The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen

she? By finding a suitable male role model for her son while he was young and impressionable, she could help him mature into a far better man than her brother ever thought of being.

      So who’s a good candidate? It didn’t take a heartbeat for her to picture Linc Colson. Except I’m never getting married again, she insisted. Never, never, never. Freddy can have mentors without her marrying them. Besides, limiting his exposure to one man was too exclusive. He needed to meet lots of strong, honest, sensible yet gentle men.

      And there it was again. The image of Linc burning brightly in her thoughts and memories.

      Logic intruded to dampen her mood like a summer thunderstorm in the dry Texas hills. Colson was only hanging around because he had orders to. Now that he’d been through trials with her, seen her looking her worst and had his dog injured to boot, she’d be the last woman he’d be able to look at romantically, even if she so desired.

      Which I do not, Zoe insisted, hoping that stating the obvious would help her accept it. If she ever did decide to remarry, she knew she would choose a man a lot like Linc. Except with a more trusting nature, she added quickly. She might have a ton of baggage left over from childhood, but Colson wasn’t empty-handed either. They were both toting enough excess to fill the cargo hold of a C-130.

      Little feet pattered. Freddy ran to her as soon as she entered his room. He tugged on her skirt. Zoe bent down. “What, honey?”

      “I’m hungry.”

      “I know you are, Freddy. What do you say we go out for breakfast today?”

      “Why?”

      “Um, because the house is a mess and there are lots of people here.”

      “I saw. They made me stay in my room.” He brightened. “You can make pancakes for them, too!”

      “No, thanks.” Zoe helped him put on socks and shoes, then lifted him into her arms. “We can stop and buy breakfast on the way to see Miss Maisy at day care, okay? You can order whatever you want.”

      “Where’s Star?”

      Zoe had been hoping he wouldn’t ask, but she wasn’t going to lie to him. “Star got a little boo-boo so she’s at the doctor’s.”

      “Will he give her a shot?” The child’s fearful expression was so comical she almost laughed.

      “I don’t know, honey, but if she does get a shot, I’m sure she’ll take it like a good airman.”

      “Yeah. She’s real brave.”

      Braver than I am sometimes, Zoe thought with chagrin. While she’d been standing there feeling sorry for herself and inadvertently distracting Sergeant Colson, that amazing K-9 was chasing down whoever had messed with her. If she were authorized, she’d award Star a medal.

      Even though the blood wasn’t real.

      * * *

      At the Military Working Dog Training Center, in the veterinary hospital wing that was an integral part of the installation, Linc’s injured rottweiler lay stretched out on a steel table in an exam room. She was conscious and panting but not her usual energetic self.

      Linc hovered in the background while Captain Kyle Roark, DVM and head of Canine Veterinary Services at CAFB, went over Star, wet black nose to stubby tail. One young female tech dressed in blue scrubs stood by, waiting for orders while another was preparing a gurney.

      “I’ve given your dog a mild sedative and painkiller,” Roark said, turning a sympathetic gaze toward Linc. “Her overall condition is good, but her respirations are a little fast and shallow.” He was using a light but firm touch to examine Star’s body. “I don’t feel any broken bones, but I’m going to have Airman Fielding take her down to X-ray to make sure her ribs aren’t cracked. Why don’t you come with me and get a cup of coffee while we wait for the results of the films?”

      “I thought they were digital these days.”

      Roark chuckled. “They are. It’s an old habit to refer to plates and actual film.” He stripped off latex gloves and dropped them in a refuse bin before taking Linc by the arm and steering him out of the exam room.

      “I should stay with Star,” Linc said. “She needs me.”

      “What she needs is rest, which I will see she gets while she’s here. Don’t worry. My people know what they’re doing. Fielding may look young and afraid of her own shadow sometimes but she knows her job and does it well. You need to back off and settle down before your dog picks up your nervous vibes and gets upset herself.”

      Although Linc walked the hallway with the doctor, his heart remained with his K-9. “It’s all my fault,” he said solemnly when they reached the break room. “I stopped to check on a human victim and let Star go on alone. I should have stayed with her until we’d apprehended the suspect.”

      “Not if you thought you had a victim at the scene already. You know the dogs are trained to bite and hold on. The fact that Star took a couple of hits before he stunned her and escaped proves how good that training is.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with my dog,” Linc said, grimacing. “It’s my training that needs refreshing.”

      The dark-haired veterinarian chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’s going to recover. The X-rays are just to be on the safe side. If it is cracked ribs, it’s nothing life-threatening.”

      “If I ever catch up to the lowlife who kicked her, there’ll be something life-threatening for him. Me.”

      “Spoken like a dedicated K-9 handler.” The vet approached a coffee urn and slipped two Styrofoam cups off the stack, handing one to Linc. “Help yourself. Creamer and sugar are over there.”

      “Thanks. I didn’t get my usual shot of caffeine this morning.” He filled his cup. “I was planning to have coffee with Sergeant Sullivan.”

      “I gather there’s a big mess over there?”

      “Yeah.” Linc was shaking his head as he followed Roark to a small table, plopped into a folding chair and wrapped both hands around his steaming cup. “I thought the sergeant had been cut to pieces when I first saw her.” He suppressed a shudder.

      “So I understand.” The captain’s dark gaze narrowed on the sergeant. “What’s the deal with you and her, anyway?”

      “Sullivan? Nothing special. Master Sergeant James ordered me to stick close and see what I can learn by finessing information out of her.”

      “Uh-huh.” Folding his muscular arms across an equally strong chest, Roark began to grin. “You sticking with that story?”

      “It’s true.”

      “Right. And I’m the commander in chief.” His expression of good humor softened. “There’s nothing wrong with two sergeants becoming involved. At least you’re not breaking any rules if you decide to date her.”

      “It’s not like that. I’m just taking most of the daytime watches so she’ll get comfortable with me and open up.” He made a face into his coffee cup instead of looking at the captain. “I have decided she’s not hiding info about her brother.”

      “So you trust her?”

      “Enough. She’s got a little boy. I don’t think she’d do anything that might put him in jeopardy.” A flash of pain crossed the vet’s face so briefly that if Linc had not been looking straight at him he would have missed seeing it. “Hey, sorry, Captain. I wasn’t thinking.”

      Roark shrugged nonchalantly, but Linc wasn’t fooled. The memory had hurt. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.”

      Knowing that the man had lost both his wife and a young daughter—and during the Christmas season to boot—Linc decided to change the subject. “What’s