Page 8 of K-9 Guardians

She took the lead through the maze until they landed at a nondescript door. “Brace yourself. Meeting the twins for the first time can be a little overwhelming.”

“The twins?” King didn’t get an answer before Scarlett shoved through the door. A low howl jogged his nerves as all hell broke loose. Two dark-haired Dobermans sprinted straight at him, teeth bared.

“Sit.” One word from Scarlett, and the dogs pulled up short, planting their butts on the tile. Bright pink tongues licked at sharp teeth ready to sink into whatever could fit in their mouths, and King had no trouble imagining his arm made a good chew toy in their eyes.

King eased his hand over his sidearm, keeping an eye on the devils. “What is happening? Are these monsters yours?”

“This is Gruber and his sister Hans.” Scarlett crouched, putting her face between theirs, but King couldn’t help but notice while the Dobermans kissed at her face and neck, they kept their gazes solely on him. She scratched behind their ears. “They’re defensive K9s. Any hint of a threat to me or the people in this building, they respond with force.”

“What you’re saying is, it’s their job to eat people.” King suddenly had the urge to unholster his weapon, but doing so might be seen as an act of aggression.

“Yeah.” Scarlett stood, and the Dobermans fell in line on either side of her. “I’m their trainer, so don’t piss me off.”

His throat dried. A minute later, they wound their way to the elevator after a series of lefts and rights King lost track of halfway, all the while keeping his distance from Jekyll and Hyde. Truth be told, he couldn’t tell which way was up in this place.

“How does anyone manage to navigate through the building? It all looks the same,” he asked.

“I designed it that way in case of a breach.” They stepped into the elevator car and faced off with their reflections as the doors closed. “Disorienting the enemy can be useful in times of war. That, and a few other security measures I built in.”

His stomach launched higher in his chest as gravity lost its hold during their descent into the garage. King had the instinct to reach out for Scarlett’s shoulder to steady himself, but grabbing a coworker—in any field—could land him facedown with a knee in his back. Not to mention a couple flesh wounds. He closed his eyes and breathed through the disorientation. He needed a distraction. “I take it you served.”

“Army. Security specialist.” Her voice echoed off the walls of the elevator car. Steady, reassuring. If something were to happen right now, she’d be the one to know what to do. “Twelve years, three tours and partridge in a pear tree.”

Impressive. Twelve years, though. Meant she hadn’t served a full twenty and gotten her retirement like most of the vets he worked with in the DEA.

The nausea receded as the elevator landed in the garage. He pried his eyes open before taking that first step from the car after Scarlett. The scent of gasoline infiltrated his lungs and hauled him back into the moment. He’d gone all day without eating. Any longer and his blood sugar would get the best of him. “Is that where you got the scar?”

Scarlett pulled up short, and the Dobermans followed suit. A hint of betrayal contorted her expression. Just for a moment before she wiped her face of emotion. “Don’t ask me about the scar, Agent Elsher. Not ever.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, heading for the nearest SUV. The alarm chirped as they approached, and she got behind the steering wheel without waiting for him to catch up. The dogs climbed over her lap and went straight for the cargo area at the back. As though they’d done it a thousand times before.

Every interaction they’d had since he tackled her in the morgue opposed her reaction a few seconds ago. King made his way to the passenger seat and buckled in as she navigated through the garage.

Picketers rushed to his side of the vehicle. Neon signs written with barely legible handwriting and exclamation points. Yells filtered through the tinted glass. Blinding desert sun enveloped them as they left the safety of Socorro’s headquarters, and suddenly he felt as though he’d screwed it all up. Just as he had those first couple weeks after Julien came to live with him. “I’m sorry. It was none of my business. It won’t happen again.”

The seconds ticked off one after another as they carved through the dry landscape, and King couldn’t help but wish they could go back to how it’d been before he opened his mouth. “So does this mean we’re going to be all awkward and standoffish with each other from now on?”

A whisper of that smile he’d witnessed in the conference room made an appearance and released the pressure strangling his insides. “Probably. Guess it’s a good thing this arrangement is temporary.”

He’d missed this over the past few days. Having someone to bicker with. When it came right down to it, working drug cases and chasing down leads took a toll. The things he’d seen in the field would stay with him forever, but being able to joke and laugh systematically released the darkness that accrued inside. Something he never wanted his son to see.

Adam had given him that for a while. Now King wasn’t sure what would happen.

“Why Socorro?” he asked.

Scarlett checked the rearview mirror. “What do you mean?”

“The cartel dumped my partner’s remains outside of your headquarters. Why not at his home or the DEA?” He pried his phone from his jacket pocket. Sixteen missed calls. A handful from his superior, the rest from Adam’s wife.

She deserved answers. She deserved to know the truth. He’d convinced the medical examiner he should be the one to notify Adam’s family of his death, but he’d been so caught up in going back through Eva’s case looking for a connection, he’d managed to put it off as long as possible. King wasn’t sure if the same applied to the DEA. If the media got hold of the story and broke the news first, he’d never be able to face Adam’s wife and kids again.

His thumb hovered over the screen. One tap. That was all it would take to give her the relief she needed.

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Scarlett said. “You haven’t told the family your partner was murdered.”

“I’ve tried at least a dozen times, but there’s not really a Hallmark card for that, is there? Nothing I could say that would make this any better.” King pocketed his phone. He would do it. He’d make the call. But now wasn’t the time. Not until he could assure her he’d gotten justice for Adam. Though he was sure his wasn’t the only number she’d dialed the past few hours after not getting an answer from her husband. “‘Sorry, I got your husband killed. My thoughts are with you.’”

“Just keep it simple. And mean what you say. It makes all the difference.” Scarlett turned that intense green gaze on him.

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