Circle 0f Trust_K-9 Unit

by Kate Cambridge

  His brow creased as he also noticed the pronounced limp in her right leg. He'd tended enough injuries as one of the Army’s top medics to know that the limp wasn't structural, it had to have come from an injury. But it didn't seem to be slowing her down. She lunged again, but this time landed on her butt in the dirt beside one of the goats. If goats could look amused, he was pretty sure these did.

  “Ouch!” she yelped as she grabbed her left side before bolting upright, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving from the effort.

  She was a sight for sore eyes, and he couldn’t hold back the laugh as he moved forward to offer his help.

  Three

  Peyton

  Peyton yelped as she hit the ground. The goats had escaped their pen and refused to listen to reason. She'd tried being nice, but clearly, that wasn’t going to work. She’d tried corralling them, but that hadn’t worked either, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think they were enjoying this.

  Laughter coming from the trees at the edge of the field made her bolt upright. She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, leaped to her feet, biting her lip to cover a grimace. Her quick movements caused a flash of pain in her stomach and leg.

  A man was moving toward her from the direction of the woods. She reached for her gun on her hip, only to realize that it wasn't there. She had it tucked away safely in the house because she’d thought there would be no need for it here. Four Corners had a low crime rate. But apparently, it had its share of trespassers.

  “What are you doing here?” She studied him as all of her frustration boiled over into anger. How long had he stood there laughing at her? How long had this stranger been watching her without her realizing it? Fear mixed with annoyance trickled down her spine.

  “I'm passing through. Hiking.” His pace slowed, but he continued moving toward her. His pale blue eyes never leaving hers.

  “No, don't.” She raised one hand as she peered through the sunlight at him. “Don't come any closer. You're on private property.”

  “I can give you a hand with the goats if you'd like.” He took another step, not toward her, but toward the goats, despite her warning.

  “Didn't you hear me? You're on private property. I don’t need your help.” She frowned, her brow creased as she watched him take another step toward the goats. He had a dangerous look about him, from his messy dark hair to his clearly over-sunned face and panther-like grace. He didn't just walk, he prowled, and it took everything she had to keep her feet planted on the ground.

  “All you have to do is sugar them up a bit. Watch.” He walked right past her and cooed at the goats. “Hey beauties, look at you, so smart and quick on your feet.” He held out his hands to them and had the audacity to smile as one by one they walked over to him. “You don't want to cause any trouble, do you?” He stroked them on the head.

  “I don't need your help, I can handle this.” Peyton stepped up beside him and the goats immediately bolted.

  “I can see that.” He shot her a wry grin. “You were doing so well.” His eyes glistened amusement.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I would have tried harder if I'd known I had an audience.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “You have three seconds to move on or I'm calling 9-1-1.”

  He chuckled as he looked straight into her eyes and down the length of her body. She felt his scrutiny every inch of the way. “I don’t mean any trouble, but feel free if you must.”

  She stared back into his pale blue eyes. They had tiny flecks of gold in them and he didn’t seem the slightest concerned with her demands.

  “Fine, I will.” She hit 9-1-1, but her phone wouldn't respond.

  “No service out here.” He pulled out his cell phone and showed her the display. “This is God’s country.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’ve got this. Now, please go back to—wherever you came from.” Her brows drew together—she had a set of handcuffs tucked right beside her gun—inside the house. She never traveled anywhere without them, but that wasn’t going to help her right now.

  “I'm not trying to bother you. I heard yelling and thought I could offer you a helping hand, which it looks like you still need since your goats are wandering off toward the road right now.” He tipped his head in the direction of the escaping goats.

  “No! Oh no! Get back here!” She gasped, and rushed after them. It was only her first day in charge of the farm and she already felt as if she had let her sister down. She’d unlatched the gate with her hands full of feed, and the goats had taken the opportunity to flee. She'd spent the better part of two hours trying to get them back into their pen and now she was behind on everything else.

  “That’s not going to work.” he declared from a few feet behind her.

  She jumped. Her heart pounded as she looked over her shoulder at him, frustrated that he’d sneaked up on her again. He held her gaze. “You'll frighten them if you chase them. It's best to gently coax them back, otherwise, you'll be chasing them for hours… more.”

  “How do you know?” She studied him, curious.

  “I spent a couple of summers tending goats around here. Watch this.” He crouched down and dug his thick fingers into the dirt. He crumbled the dry soil between his fingers and clucked his tongue loudly.

  “What is that going to do?” She stared at him in disbelief but to her surprise, the goats turned back and began to walk toward him.

  “They think I have food for them.” He shrugged and continued to cluck his tongue. One by one the goats approached him. “Get some feed for them or they will take off again, but don’t move fast.”

  “Okay.” She acquiesced, too annoyed to argue anymore. She walked to the barn, grabbed a hand full of feed and returned to the stranger. He took it from her hand and scattered a few pieces on the ground in front of him.

  “Now, hold the rest out in your hand.” He smiled as the goats approached and began to nose through the dirt for the feed he'd dropped.

  She stretched her hand out with the feed curled in her palm.

  “Not quite.” He curled his hand around her wrist and gently lowered it, loosening her fingers so that it was just tilted enough to prevent the food from falling off onto the ground. “Be very still,” he whispered softly in her ear.

  She stopped breathing. His hand against her skin sent a tingle up her arm and through her body. Her pulse raced. She didn't normally allow a stranger to touch her, but then again, this entire situation had been anything but normal.

  “Okay, I've got it.” She nodded, dismissing him, but he continued to hold her wrist as one of the goats approached her and she didn’t dare to nudge him away lest it scare the goats.

  “Don't worry, old boy, she's not going to hurt you.” He cooed in a soothing tone that caused shivers of heat to race up and down her spine.

  She bristled at the suggestion that she was nothing to be afraid of. If only he knew.

  Four

  Jax

  The goats were skittish. Chasing and yelling at goats wasn’t the way to get them to do what you wanted them to do. They didn’t seem to be familiar with her, and it was obvious she had no idea how to handle them. Had she recently acquired them?

  He’d ignored her protests to leave and called to them with a soft voice. Personally, he wouldn’t want to raise goats, but he’d had enough experience with them during his childhood to know that the best was to draw them to you wasn’t by chasing them around the farmyard like a chicken with your head cut off.

  This woman was stubborn, and her confidence misplaced. Exasperated, he reached out and grasped her wrist to demonstrate how to get the goats to come to her. When he gently circled her wrist, he felt her shiver, and her pulse began to ratchet up. He kept his grasp gentle but firm until one of the goats began to nuzzle the feed in her hand, ignoring the heat that spread up his arm from the innocent contact, and her scent—she smelled like lavender and lemon.

  With a quickness that surprised him, she reached for the scruff of th
e goat's neck. He caught her hand with his free one right before she sunk it into the goat's fur.

  “Wait!” he cautioned, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you grab at them it won't work. You’ll end up back on your butt.”

  “I can handle this.” She jerked her hand out of his and the goat bolted again.

  “I can see that.” He raised his eyebrow as he released her and took a step back. “Animals don't respond well to coercion and it won’t help them learn to trust you.”

  “That goat just doesn't like me.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at the goat. Her expression transformed her features from delicate and pretty to fierce. She had a strength and confidence that attracted him, and stubbornness to match.

  “He doesn't trust you. Try again. Keep your movement slow and your voice soft.”

  “All right fine.” He half expected her to stomp her foot but instead, she held out more feed for the goat. The goat hesitated but made his way toward her.

  “Now give him a few minutes to get to know you. Once he's comfortable, you can start edging toward the pen, and he will follow you right in.” His kept his tone even and calm—the same one he used with the men and women he’d treated on the battlefield.

  Her muscles tensed, and she bristled, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh sure, I doubt that.” But she did as he recommended and began to back up. The goat followed her, and the remaining three followed after the first. She eased her way into the pen and Jax stepped forward to close the gate.

  “There you go.” He smiled. “Now that they’re beginning to trust you it won’t be so hard for you next time.”

  “Thanks,” she offered sheepishly. In one swift movement, she swung herself over the top of the fence and over, but when she landed pain radiated in her eyes.

  It was all he could do not to ask if she was okay. He figured her ego could only take so much of a beating in one day. Instead, he offered his hand. “I'm Jax. Jax Lawton.”

  “Peyton.” She firmly shook his hand and pulled back quickly.

  His eyes narrowed. He’d felt it, too. “I'm staying in town if you ever need any help with the goats.” He flashed her a warm smile hoping to put her at ease, but she took two steps back.

  “I'll be fine, thanks. I appreciate your help, but this is private property, so in the future please make sure you steer clear of it.” With that, she turned and walked toward the house.

  He stared after her. She opened the front door of the small house, and a German Shepherd bounded past her, heading in his direction.

  “Radar! Hier!” Peyton yelled.

  The dog slowed, looked back at her, but then raced straight for Jax.

  “It’s all right, pal.” Jax crouched down and offered his hand to the dog, palm side up, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Very few owners used Dutch commands with a K-9, and he instinctively knew this dog was either police or military—which meant she likely was, too. He also realized he shouldn’t encourage the dog to disobey his handler, but then again, she had it coming.

  The dog licked his hand when he reached him, and his hind-quarters began to wiggle. Jax smiled, then suddenly found himself back in the desert where he'd spent the last eight months of his life. He'd befriended a dog there, but unfortunately, the dog hadn't made it. He’d been blown up a week before Jax left, and saved dozens of men as a result. A lick across his face brought him back to the present.

  “Radar!” Peyton called the dog from the bottom of the porch steps. This time Radar turned and bolted back toward his owner.

  Jax noticed Peyton wince as she ran down the steps, taking Radar by his collar.

  “Are you okay?” he called out, taking a tentative step forward; his instinct to help in full force.

  “It's an old injury, nothing of concern.” She motioned for Radar to follow her up the stairs without a backward glance, letting the door slam behind her.

  She'd lied to him. He knew injuries; the way she moved, and the pain mirrored in her eyes told him that she was anything but okay.

  He shook his head—the life of a medic was behind him—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue a medical field for his future. Beyond that, she’d make it clear he was trespassing and should leave.

  “It's for the best,” He turned back toward the trail to resume his hike, but his original excitement was lost. His mind returned to Peyton. What had happened to her? Injury in the line of duty?

  Peyton had seemed angry that he'd stepped in and offered to help. She was proud. Then again, he had laughed at her. His lips turned up as he resumed a jog down the trail, recalling the sight of her chasing after the goats. She had a fiery spirit. He respected that.

  Once back the apartment, he felt the walls close in again.

  For a few moments today he had forgotten how out of control his own life felt, but in the silence, it all came rushing back. He never expected his return to Virginia to turn out the way it had. He was like a soul without an anchor.

  His mind drifted to the blonde spitfire he’d encountered this afternoon. She’d reached instinctively for a sidearm when he’d first made his approach. She seemed young to have that level of experience—the kind of experience that enabled a person to move toward a weapon without a second thought. She was proud, fit, confident—but wounded.

  He had to let it go. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a more intriguing woman, but at the moment, he couldn't risk being intrigued.

  He needed to focus on the step-by-step path that would lead him forward to some kind of purpose for his future.

  Five

  Peyton

  Peyton paced in the living room, ignoring the pain in her leg. It wasn’t all that surprising that the goats ignored her, but Radar? Nothing got under her skin more than Radar disobeying her command.

  His immediate obedience was essential to the success of their missions and their team. They had worked together for the past year, and he had quickly become a rising star in the FBI’s K-9 program. The fact that today he’s behaved like a domesticated dog rather than a well-trained K-9 worried her.

  Her mind drifted to Jax petting Radar and Radar’s big slurp across his face. She had to admit the stranger clearly had a way with animals. She also realized Radar had perfectly honed instincts when it came to people and he’d clearly liked Jax—in fact, she wasn’t sure she could remember a time that he’d ever greeted a stranger with such open acceptance.

  Maybe Jax worked with animals in some capacity? A veterinarian perhaps? He’d certainly seemed curious and even concerned about her injury. His insight made her feel vulnerable, and she bristled again at the way her traitorous body had reacted to him.

  A strange look came over him when he knelt down to pat Radar, and a deep sadness crossed his face before he’d masked it. Her heart had lurched at the sight of it. She’d wondered what happened to cause the sadness. She’d considered asking but quickly decided against it.

  He was a stranger, and she didn't want to encourage him to stay any longer than he already had, and that decision was confirmed when he inquired about her leg. Very few knew about her work with the FBI’s K-9 unit, and that’s the way she wanted it to remain. She didn’t need complications.

  She sank into a chair, rubbing her injured leg, trying to forget the embarrassing moments that had unfolded in front of Jax's watchful eyes. Radar came to her side, his tail drooped as he looked up at her.

  She sighed and gave him a resigned smile. “We're both a little out of practice, Radar, and that’s my fault. He did seem like a pretty nice guy, didn’t he, buddy?” She stroked Radar’s head between his ears. He responded by jumping up on the chair with happy kisses on her cheeks and lips.

  She shook her head. She’d been way too easy on him. She had to get a grip. She had to get back into the habit of training with him daily. She had to stay focused on her own recovery.

  She bit the corner of her lip, refusing to give space in her head to the niggling concern she felt about whether she would ready in eight short weeks
to return to active duty.

  She had to be. Failure wasn’t an option, and the FBI was her life.

  Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach. When the bullet pierced her abdomen a few short weeks ago, it had done irreparable damage to her uterus and the docs told her she would never be able to bear children. She sank further into the chair and fought the tears welling in her eyes, brushing them away hastily.

  She’d always planned to be a career FBI agent, married to her job, all this had done was cement her decision. Peyton pushed herself up from the chair and called Radar to follow.

  She worked him outside for more than an hour, then tended the goats, chickens, and horses.

  By the time she called it a night, her body ached. Her leg throbbed. Her head hurt.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, biting her lower lip, trying to quiet the anxiety and sadness gnawing at her stomach.

  She'd refused to take pain medication after the first few days of her injury. She'd read enough to be aware of the risks of addiction, and she’d seen it destroy more than one agent’s career. She’d always been able to overcome every obstacle in her life with focus and determination. She hadn’t anticipated that she’d still be dealing with this level of pain after several weeks; she wondered if she’d done the right thing by coming here.

  Peyton thought about the joy on her twin’s face when she’d bounced down those stairs toward her dream, and she knew it was the right choice.

  She pressed her hand to her stomach, the slight pressure causing a dull ache where the bullet had lodged. Tomorrow she had to tackle the bakery, take care of the farm animals, and prevent the goats from escaping before she left.