Page 2 of Wicked Healing

Chapter 1

Erin Knoxsimply didn’t understand. Dogs loved her. Like, seriously, loved her. They would cross the street to get a scratch from her and jump fences just to be near her. Her house was the dog hangout of the neighborhood. It wasn’t exactly a talent, but definitely an affinity.

Her affinity was failing her now.

When Carolina had called her to ask her to foster the dog, she hadn’t even hesitated to say yes. Now, though…

She looked at the too-lean Malinois laying in the cage and wondered if he would actually follow through with the nasty growling he was doing. His body was tense and his black eyes solid direct. The vet’s office had muzzled the dog, but she was still cautious. She’d seen a dog break out of a muzzle once, and it hadn’t been pretty.

Wicked, a five-year old wounded Belgian Malinois Military War Dog, recently flown in from Germany, was her new foster dog. And she had a feeling he was going to live up to his name.

Taking a breath, she opened the cage door. The dog didn’t lunge for her, which she counted as a blessing. The growl intensified, though.

The uniformed Army veterinarian had assured her that he was mobile, but the dog was still lying on his side. “Come on, Wicked. Let’s get you out of here.”

He seemed to understand the word ‘out’. Laboriously, he pushed to his feet, then stood glaring at her, as if awaiting her next move. Taking her metaphorical balls in hand, Erin reached in and placed the slip lead over his head, very slowly, very carefully. The dog continued to growl, but he didn’t make any movement, just held completely still. Well, he wavered a little, but he had reason to.

Erin pulled back, out of the cage and gave the male room to move. The dog was big for a Mal, and he wouldn’t be the type to like being crowded, so she duck-walked backwards a few steps. The animal followed her out, steps wobbling as he slipped out of the cage. His head was low and he looked around, as if to see who was observing his humiliation.

Because that was how it struck Erin that he was feeling. It was like he’d been this warrior badass, and now, because he only had three legs, he’d lost his sense of being a badass.

Unfortunately, she’d seen this kind of demoralization before, and it didn’t always end well. For the most part, dogs and cats could survive easily without a leg, but they had to have the determination to do it.

She glanced up at the vet standing a few yards away. “What happened to his handler?”

The woman frowned. “All we heard was that the dog saved his life, but he was injured just as badly as Sir Wicked here. He’s still in the hospital in Bamburg, Germany, as far as we know.”

Erin frowned. When Carolina had called her she’d known that she would help out— there’d been no question— but she didn’t realize how dire the situation was. The dog was alone in the world. There had probably been some catastrophic explosion or blast or something to cause the damage and burnt hair she could see along his sides, and then he’d been separated from the man he’d come to rely on for his health and companionship.

But then, the reverse was probably true as well. Erin wondered about the soldier who was the other half of this pair.

There was a large swath of bandages around his abdomen and hips. The end of the leg that had been amputated hung in the air. It was wrapped in bright pink medical wrap. Erin was actually surprised at how much they’d left behind. It looked like he’d lost the lower part of his foot only. “Will he be eligible for a prosthetic later?”

The vet nodded, her eyes kind. “That’s why we left it that way. After a while he’ll figure out he can’t use that foot and he’ll keep it up. Bandages need changed every other day or when they get wet.”

Though she knew it was dangerous, Erin wanted to reach out to give the dog some kind of encouragement, but he was still giving her the evil eye, as if looking for a reason to chew her up and spit her out. She really and truly didn’t blame him, but she hoped he decided to pass on her tender skin. Pushing to her feet, she did one of the hardest things she’d done in a long time. She turned her back to the animal. But, at the same time, she ordered, ‘heel’.

Barely daring to breathe, she waited. There, out of the corner of her eye, she could see the dog come to her side. “Forward.”

They walked forward a few feet and she took the discharge papers and a bottle of medication from the uniformed veterinarian. Respect shone in the woman’s expression, but Erin didn’t let it detour her path. With a final nod, she headed to her vehicle in the visitor’s lot. She told Wicked to sit, then she opened the back hatch of her truck and drew out the textured ramp she used for her geriatric patients. Wicked gave her another beleaguered look, but very carefully hobbled up the ramp. He went into the large dog cage she had in the back without issue and sat and watched as she latched the door.

Erin’s heart ached for the dog. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and love on him, but she knew that would be the quickest way to alienate him. They were building the tiniest sliver of trust right now, and she could wait for him to decide to come to her.

The front gate guard gave her an odd look as they exited Joint Base San Antonio-Lackland, looking at the release papers several times, then into the back of her car, before finally waving her through. She wasn’t sure what had made him pause, but something. She’d have to look at the paperwork later. It was a long drive to Phoenix, though. They needed to get moving.

First, though…

She drove for about an hour to a dog park that she’d found on the way down. It was in a pretty little town called Vacasa. It was shaded and cool, and when she’d checked it out yesterday there had been no one there. Same today, she noted, looking around carefully. Parking the SUV she opened the passenger door behind her seat and retrieved the long lunge line she’d stowed there.

Erin had fostered more than one dog after they’d been through military quarantine or a long illness, and she knew that actually getting outside into grass and open air sometimes had an amazing effect on the animal. Moving to the back hatch she lifted the door, then settled the ramp to the edge. Wicked watched her for a long moment. Erin took it as a good sign that he no longer growled at her.

Then he growled at her.

“Listen, buddy,” she told him sternly. “I’m trying to do a nice thing for you. Cool your jets.”

The dog quieted. Unlatching the cage door, she hooked the horse line to the heavy collar he wore, then stood back to give him room to get out of the cage.

Wicked gave her a direct stare. She’d known this dog would be challenging.

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