The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen

and pretty. “You have criteria?”

      She smiled faintly. “Yes. I want sparks,” she said. “I want to be loved as I am. I want to share my faith as well as my life with the man I give my heart to.”

      “Those sound reasonable,” he murmured. He wondered if she felt the sparks that he did whenever they were together. Probably not.

      It was best not to let himself put too much stock in his attraction to the lovely sergeant. Their situation was temporary. They both had jobs to do. And when the killers—Boyd and the person who murdered her father—were arrested and locked away, Westley and Felicity would return to the training center and life would resume as before. And if he kept telling himself that eventually he’d make it happen.

      She peered at him with curiosity shining in her eyes. “What about you?”

      He should have expected the question. His stomach twisted. “Marriage isn’t something I plan on tackling.”

      She frowned. “Why not?”

      How could he explain he was afraid his father and mother’s pattern of behavior would somehow play out in his life? That he wouldn’t ever risk letting anyone close enough to find out?

      The door to the photo lab opened and Commander Lieutenant General Hall walked in, saving Westley from replying. Westley and Felicity snapped to attention and saluted.

      Lieutenant General Hall returned the salute. “At ease.”

      Relaxing, Westley moved aside to allow the lieutenant general to address Felicity.

      “I see you’re settling in,” Lieutenant General Hall commented.

      “Just starting to, sir,” she said.

      “You know your assignment?”

      “Take as many photos as possible all over base in the hope I capture Boyd’s image,” she replied. “Or his interest.”

      Westley’s gut clenched at her words. He’d be with her, by her side to protect her, but it didn’t make stomaching the fact that she was being dangled out like a piece of squid to hook a shark any more appealing.

      Lieutenant General Hall clapped her on the shoulder. “You’ve got heart, Staff Sergeant Monroe. Your father would be very proud of you.”

      Surprise marched across her face before her expression softened. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”

      Westley wondered why she always appeared amazed when anyone mentioned her father’s pride in her.

      “Sir, I’d like to carry a service weapon,” Felicity said.

      Lieutenant General Hall frowned. “Only Security Forces personnel are allowed to carry on base. It would raise too many questions if the base photographer carried.”

      Westley sensed her frustration. He could appreciate her need to have a sidearm. But she would have to be content to have him and Dakota at her side.

      “Master Sergeant James,” Lieutenant General Hall said, focusing his eagle-eyed gaze on Westley. “I trust you and your dog will keep Staff Sergeant Monroe from harm?”

      Squaring his shoulders, Westley met Lieutenant General Hall with a level gaze. “Of course, sir. With our lives.”

      Westley heard Felicity’s sharp inhale but he kept his attention on Lieutenant General Hall.

      “Very good. Keep my office informed and be careful.” Lieutenant General Hall left the room.

      Once the door closed, Felicity stepped close and scrutinized him with a pinched brow. “Did you mean that?”

      He blinked, unsure what she referred to. Was she jumping back to their conversation about marriage? “Excuse me?”

      “That you’d protect me with your life?”

      Relieved by the question, he nodded. “Absolutely.”

      Looking pleased, she grabbed her camera. “Then we’d best get to it.”

      * * *

      Felicity had been the base photographer for two days and she loved it. Some of the photos would be used for PR, others for the base newsletter, website and social media.

      She loved the freedom to roam unfettered, to capture moments that might otherwise go unnoticed. Loved the joy of not having to be exacting with the lighting and the composition of the shots, but rather catching unposed, unscripted action shots of airmen going about their day, or contemplative images of the various personnel across the expanse of the base.

      And having Westley and Dakota at her side, knowing they had her back, allowed her to focus on the camera.

      They stopped at the edge of the training obstacle course, where a basic military-training unit ran through the obstacles. She adjusted the f-stop and clicked off a multitude of shots. And she knew that some were spectacular. Not all, but there would be some she’d be proud of. Over the last two days it seemed she’d taken more pictures than she had her whole life. The SD card was nearly full. They’d taken a few breaks to eat lunch, to let Dakota rest and to use the facilities. Soon they would stop for the day and head back to base command.

      A gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes. Her braid had completely fallen apart over an hour ago, so she’d tied her hair back with a rubber band, but the ends were still giving her grief in the Texas breeze.

      “Here. Hold this.” She handed her camera to Westley so she could free up her hands. Then she adjusted the strap of her camera bag across her body into a more comfortable position.

      After securing her hair into a bun at her nape, she took the camera back and lifted the lens to her eye, clicking through more shots. Something in the background moved in the woods beyond the young airmen. She zoomed in.

      A tan dog peeked out from around the trunk of a tree. Her heart rate ticked up. “Westley, there’s a Belgian about forty meters straight out behind the tree with the crooked top.”

      She handed him the camera so he could use the lens to see what she had. “Niko.”

      Taking the camera back, she said, “You should go get him.”

      “We’ll go get him,” he countered. “Come on.”

      Inordinately pleased by his inclusion of her even though she knew he simply wanted her near for her safety, she jogged with him and Dakota to the wooded area that made up the back part of the base.

      Westley whistled, catching the dog’s attention. “Niko. Come.”

      The dog hesitated. Felicity was afraid the dog would bolt. From her camera bag she grabbed the banana she’d taken from the commissary at lunch. She unpeeled the fruit and then broke off a piece. Holding it in her hand so that it was visible to the dog, she dangled it low against her thigh. “Come. Treat.”

      Niko’s nose twitched, then he was loping toward her, clearly wanting the offered banana. As soon as his mouth touched the fruit, Westley grabbed Niko’s collar.

      Westley met her gaze. “Well done.”

      She blinked. For a moment her old defenses rose, making her wonder if he was mocking her after the tirade she’d heaped on his head about being stingy with his praise, but his expression was open and his approval appeared genuine. She grinned. “Thank you.”

      Westley threaded Dakota’s lead through Niko’s collar so the two dogs were tied together. “Let’s get this guy to the vet and make sure he’s okay.”

      They loaded the dogs into Westley’s vehicle and drove to the other side of the base. The vet checked out the dog and declared him slightly dehydrated but otherwise in good health. Felicity was thankful. She worried about the remaining missing dogs and prayed they would be found soon.

      “They’ll start making their way back. Just like Niko did,” Westley told her as if he sensed her anxious thoughts.

      Strange