Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,111

anyone concerned.

But Jameson would never tire of knowing that, the moment he’d become part of The TEAM, he’d also become an uncle to all the agents’ children. Even to Alex and Kelsey’s, Lexie Rose and Bradley Patrick.

“Yes, Little A. What are you up to?” As if Jameson didn’t know.

The four-legged companion standing with Harley’s twin boy whined.

“Well, you see,” Little A replied evenly. Of the two boys, he was the calmer, more thoughtful twin. Georgie tended to be high-strung, to bounce off walls when he didn’t have anything to keep him occupied. He was more like Harley, full of nervous energy. “Daddy let me breed my dog, and I been really careful to take care of all the pups, and she had eight, but they’re getting big now, and one was too little. He’s the runt, and I hafta clean up all their poop every day, and make sure they don’t chew Mom’s shoes, cuz they really like her flipflops, and she gets really mad, and—” The kid finally inhaled a deep breath.

“Just tell him, son,” Harley interrupted quietly.

Little A must’ve turned to his dad because the direction of his voice shifted. “Well, okay, but anyway, here.” He took hold of Jameson’s right hand and pressed a leather leash into his palm. “You hafta hold on real tight because…” Big breath. “Daddy say’s I can’t keep ’em all, so I’m giving you my very best pup. He’s the runt, but he’s growing now, and he’s strong, and he’s my best friend, and I really love him, and I hope you really love him, too.”

But by then, Little A could barely speak. He was all out crying from that pure declaration of a child’s love for his best friend. A friend he was giving away.

Jameson leaned into the furry, wiggling pup at the other end of the leash. “A puppy?” he asked, blinking like a damn sissy. “For me? Are you sure?”

“Ah huh,” Little A sobbed. “He’s a purebred German Shepherd, Uncle Jameson, and he’s sable, and that makes him look like a wolf. But he’s really a good dog, and he’s just for you, cuz Daddy said maybe you could use someone to help you find your way around the streets and roads and sidewalks, and—” The little guy hiccupped. “He’s real good at finding things.”

That was the last straw. Jameson opened his arms, and Little A plowed into him, bumping his chin with his head and crying at this very brave, very hard thing he was doing. The pup scrambled up with him, and suddenly, Jameson had two kids in his arms.

“He must be a very good dog,” Jameson murmured into Little A’s sweaty head, as he corralled the bundle of puppy energy in his other arm.

“He is. He’s my bestest favorite, but I want you to have him because he’s brave like you, only…” Harley’s son took a deep, shuddering breath. “Kin I come and visit him sometime? And you, too?”

By then Jameson could barely speak. Settling the pup to the floor between his shoes, he shifted Little A to his knee, and swallowed hard. He’d purposefully avoided getting a seeing eye dog. His cane was enough of a statement to the world; he hadn’t needed another. But now…?

“You bet. Come see him anytime. What’s his name?”

“Tank. He was so teeny when he was borned, that we had to keep him in an aquarium tank under a warm light, but…” Little A’s voice muffled as he ran an arm under his nose. “You kin call him anything you want because he’s your dog now, and he’s not mine, and....”

Little A burst into tears, and Jameson was right there with him. He took a covert swipe at his eyes, then wrapped both arms around the sobbing boy on his knee and patted his back. Harley, Judy, Georgie, and Maddie were out there watching, and one of them was sniffling, too. But for now, Jameson’s attention was focused on the brave little soldier on his knee. “I like it. Tank’s a good, strong name for a dog. It’s hard giving your best friend away, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“Ah huh,” Little A grunted, as he wiped his mouth or his nose again. It was hard to tell which. “But I gotta do it, cuz that’s why these dogs are borned in the first place. They got important things to do, too. Like Daddy and Mommy. Like you. They gotta amount to something or I’m not a good dog owner, only