front of her, pulling her focus with a somber stare.
She was safe. Atlas had made sure of it.
Regaining her composure, she stood and tried to walk off the residual nerves as she answered, “Not last night.”
Maybe her stepfather was concerned? Hard to tell with him, but there was always room for surprise in the day.
“No? It would have been useful if you could give a sketch artist something to work with.”
Ah. Of course. How easy it was to find a shortcoming. “The man I saw was wearing a ski mask. The other attacker came from behind and I never saw him.”
This was her stepfather’s chance to express concern. Two attackers. Didn’t he wonder how she’d come through in one piece?
“As your point of escalation on your current contract, I was notified about the encounter and your physical status but not given the details of the sequence of events.” He paused. “I assume you were able to trigger an alarm of some sort to call for aid.”
Actually, no. And if Cruz hadn’t arrived when he had, she wouldn’t have been able to. Something she was going to fix, and soon. Maybe one of those tiny, super loud air horns to carry in her purse. “Not quite, but help was close by and the police were called as soon as possible.”
She was reluctant to mention Cruz saving her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful. She was. But the idea of admitting to her stepfather that she’d needed rescuing stuck in her throat. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, should’ve been able to guard herself better. The nature of her job had her traveling alone most of the time and right now the idea of staying in a hotel gave her more than a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly cold, she shuddered.
“You’ve changed to a hotel with better security?” It was more of a statement than a question. Another assumption.
He made those a lot. And basically considered you an imbecile if you hadn’t done what he considered the most logical, best, or expedient thing to do.
This time, she was fairly certain he would be surprised but not disappointed. “Not a hotel. I’ve moved into guest accommodations directly on Hope’s Crossing Kennels property.”
Silence. Then, “Is staying on the premises a common practice when you are consulting?”
Oh no, judgment could stop right there. “With private clients, of course not. However, this is a professional kennel facility and it makes absolute sense to be as near Atlas as possible while I work with him. It maximizes my access to him and the increased exposure could potentially speed his recovery.”
There, refute that line of reasoning.
“Indeed.” Another pause. “And security is sufficient on the premises?”
Was he actually concerned for her safety? She checked her incredulity. She was getting petty and letting it go was still a work in progress. Recent years working on her own had helped her maturity in dealing with him but this contract and the sudden uptick in conversations dragged up too many old habits. It was time to think more constructively. “Security here is better than most hotels. Gated entrance, video surveillance, and dogs with various levels of advanced training.” She paused. It seemed thorough to her so she considered what else might be useful information to provide before he needed to prompt her again. “One of them has been caught.”
“How?” His voice turned sharp.
Puzzled, she answered, “He showed up here at the kennels while I was working with Atlas this morning. Atlas apprehended him.”
And she was incredibly proud of Atlas. She paused in her slow pacing around the room and turned to give the dog a soft smile. He was still in front of the couch, sitting now.
“Ah.” Her stepfather cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware. It’s not likely you were targeted at random at the hotel, then. Do the police know why this man seems to have targeted you specifically?”
“That’s a good point.” It galled her to acknowledge it because any time he had one it was an assumption he was right about all things, in perpetuity. “The police took him into custody. I haven’t heard anything more.”
Silence.
“I guess you were only notified about last night’s incident so far?” She was walking out on thin ice and at any minute it was going to crack under her feet.
She didn’t want to think about the attack last night or the man showing up this morning. But there was a reason he’d come after her and there was another man still out there. It might be more trouble for Hope’s Crossing Kennels and she didn’t want to repay their generosity in letting her stay with the danger. Uneasy, she started to pace again. Maybe she should discuss this with David.
“I’m sure I’ll be notified shortly. I’ll also take steps to ensure there isn’t a delay in this kind of update in the future.” So matter of fact.
If he only said it was because he cared, it’d make all the difference. Instead, he made it sound like he was just making sure he could call in expedient damage control in case she managed to embarrass him. She used to think he was planning a political career the way he worried so much about appearances. But the two of them had never been on the same page, so neither understood the other’s aspirations.
She’d given up trying to share a long time ago.
“You were the one who wanted to be involved in this particular military case.” He had to bring it up. “There are quite a few eyes on the dog. He’s been prominent in the news and other media outlets.”
Of course. “I’m making good progress for having only recently met Atlas.”
“Good. I expect personal status reports.” Crisp. Maybe even cheerful? For him.
There was quite the range of moods from him today. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on the phone with him for this long.
“Via e-mail?” she asked hopefully. Please. E-mail would be so much less awkward than phone calls.
“Secure e-mail correspondence with me, always. Use the encryption program I sent you.” He sounded distracted now. Already done with her and on to the next thing.
Actually, she was relieved. It’d been a weird conversation. “No problem.”
Still, she was surprised he was interested enough in Atlas and her work to request actual status reports. Of course, this was the first time her line of work had overlapped with anything remotely related to his, and as the main holder of her contract she supposed it did reflect directly on him.
“I’ll send you some background on this kennel and the man working with you on the dog.”
She blinked. “I’d planned to research both the kennel and the people I’m working with already.”
“The research should have been done in advance, but you wouldn’t have the resources to access much more than names and public record.” He made it sound so dismissive.
Well, she wasn’t a private investigator and as a civilian, she was limited to what a good Internet search could find for her. He had another point. She was never going to be someone to spite herself by turning down valuable information just because of where it came from.
“Background information would be helpful.” There. As close to a thank-you as she was going to manage through gritted teeth.
“Remember. Your performance reflects on me and that dog is a military asset. Conduct yourself professionally.” His admonishment sparked her temper again. “The man you’re working with is former military. Don’t let him run over you on this case. Men like him are still military even after they’ve left active duty. Arrogant sons of bitches. Do not let him take credit for our family’s work.”
Hello, pot, calling kettle black.
And there was no way her stepfather could know about the…almost moment between her and David. Something she hadn’t had a chance to think about, but she should. Until she did, though, her stepfather needed to recognize this project included real souls. Not just assets listed on a report. “That dog’s name is Atlas. And I am always professional. I’m very good at what I do.”
Damn. Too much. She shouldn’t have taken the bait. Shouldn’t have gotten defensive about her abilities.
“We’ll see.” He ended the call.
Of course. He always had the last word. And damn, but it’d left her reaching for a comeback again. Too slow. Flustered. He’d won that round.
She tapped her foot, restless. Atlas hadn’t budged from his spot over by the couch, but he was sitting up and watching her. Another good sign. Even if he wanted to maintain a little detachment, he was tuned in to what she was doing and what her moods were. Engaged. Very positive considering yesterday he’d been completely disinterested in life in general and people specifically.
No harm in continuing a bit of therapeutic venting in Atlas’s direction. Dogs were excellent listeners. “I lived and breathed to please my stepfather when I was a kid. He was never home. The few times he came back, I wanted to show him everything I’d done while he was gone. How good I’d been. And somehow I got it into my head that if I could just do well enough in school, win enough awards, excel at sports, then he’d come home to stay. Every time he left again, it broke my heart.” Her eyes grew hot and she blinked against dryness. The tears had long since burned away when it came to this set of memories. “When he finally sat me down and informed me how very little I mattered in the bigger picture of his career and his life with my mother, my heart was in pieces on the floor. I was extra baggage. Someone else’s genetic contribution to the continuation of the human race. And out of honor, he’d see to it I had the basics to grow up and contribute to society. That was it.”
She huffed out a soft laugh. Atlas gave her one of those doggy raised eyebrow looks.
“By the time I realized I had nothing to do with his decisions, I thought I hated him. Really. It took a long time to realize no matter how mad I was at him, how much I said I didn’t care, I was waiting for the one time he’d say I’d proved him wrong or made him proud.” She chewed on her lip. It’d been a bitter taste, admitting it to herself. “He’s not a bad man. His priorities are different from…basically the rest of the warm-blooded, caring portion of this world.”
Atlas settled back down on his belly, his head raised as he continued to listen to her.
She stepped toward him and crouched down to sit back on her heels within arm’s reach of him. “We’re all assets to him. We each go in one of two buckets: useful or useless. And to be honest, even if I built my career on my own and in spite of his doubts, I still want to prove to him I’m not useless.”
She sighed. And Atlas sighed too.
“I want to say it’s not a primary driver.” Studying the beautiful contrast of black in the tan of Atlas’s face, calm settled over her. “And it’s not. I came here for you and your story. Just reading what happened, I wanted to get to know you. And now that I’ve met you, I want to see you happy again.”
Because broken hearts could heal. It wasn’t a whimsical child’s refuge, it was her very real belief and she wanted it for Atlas.