Page 9 of Sheltering Instinct

Conroy grinned widely. He knew that had made an impression. And first impressions were sticky. For the rest of their inspection, if Casper made a mistake, there would be a psychological effect that would tempt the team into making excuses for Casper and tamp down the concerns.

Pete stood tall with a big old grin brightening his face; he extended his hand for a shake, then quickly pulled back. “Sweat and slobber, gentlemen. I’ll have to make do with a howdy.”

Conroy introduced Reaper first; he’d obviously concluded Reaper was the most important member of the decision-making team. Then came Goose, deemed second-most important since he was the vet who would give a thumbs up or down on Casper’s health.

These were hundred-thousand-dollar decisions.

There was no way Cerberus could take on a dog that wasn’t in prime shape.

Lastly, Conroy introduced Levi, though Command had told Levi that he was the ultimate decider. If Levi were anything other than an all-systems go, the sale wouldn’t take place.

Levi didn’t mind being relegated to a position of least importance. It meant that no one would pander to him, and he’d have more space and focus to come to a decision.

Sitting beside Pete, Casper eagerly waited for his next task.

Casper only had eyes for Pete and never scanned the men in the conversation circle. His nose didn’t twitch with the new scents. He had no curiosity.

Levi clocked that and would bring it up when the team sat down that night to share their impressions.

In the SEALs kennels, they trained the dogs to think. That meant they were always aware, looking, planning, and ready to execute.

Yeah, that Casper was so hyper-focused on Pete was concerning. But from Pete’s face and posture, he thought that Casper was performing to perfection. His pride wasn’t ill-placed. Casper was magnificent.

It was just a concern Levi added to the pros and cons list.

“We thought that since you’re out here,” Pete said, “I’d suit up, and we can do a takedown simulation.”

“How far was your jog before we got here?” Reaper asked Pete.

Pete dropped a hand to Casper’s head. “Ten miles.”

“How far does Casper typically run in a day?” Reaper asked.

“Fifteen in all. Some with me, some on the treadmill. Casper prefers to be outside. He gets bored on the machine, so I try to get the run in.”

“Do you run with any of the other dogs?” Reaper slid his hands into his pockets.

“Right now, Casper is my running buddy. He’s getting me ready for the New York Marathon.”

Reaper responded with a nod.

Levi lifted his chin. “Hey, Pete, back when I was in the Navy, my team didn’t have a dedicated K9 assigned just for me. I’d choose a dog from the kennel who had the skillset that best fit our operational needs. When I picked up a new dog at the kennels, I always insisted on wearing the bite suit. Hope you don’t mind, but it gives me a chance to know, up close and personal, how things might go down in the field.”

Conroy turned to Pete, and a silent conversation passed between them.

“You know what they say,” Reaper added, “don’t trust a gun you haven’t shot yourself.”

“Yup,” Conroy said, lifting a hand toward a picnic table with a dark pile resting on top. “That’s what they say.”

The men wandered over.

“Casper’s about fifty-five pounds?” Goose asked.

“That’s right.” Pete put a hand on Casper’s head.

Suited up from head to foot in the protective gear that would shield Levi to some extent, Levi moved to midfield, then signaled he was ready.

When he got the go-ahead from Pete, Levi took off running.

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