Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,30

he had been doing with this fractured team he’d landed in. He was determined to see this team come together, to gel, and to become one of the tightest and strongest of the teams.

They were all elite operators, some of the very best. But the team functioned as two parts instead of a whole unit. Saint, 2-Stroke and Max were all new to the team. It took time to develop unquestionable trust that the man next to you would always have your back. And trust required holding nothing back.

Dragon and Pitbull had been carrying some hard and heavy baggage, which was compounded by the fact that neither of them was all that keen on getting close to someone new. After their teammate Justin “Speed” Myerson had been captured, then killed by Boris and Natasha Golovkin, the leaders of the brutal Kirikhanistan Rebels, the rest of their team either transferred or retired, unable to handle the fracture.

But again, to be a close-knit unit that functioned as one, there had to be close-knit ties. Both of those members had learned that lesson. The rest of them—2-Stroke, Saint, Dodger, and even his LT Fast Lane were still limping along.

He hadn’t been willing to give up on Pitbull, whom Max had butted heads with since he’d first landed in the cages with him, and he wasn’t giving up on the rest of them. They would be a hell of a team. Mad Max would settle for nothing less.

Jugs barked and Max looked down to see him keeping his eyes on another runner. Always vigilant, Max smiled. It was tricky to keep up with Jugs while working as an instructor, but a dog handler was never far from his canine. Max had been allowed to keep Jugs in his small instructor apartment in his kennel. It was close enough that when Max got a break, he could let Jugs out.

As he approached his living quarters, Instructor Hal Cheezer was crossing the compound. It was early Saturday and there would be no interaction with the trainees today and tomorrow. The fun would begin on Monday when First Phase started.

“Hey there,” Hal said as he looked down at the Malinois. “I’ve heard you are a force to be reckoned with Juggernaut.”

Jugs barked and the instructor looked at him as if for permission to interact with his dog.

Max nodded. “Jugs is secured. He has that balance between domestic dog and mad dog killer. He won’t take a chunk out of you unless I tell him to.”

The instructor laughed softly and crouched down and rubbed Jugs’s head. He pulled out a napkin from his pants pocket and Jugs went nuts.

“Bacon?”

“Yeah, saved some for him from breakfast.”

He fed the dog, and Jugs devoured the pieces with a lot of licking and chewing. “A guy just like him saved our squad. We’re lucky to have them.” He rose from his crouched position. “He’s a fine warrior, Max. Hoo-yah.”

Max agreed and headed to his room. He got Jugs his “real” breakfast and sat down with a coffee cup and his own breakfast while looking over his notes for training. His cell rang, and he reached for it, groaning softly when he saw who it was.

“Gina, my beautiful sister, what can I do for you?”

“I can’t get used to the fact that you’re close to home and that you’ll actually be able to participate in the wedding. God willing. Anyway, I haven’t gotten your RSVP, Max. Who are you bringing with you?”

“So much pressure. I don’t know.”

“You are coming without a date? Should I only prepare one meal…I need to know.”

“Is one extra meal going to be an issue?”

There was silence on the other end of the line and Max sighed.

“You aren’t taking Rhonda’s wedding seriously, are you? This isn’t a seat-of-your-pants mission, Max. This is their wedding, and we have an obligation to make it the best it can be. Put that in your Navy SEAL pipe and smoke it. I’ll expect to hear back soon about who you’re bringing. You got me?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant Gina. Got it loud and clear.”

“Good.” The call ended with a loud click in his ear, and he turned to look at Jugs who was sitting next to his chair. “I get no respect in this family. Do you think it’s because I don’t have ovaries?”

Jugs tilted his head, and Max laughed softly. Maybe he wasn’t taking Rhonda’s wedding seriously. But tuxes made his neck itch and all that pomp and circumstance seemed like a waste of