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It was at that moment that Halo placed the woman. Max and she had already bonded. She was the woman at the airport who had crouched down, looking at Max. And Max had wanted to be with her, tugging at his lead. That was the first time Halo had seen that happen.
In the airport, Max’s nose had been chuffing the air as he tried to get over to her.
Yea, Halo was sure that Max had recognized her scent.
Pulling up the tracking app, Halo saw that the red dot representing Max was three blocks away and wasn’t moving. Halo’s heart had gripped, wondering if a car had hit Max.
He raced up the street until he saw the two of them together. Her in her panties and sports bra, feet in the cool gutter water, draping over Max, her head on his neck.
As Halo approached, without moving his body, Max turned to Halo, and Halo clearly read in his dog’s eyes that he had decided that Mary was his to guard.
Yours and mine both, mate.
Bloody hell, that feeling of her getting in the taxi without him, Max wanting to jump in beside her. He knew her name as Mary. He knew she was American. Nothing else.
Calling out, “Can I have your number,” or “Where are you staying?” or any of the other things that sprang to mind made him sound like a creep. Like someone who wanted to take advantage of the situation. All he wanted for her at that moment was that she get safely back to her hotel where she could rest.
When the taxi drove away, Max was pissed.
And Halo stood there feeling like his soul had been snatched away.
“Gentlemen,” Titus said. “The agenda for the rest of the day. I’d like you to spend some time individually walking around Old City, Tallinn, getting a feel for the area and the people. This evening, I’ve made reservations for the team downstairs in the restaurant. There is an open mic tonight, so if anyone wants to sign up, go ahead and do that on your way out.” He turned to Nutsbe. “I’d like you to eat early so you’re ready for your meeting with Honey. Max’s crate has arrived, and the staff set it up in Halo’s room. I’d like Max to stay crated this evening while you supervise him, Nutsbe.” He turned to catch Halo’s gaze. “I’d like you downstairs with us, get some grub, and get to know the Panther Force team.”
It was wisely against Iniquus' policy to leave one of the Iniquus-affiliated K9s unsupervised. And since Nutsbe had brought Max all the way over from the states, Halo was cool with that. “Yes, sir.”
***
That evening, right on time, Nutsbe arrived at Halo’s room to find sleeping Max lying on his back, legs sprawled wide, snoring.
“Enjoy yourself. I’ll text if I have anything come up,” Nutsbe said as Halo patted over his pockets to make sure he had everything and headed out the door.
Dinner with an open mic might be distracting. And Halo desperately wanted a distraction.
He was still hoping that Nutsbe would come up with a name and contact information so he could reach out to Mary.
Until then, yeah, distraction was the best he could do.
He walked down the hall and decided to take the stairs to pound away some of this odd sensation that had bubbled through his system ever since Mary kissed him goodbye.
He was thinking about Max’s desperation to get in the taxi with Mary and his last determined lunge to lick her cheek.
As they’d walked around Tallinn earlier, Halo had been going over the how and why of Max’s connection to Mary that had started in the airport.
Dogs were alert to even the smallest changes in a person’s posture or environment. They knew what a human would do even before the human had recognized that a decision had been made. That’s why a dog would run over and sit by their lead, waiting for a walk, before their human realized that they would go out.
That scenario was a very domestic application of a dog’s keen sense. In his job, that ability to see micromovements was about minute-to-minute survival.
The dogs Halo handled were taught to focus on a weapon.
A weapon in the hand of a bad guy might be alright; there might still be time to talk the guy down, and everyone could leave whole and healthy. This was particularly important when they were on foreign lands negotiating through difficult situations.
But if a finger were to slide into the guard and rest on a trigger, then all bets were off.
From helmet cameras that the team used to analyze the various situations they’d found themselves in, they watched time and time again as the dogs launched into the air as the bad guy’s finger still laid along the guard. As their mouths opened wide to wrap the wrist, they’d be chomping just as the finger moved into a lethal position on the trigger.
Their jaws locked down on the tendon, making it impossible for the finger to pull back and fire their weapon. The excruciating pain of having the arm bones crushed between the pressure of those jaws preempted any thoughts outside of survival.
Through these tapes, Halo learned to always trust his dog.
