Page 9 of Fury

And he knew there was worse still to come.

* * *

LACKLAND AFB, SAN ANTONIO, TX

Should have left earlier.

Tapping his steering wheel with his thumb, Davis drove up the dirt road as quickly as he dared on his way to the MWD kennels on base. Didn’t want a run-in with the MPs, but he was also about three seconds away from being late for his meeting with Crew Gatlin.

He pulled his truck to a stop and hopped out onto the grassy area near the metal kennel buildings. The meeting with Crew would decide the fate of Davis’s former four-legged partner, and being late wasn’t going to start things out on the right foot. He jogged toward the structure they were supposed to meet at.

No doubt Crew was already waiting to discuss Fury.

Thoughts of the shepherd sent a pang of guilt through his chest. If he’d just paid attention.

Fury had healed up from his injuries but now refused to work with any other handler. The kennel master reported aggression as well. Couldn’t have that, so they’d given Davis two options: adopt Fury, or it was the end of the line for the RMWD. Adoption was the only option here.

But not by him.

Not permanently, at least. Fury had too many workable years left. Years he could spend doing important jobs. Davis couldn’t give him that. Didn’t know if he even had it in him anymore.

He just prayed Crew would go for this idea.

Just before he stepped into the building, the cell in his pocket buzzed. He slid it out. No caller ID. Whoever this was kept calling but wouldn’t leave a message. He declined the call.

Rounding the entrance, he swallowed and took a deep breath to ward off the emotion pressing against his ribs. Crew had a keen eye, and Davis didn’t want to invite questions. As predicted, Crew was already standing near one of the training fields, arms crossed, watching some of the handlers work a Dutchie.

The six-two operator turned. Nodded to him. “Davis.”

He extended a hand. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Couldn’t pass up seeing what retirement looks like.”

Defensiveness instantly flared. Davis did his best to shove it down.

Easy.

Crew frowned. “A joke. Remember those? Or have you forgotten how to laugh?”

Didn’t feel much like laughing these days. “Something like that.”

Crew assessed him for a moment. “Seriously, man.” Crew tracked his every move. Likely read the truth about the last few months with uncanny ability. “How you holding up?”

A complicated question. The answers lay in a minefield best avoided. Davis roughed a hand down his neck. “Just peachy,” he said dryly.

Dude, seriously. Pull it together before he walks and takes Fury’s only chance with him.

“Sorry. Know it’s not what you wanted. Doesn’t have to be the end either, though.” Crew folded his arms. “I know everything’s gone to pieces, but there’s a handler spot open at ABA if you want it.”

A handler? For Crew? The idea sparked, but just as quickly, he doused it. Didn’t deserve to take care of Fury anymore. Davis just needed to find the boy a job. Be on his way.

Speaking of the ninety-pound lug, he trotted onto the field with the kennel master just then. Fury jumped and twisted his large frame away from the guy’s side. Snapped at the air several times. Ignored a firm command entirely—Fury’s behavior didn’t change. The kennel master tried a lead correction, but Fury went right back to trying to break free.

“I see he’s picked up your friendly disposition,” Crew joked. “Thought you said he was ABA material.”

Leave it to Fury to, within the first five minutes, screw up Davis’s best chance at getting the beast back to work. He could be so stubborn.

Come on, bud. Pull it together. This is your chance.

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