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“I’m trying to understand why your eyes aren’t hard.”
“Pretty easy. Like I said, I was my Commando team’s K9 handler. If I walked around with special forces energy, my dogs would pick up on that and get stressed out. Our dogs only work when they’re having fun.”
“Fun? In war?” Mary asked, adjusting the pillows behind her back.
“They don’t understand war. They understand they’re doing a job. And they want to please their handler. As the handler, I needed to make sure they were healthy and happy at work. Their job saved my brothers’ lives. My life. So, so many times.”
“War calcifies people.” She sighed, “I’m an ex-military wife; I’ve seen it. There are ramifications for the families.”
“This is, unfortunately, true. It had an effect on my family. I’m also divorced. It’s me and Max.”
“Max looks young.”
“He turned two years last week.”
“Happy birthday, baby.” She scritched his ears. “How did he come into your life?”
Halo propped his feet on the bed next to Mary’s. It felt comfortable. It felt like—Mary searched for a word, and all she could come up with was ‘aligned.’ It felt like they had already done all the trust-building. After all, she wasn’t testing the guy to see if he’d show up and help her move something heavy. She’d literally put her survival in the man’s hands, and he had been a solid partner in getting her from desperate to safe. She’d survived. Yeah, after today’s fire, Mary couldn’t imagine this man hurting her or allowing her to come to harm. There was a certain amount of peace that came with her conviction.
“I went with a friend on an errand to the shelter, where I met Max. From the moment I looked into his eyes, I knew that we were partners. I’ve been training him since he was a pup.” Max lifted his head from Mary’s lap and looked over at Halo. “From the beginning, keeping Max’s mind busy with training had been a challenge. But it’s proven to be imperative. A bored Max can easily become a destructive Max. There is no kennel or lock yet from which Max can’t devise his Houdini-like escape. And that led to one very bad puppy teething incident when I came home to find he’d eaten my leather couch.”
Mary laughed. “Oh, but he was a little puppy, right?”
“He’s still young and super bright, which makes for a challenging combo. If Max isn’t learning, he’s looking for his own fun. And sometimes that’s destructive.”
“Destructive like what?” Mary said, bending to plant a kiss on Max’s head. “Besides your couch.”
“He ate the rubber bumper off my mate’s car.”
Her brows flew up. “Serious?”
“He was mighty proud of himself when he had it all the way off.” Halo reached over to the mini fridge and pulled out a water bottle, holding it up.
“Yes, thank you. That could become a very expensive habit, eating bumpers.” She reached for the bottle and then settled back. “He was wearing a working vest today. I’m trying to put that together with his bringing me my clothes. What is his job? What are Malinois bred to do?”
“They’re herd dogs, like shepherds.”
“Then why do Navy SEALs use them?” She rolled the water bottle along her neck, appreciating the coolness and weight.
“High energy, amazing noses, highly trainable. They’ve got the speed and drive, the work ethic and loyalty that we need.”
“The loyalty is apparent. And his job? What does he do? I mean, besides eating couches and cars.”
“He’s trained in tracking for search and rescue. He’s also a tactical dog.”
“Which means?” she asked.
“He can jump out of helicopters, fast rope down cliffs. He can take down the bad guy.”
“A hero pup.” Her hand slid down to pat Max’s rump. “And you trained him to do all that? Impressive. Halo isn’t your given name. is it?”
“No, I’m Basil St. John. Halo isn’t a bad call sign. Could be worse. They could have focused on Basil and called me Herb or Spaghetti or something. Some guys got terrible names.”
“Yeah? Give me an example.”
“Well, you just met Nutsbe. His last name is Crushed.”
“Nutsbe Crushed?” She laughed. “That’s terrible! His poor mother.”
