Battle Tested. Laura Scott

they were situated at the front of the crowd, he shielded his eyes from the sun with his hands, scanning the sky for the plane. There! A surge of excitement hit hard, although he told himself not to get his hopes up too high.

      It wasn’t that long ago that he’d stood in this exact same spot waiting for another plane supposedly bringing Beacon home. Only it hadn’t been Beacon on the plane, but some other K-9. He’d suffered a relapse that night, despairing over the possibility of never seeing Beacon again.

      At least this time, Vanessa was with him. He glanced over at her, amazed at what a difference it made to have someone supporting him.

      He enjoyed spending time with her. She was easy to be around. Not nearly as demanding as Amber had been, or maybe he was just in a better place now than he had been back then. Considering he’d only first met Vanessa less than twenty-four hours ago, it was crazy how much he’d come to depend on her.

      Only as a friend, he reminded himself. Once he had Beacon home, he wouldn’t need this weird connection he seemed to have with her.

      As the sound of the plane engine grew louder, his heart beat faster with anticipation. The C-130 Hercules aircraft used for transporting troops emerged from the clouds, approaching the runway.

      When the wheels hit the tarmac, he realized he was holding his breath and clutching Vanessa’s hand tightly in his. He released her with an apologetic smile.

      She rested her hand in a reassuring gesture on his arm. The C-130 coasted to a stop, then angled toward the hangar.

      He couldn’t stop himself from taking several steps forward, urging Vanessa along with him as they separated themselves from the crowd.

      The cargo door in the rear of the plane opened and a short runway ramp was lowered to the ground. A man wearing his battle dress uniform emerged first, holding a leash, then he caught a glimpse of the familiar black-and-gold German shepherd.

      Beacon!

      He must have shouted the dog’s name out loud because the crowd burst into spontaneous applause.

      The dog stood still for a moment, nose quivering. The animal must have picked up his scent, because he abruptly wheeled toward him, ears perked forward as if in recognition.

      “Come, Beacon,” he said, taking a step forward to meet the dog who’d saved his life.

      The loud crack of a gunshot rang out.

      The entire area erupted into panicked chaos. The airman holding Beacon’s leash yanked the dog hard, diving for shelter as people began running and screaming, dropping to the ground and desperately seeking cover.

      Vanessa pulled him down beside her. “Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.

      “I think so.” He was numb from shock, but checked himself for signs of injury. No blood? Good sign. Thankfully, he didn’t see any injuries on Vanessa or Tango, either. “I have to get to Beacon.”

      He tried to pull away from her, but she hung on with steely determination. “No, you might put the dog in danger.”

      The possibility made him sick to his stomach. Was Boyd really out there shooting at them? Why would Beacon have been the target? It didn’t make any sense for Boyd to come after the dog.

      What in the world was going on?