Halo would admit to himself as the team fell into line—him respectfully at the back of the pack—that he was anxious to get to Max. He didn’t like that he wasn’t the one caring for his dog. However, part of his Iniquus contract stipulated that there would be times that—for training or other reasons—they might be working apart with Max kenneling under vet supervision at Cerberus.

  The care Max would receive there was world-class. But that didn’t make this easier on Halo.

  Max was a phenomenal dog and the first dog that Halo owned outside of his childhood family life. He’d never had a dog that he got to train himself from the beginning, shaping and supporting, deeply bonding with the K9 so that they were in sync, reading each other’s minds.

  When you handle K9s for the special forces, the kennel masters match the K9’s skills with the needs of the unit and the personality of the handler. Halo had gotten along with most of the doggos. With some, they begrudgingly put up with each other. But they were brothers on the battlefield, and those K9 brothers belonged to the military. Halo always knew he’d be saying goodbye when the needs of his Commando team changed. It hurt like hell every bleeding time. It was one of the major downsides to Halo’s chosen profession.

  So when he came upon Max at the shelter in Halo’s last days as a special operator for the Australian military, Halo finally had a working dog partner that was his. And the pencil-pushing numbers-crunchers, without an iota of understanding of what reassignments did to both man and beast, would have no say.

  Since then, Max and he had bonded tightly. They were two parts of a whole, Halo thought as he jogged through the airport parking lot.

  That run had gone fast.

  The wait at baggage claim went slow.

  Finally, a stream of people moved through the doors, and one of them, standing head and shoulders above the others, was Nutsbe.

  As he approached with his pack slung over one shoulder, Halo was glad to see that Nutsbe maintained the proper handler position with Max on a loose lead.

  Max looked none the worse for wear. He had slept through the long leg of the flight from D.C. to Amsterdam after the Cerberus vet, Dani, prescribed a sleeping pill for him. But he’d not been medicated for the shorter flight to Tallinn.

  The passengers ambled by the first baggage conveyor, where another plane gathered their belongings. One of the women tucked her long auburn hair behind her ear and squatted down to the side of Max. She didn’t call or entice. She didn’t hold out a hand for Max to sniff her. She did nothing that would attract Max’s attention. Just got down and looked.

  Max danced to the end of his leash toward her. He flipped his head to catch Halo’s gaze and then back to the woman, whining his desire to go meet her.

  That’s when the woman stood and looked Halo’s way, mouthing “sorry.” Offering a contrite smile and a little finger wave, then turning and quickly walking away.

  While Max continued to walk along with Nutsbe, his attention was on that woman until she moved through the doors.

  Halo was proud that Max hadn’t missed a step, even with the distraction.

  With tactical K9s—just like with any other deadly weapon—there were rules, including a safe and proper handoff. So Halo swallowed his impatience, waiting for Nutsbe to put Max in a sit, then hand over the lead and step away.

  Halo lowered to one knee, getting low to receive copious Max kisses. Max circled in Halo’s arms, whimpering, whole body quivering, and tail wagging furiously. “I missed you, too. Hey, what was up with that women? Huh? They have treats in their pockets? Did she smell like she had a girl dog that you’d like to meet?”

  Max spun around and positioned himself between Halo’s knees to get a good rub while Halo looked up at Nutsbe. “You two do okay on the flight?”

  “On the leg to Amsterdam, Max snored and passed gas, so I was buying drinks for everyone around me. It seemed to smooth things over. The snores were kind of cute, the gas not so much.”

  Halo grinned down at Max. “Sounds like you were good and relaxed.”

  Titus pulled an Iniquus suitcase for Nutsbe and one for Max off the belt. “We just need the crate, and we’ll get a cab.”

  “Did you all get out to the bog yesterday?” Nutsbe asked as Halo stood, signaling Max to a down-stay.

  “We did,” Thorn said. “Our guide was knowledgeable and professional. She went through a laundry list of things that could go wrong on the bog. Everything from flying reindeer to wolves. We’re going to need to get plans together in advance, ones that comply with Estonian laws.”

  “All right,” Nutsbe shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be glad to hear about them.”

  “I think some of the situations need to be tested out,” Halo said. “Titus gave me permission to go out with Max tomorrow and play around with some scenarios. I want to try some of the survival techniques Marilin mentioned. See how we do without the expert there to talk us through.”

  “She’d be there with the executives on their tour, right?” Nutsbe asked, his gaze on the conveyor belt and the rotating garden of colorful luggage.

  “Do we want to depend on her as the sole expert?” Gage asked. “What if someone were to fall behind to look at something interesting?”

  “Want to come with me,” Halo asked Nutsbe. “Or are you going to be busy with your own list?”

  “I usually don’t turn down opportunities,” Nutsbe turned to Halo, “but there are certain things I’ll take a pass on. I’m thinking that strapping the bog shoes to my prosthetic legs might not be the best choice.”

  “Yeah, sorry, mate, I wasn’t thinking that one through.”

  “And you shouldn’t.” Nutsbe focused back on the carousel, watching for the dog crate. “I want every opportunity presented to me so I can make the decision. No need to exclude me on the off chance that I might be offended. I’m not.”

  “Well enough. Will do. Seriously, though, thank you for taking good care of Maxi on the way over.”

  “All’s good.”

  Once the passengers had their bags and the carousel came to a stop, Nutsbe’s phone pinged. Turning to Titus, he said. “I just got an alert that the crate didn’t make it onto this flight. It’s on the incoming. The staff will deliver it to our hotel in the next three hours.”

  “We’re good then?” Titus asked. “Let’s roll.”

  ***

  Split between two taxis, both vehicles were at a standstill as a construction crew maneuvered heavy machinery toward a gaping hole in the road.

  The driver in Halo’s car opened his palms. “It is sometimes like this. They are trying to fix the roads, but when they dig down, there are ancient ruins. The ruins must be protected, and then the roads must go back over. It is a long process. It will be years like this. But not for us.” He sent a smile toward Titus. “For us, the inconvenience is another ten minutes.”

  Titus handed over a credit card. “We’re going to walk the last couple of blocks. Thank you.” Card swiped, the driver got out to pull their rucks from the trunk.

  Seeing that, the other half of the team got out of their taxi, as well.

  “We’re walking?” Nutsbe called forward.

  “That’s the plan,” Titus said, reaching for his pack and pulling it over his shoulders.

  As the team moved to the sidewalk, Max had his nose in the air, chuffing in some ambient scent. That wasn’t a typical Max move. Halo sniffed too to see if there was something obvious, but Halo had that sad human nose, while Max was a sniffing machine.

  Titus looked down at Max’s posture. “Something’s up.”

  “Yeah.” What, though, Halo hadn’t a clue. “Dunno, mate. This is his ‘mission ready’ stance.”

  Suddenly, Max stopped and caught Halo’s gaze, his whole body rigid with concentration.

  “He’s locked onto something,” Halo said. “What’s up, Maxi? Something you want to show me?” Halo turned to Titus. “I’m curious what this is. I’d like to check it out.”

  A scream wrenched their attention up the street.

  “Go. Go. Go.” Titus said, his hand over his head, blading toward the woman’s shriek.

  The team was in motion.

  “Show me, Max.” Halo took point, the team falling in behind him.

  As they pounded down the pavement, the people flowed out of their way, clearing the route.

  Up ahead, men’s voices raised, yelling in the frantic way that happens as a catastrophe unfolds.

  The team rounded an enormous wall into the old district. Many of the buildings had been there since the 13th century. On this road, it looked like they had additional modern stories on top of the ancient buildings.

  Oily smoke billowed black clouds billowed from one of the top windows.

  “On the enclosed balcony, one female and two pre-school-aged children,” Nutsbe called out. With his binoculars raised, he scanned across the floor and into the four corners so no one was overlooked. “No pets.”

  Appraising the architecture and the space between the windows, it was going to be a tough go. An extraction would have to happen from the exterior. Without firefighter equipment, no one was getting through the interior blaze. Halo tipped his head and focused on the traffic sounds. No sirens sliced the air, letting them know a ladder was on its way. And there was no time to waste.

  Those around them saw the Iniquus uniforms, their packs, and possibly even their size and assumed the team had the ability to make the rescue.

  The crowd of faces, all painted with horror, looked upward where the trapped woman was swinging a café chair like a hatchet, chopping at the glass.

  The roof above the victims opened with a volcano of sparks. Flames licked skyward. Halo watched as the glass enclosure filled with smoke, clouding the family behind the density.

  That mother was desperate for air.

  She needed it. Her children needed it.

  But the same air that would preserve their lives, even for a short time more, would also feed that fire. It would roar stronger and hotter with the increased oxygen.

  It was one of those terrible no-choice moments when you had to do the wrong thing to have any hope of survival. There was no way to breathe or be rescued until that glass broke.

  “Get everyone clear,” Titus yelled. “When the glass gives, the shards will rain down on everyone below.”

  The team spread their arms and pressed the people back. The citizens quickly got the idea and complied. With the people well out of the way, Panther Force positioned under the balcony. Max was in a down-stay up against the wall, Halo curving his body protectively over his dog.

  With a massive crash, the glass gave way.

  The chair flew through the air, hitting the cobbled street and bouncing high again from the sheer velocity.

  The glass twinkled down like an ice storm.

  Coming out from under the protection of the overhang, Halo locked eyes on the little kids as they clung to the bars, pressing their faces through, gasping. Halo would guess the boys were three, maybe four years old.

  “I’m going to take the pole up.” Titus curved toward the flagpole. “And see if I can’t throw her a line to feed through the bars and have the woman throw it back to me. Then I can swing my way over.” He reached for Nutsbe’s binoculars and scanned the situation. “That ledge outside of the bars looks like it's wide enough to get my feet squarely in place. I’ll use the bolt cutters to open the bars enough to get them out. Kids are coming first. I’ll need more rope.”

  They each reached into their pack and grabbed their climb kit.

  Titus popped magnetic comms buds into his ear canals and slid the pressure mic over his head and under his shirt. The team did the same.

  Titus pointed at Nutsbe.

  Nutsbe reached for his radio. “Nutsbe. Comms check One. Two. Three.”

  Pressing his sternal button, he responded, “Titus. Loud and clear.”

  Nutsbe gave him a thumbs up, and Titus was moving.

  Shoving two extra coils of webbing into the net pockets on the sides of his rucksack, tightening the pack on his back, Titus stepped forward, dragging on the tactical gloves with the grip material on the palm and thumbs that helped operators stick when they fast roped into a situation. Pinching the pole between his boots, he dragged himself upward, hand over hand. He’d made it past the second window, shimmying toward the family when Nutsbe used the radio to call him back down. The farther up the pole Titus scrambled, the more his weight made the base tip out of the ground. Titus looked up and down then over to the window frame on the building, assessed, then slid to the ground.

  There was nothing for him to do but abandon that route.

  Halo could see the woman. She was pushing and pulling at the safety bars, trying to bend them to the side. Even with adrenaline, she wasn’t going to succeed.

  The historic high ceilings made the distance between the windows taller than the men could reach. The one benefit that Halo could see from this architecture was that the windows were recessed about ten inches into the wall. It gave a pretty good ledge to stand on and wall space on either side for bracing.

  Up Titus went to the first ledge. Bending his knee into a lunge, he signaled to Thorn. Thorn moved up beside their leader, placing his foot on Titus’s thigh. As Thorn reached for the next sill, Titus gripped Thorn’s leg and shoved upward.

  Thorn had to do a muscle up—a pull-up that moves past the chin to get the hips on the bar, or in this case, the sill. He threw his leg up and, pressing his hands into the wall, gained his equilibrium and signaled to Gage.

  That was going to work. With Nutsbe managing from the road, they would have enough men to get to the window below the balcony.

  Hell of a rescue, though. A circus act with no net below.

  Gage was up, pressing his boot onto Titus’s thigh. Thorn squeezed to the side to give his brother as much room to maneuver as possible.

  Halo gave Max a reminder sit-stay signal, then caught Nutsbe’s gaze. Nutsbe’s nod conveyed he’d watch out for Max. And now, Halo was moving up beside Titus, pressing his weight into his hands on either side of the window, balancing his foot on Titus’s knee.

  As Halo dragged himself up to the second ledge, he also had to push away any distracting thoughts that wriggled around in the back of his brain.

  He was going to act as if they were superhuman and the team could make this save.

  But Halo knew that because of that overhang, barring a miracle, there was no way they could get to this family in time to save them.

  Chapter Ten

  September Fourth

  Tallinn, Estonia

  The first flight to Tallinn that morning had departed at six o’clock, and Mary was still uber-jetlagged.

  Having wrestled her way through another sleepless, restless night, she was a might cranky today.

  Sure, she’d gone along with Mrs. V.’s directives to get here on the very first flight. Mary figured this was still Deidre’s adventure. She was paying for all of it. Why put up a fight? “Yeah, fine, I’ll spend my birthday in Tallinn.” It was either that or a lifetime of Deidre speculating “what if.” This was easier.

  And why the heck not? Mary hadn’t even planned on any kind of travel this week. She hadn’t planned anything for her birthday except maybe her boys might send her a text: Happy Birthday with maybe a cake emoji.

  Probably not.

  Mary was going to try very hard not to feel punished. They were young. They hadn’t a clue how their behavior impacted her. Heck, they thought of her as “Mom,” and somehow that made her sub-human. Mary had been through those days. Days when anything parental felt burdensome and forced. She’d grown past that stage just in time for her to tell her parents how much she appreciated them before their unexpectedly early deaths, one, then a few months later, the other.

  Still, she’d never understand how she went from sitting on the floor in their room every single night, holding their hands until her fingers were bloodless and numb, providing a sense of safety, stability, and love only to become a nuisance in their lives, a burden, perhaps a source of mild guilt if they didn’t do some perfunctory special occasion contact.

  Yup. It hurt like nothing else in her life had ever hurt before.

  It hurt like a bruised sole that she had no choice but to keep walking on, reinjuring with every step that she tried to take forward.

  Bruised sole—bruised soul. Yeah, I see what you did there. Yup, that’s about right.

  “You are lonely,” Mrs. V. had said. She wasn’t, not on the surface. On the surface, she felt fine. But peeking just under that top layer, yeah, it was kind of spongy. Damn Mrs. V. for saying that out loud and forcing Mary to look at it. There were some holes. Some more tender than others. Some outright ached.

  Maybe a dog?

  A warm cuddle buddy.

  Another being who would meet her at the door and be happy instead of making her feel like an inconvenience. Like she was something to be managed and sometimes placated, but basically unwelcome.

  I need to get off this loop. It stings.

  But that was how her brain had spent the entire flight from Geneva to Tallinn.

  At the airport that morning, Mary had seen the most precious Malinois in his little working dog vest. They’d locked eyes, and Mary had thought, Oh! I want to pet you. And give you treats. And cuddle up with you.

  As she’d thought her love thoughts, he’d pulled on his lead, trying to get to her.

  Instantly, Mary thought about the deer she’d called to her with her high-pitched voice. And immediately, she knew that even sending out those You’re gorgeous; I want to snuggle you thoughts must have shown up in her posture, and he was down with it.

  She was distracting him from his work.

  Mary had sent a mouthed apology to the guy who looked like he might be the handler, waiting for his dog to get to him. She’d given him a little wave, then turned her back. But she’d taken a mental picture. Wow. Mary reached out and squeezed Deidre’s arm, widened her eyes, and tipped her head back to give her friend a direction to look so she could see him, too.