Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series (8 page)

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize for that,” she said. “You have your own work to do. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” she heard herself say.

Curtis made a sound of disgust. “I told you we shouldn’t have told her,” he said to Rusty.

Realizing they’d discussed keeping her in the dark about the incident, her anger flared without warning.

“Of course you had to tell me,” she said, staring hard at her son. Then she turned to Rusty. “How do we know the dog won’t bite him in the face next time or on the hand?” she asked him.

“He won’t bite me again,” Curtis insisted.

“I didn’t ask you, honey. I asked Mr. Kuzinsky.”

Rusty just looked at her, his dark eyes troubled. “Why don’t you call me later and we’ll talk about it,” he suggested quietly.

His mature and reasonable reply made her feel childish.

“Of course,” she agreed. But she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have the words to reassure her that her son was perfectly safe. Clearly the dog was more dangerous than he’d believed, or he would never have brought in a teenage boy to play with it in the first place—right?

Recalling her purchases, she gestured to the bags now splayed across the picnic table. “Here’s all the stuff on your list. I found the trash bin,” she added, pulling it out of the bag to show off her accomplishment in finding it. “Is this about right?”

He mustered a smile for her. “Yes, it’s perfect. Thank you.” There was so much formality in his tone that her heart fell. As far as he was concerned, Curtis wouldn’t be coming back, which meant their potential date this weekend was probably on the chopping block, as well.

“Well, I’d better get Curtis home,” she said.

Curtis divided a puzzled gaze between the two adults but held his tongue.

Rusty reached into his back pocket and pulled out several bills and handed them to Curtis. “Here you go, son. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maya bit her tongue against the same protest as the day before. It seemed like too much for just watching a dog, but, in this case, Curtis had earned that money today—and then some.

“I’ll call you,” she promised, heading toward her car.

There was no giddy feeling in her stomach like there’d been twenty-four hours earlier. As far as she could tell, Rusty considered their arrangement over. At the corner of the house, she glanced back to see him squatting beside the dog, petting him absently and staring out into the marsh. Draco gave a whine as Curtis turned the corner.

What was
he
sad about? The damn dog had ruined everything.

*

A
S SHE’D DONE
the previous evening, Maya dialed Rusty’s number at quarter to eight. A queasy feeling usurped the anticipation she’d felt when calling him the night before. She sat on her bed, glancing briefly up at Ian’s portrait, before looking away.

Surely Rusty understood that her first priority was her son’s welfare. And recalling the finality in his voice that day, he had probably already guessed she would want to keep Curtis away from Draco from now on. After all, what guarantee could he give that the dog wouldn’t bite Curtis again? And next time the ramifications could be worse. A bite to the face could leave her son permanently disfigured.

On the other hand, without the dog to watch, Curtis would be home alone, with a potential arms smuggler watching her house and brooding over the possibility that he might soon go to jail.

More than that, an end to Curtis’s dog-sitting translated to an end to any potential romance between her and Rusty. She’d like to unlink the two entirely so that she didn’t end up putting Curtis at risk just to satisfy her desire to get to know Rusty better. But if she
did
unlink them, then the bonfire on the beach might never transpire, and she was looking forward to it—more than she wanted to admit.

Without an excuse to visit Rusty’s farmhouse and with their lives so busy, they’d never see each other again. She’d continue her solitary existence indefinitely.

Until last autumn, that option had been fine with her. Meeting Rusty for the first time had awakened her dormant spirit. Suddenly, ten years of solitude struck her as an awfully long time to be alone. Here she was, still in her thirties. Why shouldn’t she get another shot at forever?

If she only knew Rusty’s intentions. Given all the distractions with the dog and the upcoming arrival of his visitors, he might prefer to stay single and unencumbered.

His phone rang and rang, suggesting that was probably the case. Or maybe he just wished to avoid a less-than-pleasant conversation. Unprepared to leave a message—so much depended on his responses—she hung up, opting to try again later.

Leaving the phone on her dresser, she went to check on Curtis.

To her surprise, he wasn’t toggling a controller in an attempt to obliterate space aliens or enemy combatants. Instead, he was sitting at his desk, reading off a website. The photos on the page told her he was researching dogs of the same breed as Draco.

“What are you doing?” she asked, coming to stand behind him.

“These Belgian Malinois are amazing dogs,” he said with zeal. “They’re the most fearless dogs in the world, bred for protection for centuries as protectors. They’ll even jump out of airplanes at high altitudes wearing an oxygen mask. How cool is that?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep. Right here, see?” He showed her a picture of a dog like Draco wearing a harness and a face mask, fur flying as he plummeted through the air in the arms of an operative with a parachute.

“They’re like secret weapons, these dogs. Terrorists are deathly afraid of them.” He read her a paragraph brimming with accounts of lives saved as dogs detected hidden explosives and ammunition caches. “Draco must be bored out of his mind after doing all this stuff.”

Hearing the pride and awe in Curtis’s voice, Maya felt her concerns give way to a different feeling. Something like gratitude uplifted her. Suddenly her son, whose life had revolved around the latest PS4 release, was interested in a real-world phenomenon—keeping operatives safe from terrorists. In just two days, and despite having been bitten, Curtis was all about this crazy dog.

“You really don’t think Draco will bite you again?” she asked, revealing her main concern.

He craned his neck to look up at her. “I know he won’t,” he said with conviction. “He knew the minute it happened what he did. I saw it in his eyes. Please, Mom, I want to go back. And it’s not about the money either. That dog needs me right now.”

His words rocked her back on her heels. The dog needed Curtis, and Curtis needed the dog. She ought to give them both another chance. But what about Rusty, who hadn’t answered her phone call? His tone earlier that day had suggested his realization that the liabilities involved weren’t worth his time or his money.

“Can I go back tomorrow?” Curtis pressed.

“I don’t know, honey. I haven’t gotten through to Rusty yet.”

“Well, try again.”

She ruffled his hair. “All right. I’ll try again.”

Curtis went back to his monitor. “Let me know what he says,” he called as she walked away.

Returning to her bedroom downstairs, Maya picked up her phone to see if Rusty had called her back. He hadn’t. Heaving an uncertain sigh, she thought for a moment about what she should say, then she dialed his number, ready to leave a message this time.

*

A
T SHORTLY AFTER
midnight, Rusty collapsed onto his bed with barely enough energy to crawl beneath the sheets. He patted the comforter, summoning the dog up next to him.

With Draco turning circles between his legs, Rusty suddenly remembered Maya was supposed to call him earlier that evening. Concern that he’d missed her call had him swiping his cellphone off its charger to check.

“Damn it.”

Sure enough, she’d called him—twice. He’d been too busy welcoming his guests to Never Forget Retreat to pay attention to his cellphone vibrating. And he’d remained busy right up until a minute earlier. She must have assumed he’d just blown her off.

Bracing himself for her almost-certain rejection, he accessed his voicemail. She was going to tell him Curtis couldn’t care for Draco any more. She wouldn’t even bring up their potential date on Friday night.

“Hi, Rusty, this is Maya.” Her tone, he noticed, was carefully neutral. “Curtis is doing fine. He’s actually online right now looking up Belgian Malinois, if you can believe it. I guess that dog bite didn’t put him off. In fact, he’d like to see Draco again whenever that works for you.”

Amazement had him sinking back against his pillows.

“I just remembered that your guests came in this evening,” she continued, “so you must be way too busy to pick up Curtis in the morning. If it’s okay with you, I can bring him over in the afternoon when I get off work, and he could play with the dog for an hour or so—not to get paid; just to keep the bond going.”

His heart started thumping with elation. Not only was she coming over tomorrow, but she hadn’t cancelled their Friday date!

“If that’s not okay, just let me know via text what your preference is. I know you’re really busy. Okay, so, I guess I’ll hear from you. Bye.”

He texted back so fast that he had to type his reply three times to eliminate the typos.

Great idea. See you tomorrow afternoon.

Putting his phone back on the charger, he turned off the lights and yawned hugely into the darkness.

Draco’s proximity filled him with a hankering to hold Maya close. The need to get to know her better had grown into a hungering in just a few days. If she bowed out of his life now, she would leave a void that might never be filled.

At zero three hundred hours, Rusty’s phone vibrated with Maya’s return text. Draco’s snores drowned out the sound. Rusty read the message at zero five thirty in the morning the instant he woke up, and his smile was so wide it made his cheeks hurt.

We’ll be by in the afternoon. See you around 4.

Chapter Nine

‡

F
ORGING
R
USTY’S DRIVEWAY,
Maya was struck by how lively the place looked compared to her previous visits. His property crawled with men. Some played Frisbee between the oak tree and the veranda while others peered under the hood of one of the many parked cars. Others stood on the dock out by the creek, holding fishing poles. At her approach, every man stopped what he was doing to assess whether she was friend or foe.

They were so fresh out of a war zone that their antennas were still set to high-alert. Ian had behaved the same way for the first week he was home, jumping at the least little sound. With half the men standing around bare-chested, she was glad she’d thought to change out of her work attire into shorts and a T-shirt. As she stepped out of her van, a dozen pairs of eyes skimmed over her slim, bare legs.

Through her affiliation with the Navy, she was used to being outnumbered by men, but these specimens weren’t your average Joe—they were superhuman specimens of raw strength and intelligence. Just standing about in various postures of ease, they exuded physical readiness and supreme male confidence.

“Hello,” she called to all within earshot, using just enough of her professional voice to send the message that she wasn’t there to entertain them. She added a small general wave in no specific direction.

Undaunted, their stares conveyed enough appreciation of her femininity that her skin warmed and prickled. Some answered her greeting out loud. Others sent her come-hither smiles that reminded her they hadn’t been around women in quite a long time.

But then Curtis pushed out of his side of the van, and taking stock of him, the SEALs came to conclusions about her availability and immediately looked away.

Just then Rusty strode around the corner and self-awareness swamped her again. With a look that expressed apology and a willingness to make amends, he closed the distance between them.

“Welcome back,” he said, including Curtis in his greeting. “How’s the ankle?”

“Better,” Curtis answered, looking past him. “Where’s Draco?”

Rusty grimaced. “In his crate. He’s a little freaked out right now with all the men around. When you take him out, please keep him on the lead, and don’t give him too much slack.”

Curtis nodded gravely. “Okay,” he said, hurrying toward the far side of the house with just the slightest limp. He’d followed her orders to rest his ankle all morning while she was at work.

“Thank you for coming.”

Rusty’s words and warm look assured her their date that Friday was definitely on.

He tipped his auburn head. “Come on back,” he invited, leading the way in the same direction that Curtis had taken.

At the rear of the house, still more men lobbed a volleyball back and forth over a tight, new net. One of them caught the ball so they could all turn and look at her.

Draco’s excited barks shattered the quiet. Maya could see the dog was entirely fixated on Curtis, begging the boy to set him free. Her son crouched in front of the crate, telling the dog to hush with a soothing foreign word.

Rusty called out over the dog’s noise. “Everyone, this is NCIS Special Investigator Maya Schultz and her son, Curtis.”

As men called out greetings, Maya wondered why Rusty had mentioned her title. Did he want the men to think their relationship was professional and not personal? Or did he want them keeping their distance because he meant to claim her for himself?

Seeing Curtis retrieve Draco’s long lead, she watched with worry as he went to release the dog from his crate. Surely Draco wouldn’t rush out and bite him again.

“You want to come in?” Rusty’s invitation distracted her.

But she waited until Draco emerged with a lowered head and a wagging body before turning to follow.

“Place is a mess now that the men are here,” he apologized, opening the door to the addition at the rear of the house.

Maya found herself in a huge farm-style kitchen with exposed crossbeams, a brick hearth, and lots of countertop space for prepping. To her, everything looked spic-and-span. The aroma of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches still hung in the air. A member of the hired help Rusty had mentioned was putting clean dishes back into the tall oak cabinets.