Page 89 of Surge

Surge nudged her leg, and she slid down to the floor, wrapped her arm around him.

Dad was right. She was useless when it came to the most important moments in life. Not that he’d ever said that—he was too nice to actually voice it—but how could he not think it? He’d lost his leg because of her. She’d hid instead of stopping the shooter.

Now this mission was also going to fail. Because of her. The chems were going to make it to the coffee farm.

Because of her.

She wasn’t a SEAL. She was just a girl on a train with an MWD. She reached down and scratched the Mal under the chin.

Yes, climbing into the rideshare to follow had been her choice. A maverick move, but . . .Garretthad told her to stay with the containers on the train with Surge. Her team would save her.

Except, what if Garrett was right in what he’d said yesterday? That she refused to be seen as incompetent—so she just rushed into wherever she wanted, to do whatever she wanted.

Her breath hitched.

The truth was that whenever she barged into a situation to “prove herself a hero,” what she really ended up doing wastestingGod.

Ouch.

She’d been so determined to prove herself at the middle school that she hadn’t watched—really watched—Surge. She had barged into it. The whole embarrassing public overwhelm could’ve been avoided. Her heart skipped a beat. She was bold all right. Bold forherself. Because she didn’t want to be seen as weak or afraid or . . .

Or a little girl caught in a robbery, watching her world fall apart.

She’d frozen. Because what was she supposed to do as a child? Delaney scoffed. Garrett said she’d probably saved her life, and her father’s. By freezing. Yeah, right.

Delaney, you were eight.Dad’s voice bubbled up in her memory.You couldn’t stop the shooter. But it was you in the store with me. It was your hands pressed against my gunshot like the 911 operator told you. Because of Christ.

She had forgotten he’d said that back when she was a teen, so tied up in a push to prove herself a hero—which was how she’d ended up serving community service at A Breed Apart.

The truth of that stung deep and pushed a tear down her cheek.

Surge licked the tear.

“Thanks, boy,” she whispered, burying her hands in his fur.

It was true she’d mavericked her way through life for herself. But it was not Surge, Heath, Garrett, America, or even Dad she owed an apology to. She sank her chin to her chest.

God, please forgive me. I thought I was doing Your will. But I was doing nothing more than trying to be a hero. To show off, really. To protect myself, so I didn’t have to trust You or anyone else to protect me. But Idotrust You. And I need your help.

“Situational awareness” echoed in her mind—Garrett’s voice during their self-defense training session. And it was Garrett who’d surprised her when he’d called her “bold” for taking off after Rashid and Tariq outside the Shoemakers Extraordinaire.

Garrett was bold himself, in his own way. Yeah, lots of guys had biceps and wide, strong shoulders. Bright brown eyes. But they couldn’t lead a team to stop a terrorist attack. They didn’t all laugh at a Mal chewing on their underwear. Nor were they willing to learn how to work with said Mal. Most weren’t trustworthy like Garrett.

His hands on her shoulders during that first Krav Maga self-defense lesson . . . she could still feel them. Garrett was all man.

She’d seen his strength, his confidence, his willingness to own his mistakes and apologize . . . all those things had helped her be a better version of herself. It’d helped her to stop being a rogue and instead focus on the mission. Which was how she and Surge had ended up on a bullet train with six LD3s of potassium cyanide and sulfamic acid.

Delaney scruffed Surge’s thick neck fur. When he licked her whole face, she chuckled. Then hugged him tighter, realizing how it’d all come together. Maybe it wasn’t over, and clearly she would still face the darkest battle yet, but she could see how God had orchestrated all the pieces of this puzzle to confront and stop these terrorists. First . . . a year ago, God had stirred her to not give up on Surge, who had the aggression and scent training needed for this mission. And God had let Heath not give up on her, teaching her how to train dogs and believing in her. Then word had gotten back to Garrett through a series of connections and he’d come to the ranch.

Because of all that, God’s merciful hand, she and Surge had detected the chemicals . . . gone to the market, discovered the shoes. . . now, they were here.

And Garrett was coming.

She refused to believe otherwise. Neither would she believe she was frozen. Or helpless. God was with her.

Okay, God . . . help me do what I can because of You.

She freed her hair from its ponytail, smoothed it, then put the elastic band back in.

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