Saved by a Warrior Dog

by Cassidy Wells

  The door opened again and her eyes met Rob’s. He strode across the room, and her heart leaped. She put her hand over it to keep it in her chest and broke into a big grin as she noticed the heat in his eyes. She came out from behind the desk and met him halfway across the cavernous entryway.

  “How did it go?” she whispered.

  “Good, I think. I came to take you out to lunch, if you can get away. If not, I’ll go pick something up and bring it back.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her office, closing the door behind them. “It went well? Really? I’m so glad! I’ve been thinking about you and hoping everything was okay.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. “I was nervous about it. I met with a psychologist. He gets it. He thinks I have PTSD, but he was encouraging about resolving it. There are no guarantees, but he thinks I can do it.”

  “You can! I don’t doubt it.”

  “I want to celebrate. Can you get away?”

  She looked around at the handful of people inside the library. “Sorry, I can’t kick people out. Why don’t you go over to Burger Barn and pick up something? We can eat in the break room, and you can tell me all about your morning.”

  Twenty minutes later he was back with a bagful of burgers, fries, and two chocolate milkshakes.

  MJ moaned as she bit into the juicy hamburger. “I’d forgotten how much I love these.” She swiped at her mouth to wipe off the ketchup that had escaped. “Now, tell me all about your appointment.” She paused. “If you want to, that is.”

  A look of uncertainty passed over his face but quickly disappeared. Maybe she shouldn’t ask. “It’s okay,” she started, but he interrupted.

  “I want to.” His soft voice belied any enthusiasm about discussing it. “You deserve to know.” He told her about his visit to the clinic, and the questions Dr. Rodrguez asked. “He was getting preliminary information about my deployments, the experiences I had, especially in Afghanistan. He wanted to know about my symptoms. I told him about the nightmares, and how they’ve increased in frequency. He told me that was a sign I was ready to address the trauma I experienced.” He looked at her face and ducked his head. “I hope you understand I never want to tell you about some things I saw or did over there. It isn’t because I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t want you to have images in your head the way I do.”

  She felt tears threaten and blinked them back. She cleared her throat. “I understand, Rob. I appreciate you trying to spare me, but if you need to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, honey,” he said, shaking his head. He caressed the line of her jaw with his thumb, before it wandered over to touch her lower lip.

  Her breath caught. How could he be so caring and aware of her needs when he was suffering so much?

  “He diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder—PTSD. I wasn’t surprised. I figured that’s what it was. He wants me to go for individual counseling once a week, and to a PTSD Support Group on Tuesday nights. I go back tomorrow at eleven.”

  She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m proud of you for getting help this way.”

  “I was fooling myself to think it would go away by itself. After that night I attacked you, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t bear it if I somehow hurt you.”

  “I know. If there’s anything you need from me during your treatment, I hope you’ll tell me. I want to help any way I can.”

  He gathered up the wrappers from their meal. “I know you need to get back to work. I’ll see you when you get home.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll pick up Maverick, and we’ll go to the park. I could use some PT to burn off the tension of telling a stranger what’s wrong with me.”

  She gave him a light punch in the arm. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rob.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I’m perfect.”

  “Well, close to perfect, anyway.” She felt herself blush. He didn’t need a declaration of her feelings for him. He had enough to deal with. Time would tell whether they could make it as a couple.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rob and Maverick jogged to the park side by side. Rob’s leg got stronger each time they did this. Time and exercise had increased his mobility and Maverick’s. Maybe eventually, he’d get full mobility back. He might never be at the performance level he’d been while in the Marines, but with luck, he’d recover enough to succeed at a physical job like ranching.

  The next few months would tell what his future might bring in a lot of different areas—physically, mentally, emotionally, and in his relationship with MJ. He had a tough road ahead. Would the VA be able to help him recover from the things he’d seen and done, and the ways they’d affected him? He’d tried to ignore the PTSD, but he needed to jump in with both feet. Learn as much about it as he could. Wouldn’t that help him heal faster than waiting for his counselor to take him through baby steps?

  What if he approached his recovery like a mission? He could gather intelligence on the “enemy,” and plan out how to take PTSD out for good. He’d talk to the counselor about it. He wanted to fast-track his recovery. Hell, he wanted to be whole for MJ. She deserved a man who wasn’t an emotional cripple. Would he be good enough for her? That remained to be seen.

  He felt Maverick’s leash tighten and looked at the Malinois. His body tensed, and his eyes locked onto a figure on the other side of the park.

  “Maverick, calma.” He wouldn’t call the dog off until he’d assessed what made him so nervous. He stopped and put Maverick into a sit. The man headed across the green space toward them. As he approached them, Rob recognized him. Crap. It was Kent Barnard. Neither he nor Maverick needed this. The dog let out a low-throated growl, and the hair on his back stood up. It matched the tingle at the back of Rob’s neck. This guy was trouble. He grabbed onto Maverick’s halter.

  “Barnard,” he acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can get the hell out of this town,” the man growled. “You need to keep your nose out of my business.”

  “What makes you think I’m in your business?”

  “Sheriff questioned me about that fire. I explained I don’t know anything about it.” He smirked. “Tough luck, you gettin’ burned out like that.”

  Rob shrugged. He didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of a response.

  “Seems like you and your junkyard dog don’t have any reason to stay in Ridgeview now.”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe not, but I’ll decide when it’s time to leave. I don’t need your suggestion.”

  He tensed as Kent stepped into Maverick’s space and leaned over him. The man let out a mirthless laugh. “Be too bad if something happened to him, wouldn’t it?”

  “Are you threatening my dog? I’d step back if I were you. Not sure I can keep him from tearing your throat out when you get that close.” Maverick’s growl deepened into a snarl.

  “You best keep him contained. Be a shame if they took him from you as a vicious dog. They’d kill him, you know. That’s what they do around here with a mean, out-of-control cur.”

  “You keep taunting him, and I can’t promise anything.”

  Barnard gave an evil grin and backed up a step, but Rob didn’t think for a minute that the guy was afraid. What was his game?

  He spoke into the tense silence. “Look, you leave us alone, and we’ll leave you alone. This park is a public space, so we all have a right to be here. We’ve done nothing to you. Don’t give us a reason to change that.”

  Kent Barnard shrugged and turned away. He looked over his shoulder with a parting glare. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget for a minute what you’ve done. You need to stay out of my relationship with my wife and daughter.”

  Rob stopped himself before responding that he’d called the cops because Kent had been harassing his ex-wife and child. He didn’t need to feed the flames of the man’s delusions. He’d let the court system do what was necessary to protect the moth
er and child.

  He watched as Barnard walked back across the park and headed down the side street. What was it with this guy? He had a screw loose.

  “C’mon, Maverick. Let’s go home.” Funny how he already thought of MJ’s as “home.” He tried to shake off his uneasiness about the confrontation with Barnard. The threats against Maverick concerned him. He’d call and report it to the sheriff as he’d promised. Maybe the man was just spouting off.

  He headed back to MJ’s, redirecting Maverick’s attention from the distant figure. “We’ve got to steer clear of that jerk, Maverick.” If only he could figure out how to make sure their paths never crossed in the small town. Yeah, good luck with that.

  He took a shower and started making meatloaf and roasted potatoes for supper. MJ should be home soon. Hell, he’d forgotten to call Sheriff Daniels. He put the meatloaf into the oven and potatoes on to boil and fished his cell out of his jacket pocket. After scrolling through a few names, he found the right number.

  “Sheriff Daniels.”

  “Hey, Sheriff. This is Rob Michelini. You know, MJ’s friend. I wanted to let you know I ran into Kent Barnard in Dogwood Park this afternoon. He approached me and told me to stay out of his business. Apparently, he wasn’t happy about you interviewing him. He tried to get a rise out of Maverick and then threatened him.”

  “What did he say exactly?”

  “Something about it being a shame if something happened to him. I warned him about getting too close to him, because Maverick was intense around him. Barnard said if he reacted, he’d be put down as a vicious dog. I wanted to let you know that Maverick is well trained, but it’s almost like Barnard wants him to attack. He got in my dog’s space when he was already growling. The guy seems to have a screw loose. I hope he’ll leave us alone, but I wanted to let you know about it.”

  “Don’t let him get to you and be sure to keep Maverick on a short leash around him. His lawyer would be the sort that would push a lawsuit. Also, they’d love anything that would make Kent seem like more of a victim, you know, something that might build him sympathy with a jury.”

  “I understand. Thanks, Sheriff.” He hung up as MJ came through the door.

  “Hi, Rob. Is everything okay? I thought I heard you say something about the sheriff.”

  “Yeah, I was just talking to Sheriff Daniels to let him know that Maverick and I ran into Kent Barnard this afternoon in the park.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Not really. He just tried to harass Maverick and told me to leave town. I promised the sheriff I’d call if I had any contact with him.”

  “He creeps me out. There’s an odd vibe about him. Maybe it’s what he’s accused of doing to his daughter. I can’t understand how a parent could molest their own child. Angela is such a sweet little girl, and I can’t stand the thought of something like that happening to her.” She shuddered, and he pulled her in for a hug.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll steer clear of him as much as I can. He threatened Maverick, though, and I figured the sheriff needed to know that.”

  She pushed away and dropped to her knees and encircled the dog’s neck with a big hug. “Don’t worry, Maverick. We won’t let anybody hurt you, especially not Kent Barnard!” The dog looked like he was in heaven in MJ’s arms as she petted him and fussed over him.

  “Dinner should be ready soon,” he told her. “Why don’t you go relax a bit, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  She stood and turned back to him, snaking her arms around his waist, and leaning back to look him in the eyes. “I think I need more hugs and kisses.”

  He met her teasing glance. “I can handle that.”

  ***

  “Do you still feel good about your appointment this morning?” MJ asked later as they worked together to do the dishes.

  “I think so. There are a lot of unknowns. I don’t know if talking about it will help. Every time I think about the stuff that happened over there, the PTSD seems to get worse. More nightmares. More flashbacks. More pain.” He paused and looked off at something she couldn’t see. “Frankly, I’d rather forget it all. That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but it hasn’t been working.”

  “I wonder if talking about it with people who understand will let you desensitize yourself? I mean, those nightmares, thoughts, and flashbacks have a lot of power over you. Talking may help you regain control over what has happened to you.”

  “Maybe.”

  He didn’t look convinced, so she dropped it.

  “Maybe I should learn more about PTSD and how to manage it. If I know enough about it, I might master it quicker.”

  “Won’t that stir things up? You just said that when you think about what happened, the PTSD gets worse. Wouldn’t it be better to let your counselor expose you to the things you need to know when you need to know them?” Having Rob muck around in clinical books sounded like a terrible idea to her.

  “I can’t stand when somebody else determines what I know and when. I want to take charge of this thing.” He crossed his arms across his chest as if challenging her.

  She put her hands up and shrugged. “Okay, I can understand that. Wouldn’t it be good to discuss it with your counselor first, though?”

  She could see the frustration behind his thunderous look.

  He blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “You don’t get it, do you? Fine. I won’t ask your help finding books about PTSD and military service.” He turned his back on her and stomped to the back door, slamming it closed behind him. She heard his truck start and shook her head as she caught Maverick’s gaze. “Stubborn man. I’m just trying to keep him from getting in over his head and making things worse. Doesn’t he understand that?” She imagined Maverick’s dark brown eyes agreed with her.

  “C’mon, boy. Let’s do your walk.”

  Maverick’s ears perked up at the word. Getting to his feet, he gave her that doggy smile that made her laugh. Maybe walking Maverick would get her into a better mood.

  She attached his harness and leash, and led him out the door and down the street, practicing giving the dog commands in English the first time around the block, and then in Italian. She could do this. She was getting a handle on the body language needed to be in a leadership position.

  When she got back to the house, she unhooked Maverick’s leash to let him do his nightly exploration of the backyard. No sign of Rob yet. She checked her cell for a text. Nothing.

  Maverick disappeared into the bushes at the back of the property. Must smell a critter back there. Maybe a rabbit.

  She called to him, unwilling to have him hunting a sweet bunny. “C’mon, Maverick. Get out of that bush!” She headed into the gathering gloom, muttering. “You’d never do this to Rob. C’mon!”

  When she reached the Malinois, she heard him give a low-throated growl. Her step faltered. He wouldn’t growl at a rabbit, would he? Please, don’t let it be a skunk. She peered into the large bush that nearly covered the fence behind it.

  What the hell? She saw a lidless plastic container on the ground with what looked like ground beef in it. “Maverick! Leave it!” What were the Italian words for ‘leave it alone’? “Altolà! Lascialo!”

  Maverick sat and didn’t get any closer to the meat. He continued to growl low in his throat. She grabbed his harness and pulled him away, not letting go of him until they were both inside, both panting.

  She gave him a dog treat. “Good boy, Maverick.” She patted his head, relieved that she’d been able to get him away from the suspicious meat. Damn, now she needed to go out and dispose of it. She poured some kibble into his bowl and filled his water before leaving the house to retrieve the square plastic container. She tied it in a plastic shopping bag and dumped it into the trash can.

  Who would have put food in a container in her backyard, especially under a bush? Maybe she should have it tested. She retrieved the plastic bag, putting it into a styrofoam cooler she found in the garage. She put the cooler in
the trunk of her car.

  The next step was to call the vet. She got a recording and left a message and her number. She kept checking on Maverick, looking for signs of illness during the ten minutes it took for Dr. Waring to call her back.

  MJ pulled herself together to explain what had happened.

  “Is he acting sick at all?” Dr. Waring asked.

  “Not really. What should I look for?”

  “The signs will be different, depending on what the underlying poison is, but sometimes, the first sign you’ll see is drooling, vomiting, or diarrhea. There may be excessive thirst. He might seem dull and act abnormally. If there’s liver failure, he might become too weak to stand. Watch for signs of jaundice; you know, where his eyes or gums seem yellow. Are you seeing anything like that?”

  “No, he’s staying close to me, but he seems to be himself. I don’t know if he ate any of it, or licked any of it. It didn’t look like it, but I’m not sure.”

  “Why don’t you monitor him for the next hour? If you see any signs that concern you, call me back, and I’ll meet you at the office to look at him.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Feeling somewhat better, MJ hung up and called the Malinois over to take a closer look. He came right away and gave her a doggy smile as he sat down next to her. She petted him. He looked okay, but what did she know? She wished Rob was here.

  She let out a sigh. Rob wasn’t here, so she needed to handle this. He wouldn’t be around forever. She had to learn to take care of her dog. If only she knew if the meat was poisoned.

  Her next phone call was to her brother Nick. “Hey. I need your help. I just found a container with ground beef hidden under the bush at the back of my yard. I don’t know how it got there, and I’m worried someone poisoned it. Luckily, Maverick’s growling clued me in. It doesn’t look like he ate any of it, but I just don’t know. I called the vet, and she told me what to look for. God, I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him! Trevor trusted me.” She couldn’t help letting out the sob that had settled in the back of her throat.