The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen

with Felicity’s safety without extra protection.

      A deep scowl created lines along Patrick’s forehead. “I don’t like dogs.”

      As if he understood the words, Dakota bared his teeth in a snarl and lunged at Patrick, sending him stumbling backward with horror on his face.

       TWELVE

      “Dakota, no!” Felicity’s heart slammed against her chest. What was going on? She’d never seen the dog go into attack mode without provocation. The only times she’d witnessed Dakota’s true fierceness was in demonstrations where Westley or one of the other trainers wore a padded bite suit. She hurried across the room to stand in front of her uncle. She held a hand to Dakota. “Stop!”

      Westley reeled in Dakota and grabbed his collar, holding back the snapping and snarling dog.

      “Stand off! Heel!” Westley commanded in a loud tone that reverberated through the apartment.

      Dakota slowly complied and sat, but his intense focus was trained on Patrick. His teeth were still bared but he’d quieted down to a low, ominous growl.

      “Put that away!” Westley said, his gaze on something over Felicity’s shoulder.

      She whirled to find her uncle holding his service weapon in shaky hands. Thankfully the barrel was aimed at the floor.

      “Get that beast out of here or I’ll shoot it!” Uncle Patrick yelled. Sweat gleamed on his forehead.

      “Whoa.” Felicity held up both hands, now needing to protect Dakota. “Uncle Patrick, lower the weapon. Westley will take Dakota back to his kennel.”

      Uncle Patrick didn’t seem to hear her. His fear-filled gaze was on Dakota.

      Afraid the situation would careen even further out of control, Felicity faced Westley. “Take him back to the center.”

      “Felicity—” Westley warned, even as he tugged on Dakota’s leash, forcing the dog to retreat into the hallway. Felicity hurried to the door. She closed it to a crack, her gaze on Westley. “I’ll be fine.”

      “I shouldn’t be leaving you.”

      “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. He’s my uncle, after all.”

      “I’ll check on you after I get Dakota settled.” He shook his head. “I don’t get what got him so riled up.”

      “He must sense Uncle Patrick’s animosity toward dogs,” she said. Why else would Dakota go into full attack mode?

      Westley nodded but he was clearly perplexed and upset by the situation. So was she. They trained for these variables. They couldn’t have an unpredictable dog in the program. She only hoped this was an anomaly and not a new pattern of behavior for the German shepherd.

      She shut the door and leaned against it. Her pulse galloped along her veins. She took several calming breaths, glad to see her uncle had set the gun on the dining-room table. He crossed to the bar and poured himself a tumbler of amber liquid. He held up the glass. “Want a drink?”

      She shook her head. “No. Thank you.” She blew out a breath. “I’m not sure what got into Dakota. He’s not like that normally.”

      “Mongrel beast should be put down,” Uncle Patrick growled.

      “No!” The thought of Dakota being euthanized because he’d thought he’d been protecting her nearly made her knees buckle.

      Patrick downed his drink in one long swallow then poured himself another and moved to sit on the couch. “I hate dogs.”

      Trying to understand the virulence in Patrick’s voice, she moved to sit across from him. “Mom told me you had a horrible experience with a dog once. What happened?”

      Patrick leaned his head back against the couch and stared off as if remembering. “When we were kids, your mom and I would get off the school bus in the neighborhood before ours because it was quicker to walk home across the Moselys’ field than wait a half an hour for the bus to circle around to our house. Mr. Mosely kept the field mowed but that spring he’d died and the field became overgrown. Still, we made a path through the tall grass and weeds.” He sipped from his drink.

      “One day a large mutt charged through the grass, barking and snarling.” He shuddered and took another drink. “He belonged to Mr. Mosely’s adult son.”

      “How old were you?”

      He glanced at her. “Ten. Your mom was eight. She was a couple feet ahead of me on the path. I yelled for her to run but she froze.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I still can see her standing there. The look of terror on her face. That dog closing in on her. I reacted. I pushed her out of the way in the nick of time.” He lifted his pant leg to reveal his calf muscle. “They’re faint now, but I carry the scars of that dog’s teeth.”

      She winced. No wonder her uncle had freaked out at Dakota’s behavior. Felicity’s heart hurt for her uncle and her mother. She could imagine the horror the two children experienced. “You saved Mom. You were a hero.”

      Patrick snorted. “Yeah. That’s what everyone said. It didn’t make the pain or the fear or the nightmares go away.”

      She could relate to lingering fear and nightmares. “I’m sorry. If I had known, we wouldn’t have brought Dakota over.”

      He swirled the last of his drink before gulping it down. “Just keep the beast away from me.”

      “I will.” She stood and picked up her bags by the front door. She needed to freshen up and have a moment alone. “Where shall I put my things?”

      He waved toward a short hallway. “You can take the bedroom. On the right. Bath to the left. I’ll sleep out here on the couch. And the master sergeant can use a bedroll when he returns.”

      She carried her bag to the bedroom and sank onto the edge of the bed. Propping her elbows on her knees, she dropped her head into her hands. Life had become a roller coaster. She was ready to jump off and be on even ground.

      Her cell phone rang. She fished it from her pocket.

      “Hey, you okay?” Westley’s deep voice filled her head.

      Relaxing back on to the bed, she replied, “Yes. Boy, oh, boy. What a day.” She told him about the dog attack her uncle had suffered as a child.

      “That explains your uncle’s reaction, but not Dakota’s. I’ve asked Dr. Roark to take a look at him when he has a free moment to make sure there’s nothing medically wrong.”

      She sat up. “Oh, I hope that’s not it.” Or maybe she did hope so because then they could treat him. “Is Dakota calm now?”

      “Not really. He hasn’t been aggressive at all but he can’t seem to focus and he keeps pacing back and forth in his kennel. Frankly I’m afraid to leave him until Dr. Roark can take a look at him. He did not want to leave your uncle’s apartment complex. I practically had to drag him to the vehicle and then had to pick him up and put him in because he wouldn’t jump in himself.”

      “That’s so weird. There’s no need for you to return here tonight. Stay with Dakota.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yes, I’m safe here.”

      “Before I forget to tell you, Rusty found Riff and brought him in.”

      Her heart lifted. “That’s good news.”

      A photo album on the bottom shelf of the bedside table caught her attention. She took it from the shelf and set it on the bed.

      “On another note, I have a security company coming tomorrow morning to arm your house. Once they have the system in place you can return home.”

      “That’s