Page 162 of Mission Shift

I patted his massive head. “Good boy.”

Then I stood, rubbing my sore knuckles, and walked toward the alley’s opening. The dog stuck close beside me. When we reached Braxton and Nikolai, he stepped between them and me and let out a low growl.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “He’s protective. I like him.”

“Daria…” Braxton started, clearly unsure. The dog let out a louder growl.

I shot out a command in German: “Zurück.”

The dog immediately stopped growling and sat at my side again like a statue.

I looked at Braxton. “He’s coming with us.”

“What?! We can’t just take some random dog from—”

I held up a hand. “I found you alone in a blown-out house in the middle of a war zone. Didn’t stop me then.”

He blinked, giving me a blank look.

“My mother used to bring home strays,” I said softly. “Always said we’re supposed to help those no one else will. Guess that stuck.”

Braxton didn’t speak.

“I blew my cover, wrecked my mission, and crossed half of Eastern Europe to save one stray American Boy Scout who was too stubborn to shut up and too good to leave behind. This dog? Same story.”

I glanced down at the cane corso. “Except he’s probably easier to train.”

Nikolai burst out laughing—an honest, deep belly laugh.

Braxton mock frowned. “I should be offended.”

“Nooo, you should be happy I have a soft spot for strays,” I said.

The dog’s ears perked up, and his head swung back and forth as we spoke, as if he was following every word.

Nikolai scrubbed a hand over his chin. “A dog like that might come in handy, especially now that Valentina seems to be throwing her lot in with Alexey and his Bratva.”

Braxton sighed. “Fine. He comes.”

The dog huffed like he understood.

Nikolai checked his watch. “All right, you three. Let’s get moving. You’ve got a wedding to catch. I’ve got dinner with a man who might stab me with a salad fork if I play my cards wrong.”

I scratched behind the dog’s ears. “What do you think? Think Tacoma sounds like a good place to live?”

The dog made a happy little whine and licked my wrist once.

“Smart boy,” I murmured. “Let’s go find a new home.”

I glanced over and caught a shift in Braxton’s expression.

His mouth tightened, and his eyes seemed to focus somewhere distant. It was that quiet, storm-brewing kind of serious that didn’t show up often—but when it did, it meant something.

He stepped toward Nikolai and motioned him aside.

They angled away from me, keeping their voices low. I couldn’t catch any of what was said, but Braxton rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when something was weighing onhim. Nikolai leaned in. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes, heads close. Whatever it was, Braxton wasn’t smiling.

Then Nikolai gave him a grin—wide, mischievous. He clapped a firm hand on Braxton’s shoulder and gave it a solid squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said loudly enough for me to hear. “I’ll take care of everything.”

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