Troublemaker Read online

  Tricks was dancing around Bo, delighted they were going for a ride. The dog was delighted about everything: going, coming, mealtime, her walks, playing ball, and life in general. The only thing she hadn’t greeted with joy was the sight of him in “her” seat, and even with the offering of turkey it had taken a couple of days before she’d forgiven him enough to let him throw her ball. He was back in her good graces, though, so he said, “Why not leave Tricks with me? Do you take her into the council meetings?”

  Bo glanced worriedly at Tricks. “Usually, but the normal meetings don’t last over an hour. I don’t know about this one.”

  “Then leave her here. I can take her out and throw the ball for her, and feed her lunch if you aren’t back by then.”

  She still looked undecided. He said, “I can handle her. Is she likely to run off?”

  “No. She won’t be happy that I left without her, though.”

  “So what will she do? Throw a temper tantrum?”

  She smiled at that. “No, but—once she stops pouting, just explain to her that I had to go to town and I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

  He must have looked incredulous—this was a dog they were talking about, not a kid, and this was taking things pretty far even for her—because she said, “I know it sounds silly, but you know how they say a dog is about as smart as a two-year-old? She’s as smart as a four-year-old. She understands a lot of what you say.”

  She understood the speaker’s tone of voice, yeah, but most dogs did learn and respond to that. “She’ll understand she hasn’t been abandoned, and she knows time?”

  “Yes, she knows time.” Now Bo scowled at him. “Never mind. I’ll take her with me.”

  “Fine,” he said testily. “I’ll explain it to her. I promise. Now go, before you’re late.”

  She didn’t want to, he could tell, but it was concern for Tricks if the meeting ran long that settled the matter. She bent down to nuzzle the top of Tricks’s head. “You stay here this time, sweetie. You’ll be a lot more comfortable here than you will be in an old meeting room. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She straightened and left without looking back, though he could tell she wanted to. He and Tricks stood at the window watching as she left, he because he got a glimpse of her long legs when she got into the Jeep, and Tricks because she probably couldn’t believe she was being left behind.

  As the Jeep went down the driveway, Tricks whined plaintively. “It’s okay, girl,” Morgan said, bending down to stroke her. “She’ll be back before you know it.” Then, because he’d promised even though he felt like a fool for doing it, he added, “She’s got a meeting to go to that could last a long time, and she didn’t want you to have to wait if you need to take a leak, or whatever. She’ll be back, probably by lunch. I can’t imagine any of their meetings taking much time even when they’re talking about assholes.”

  Tricks whined again, then licked his cheek and trotted off to find a toy.

  He checked the news and played a game or two on the laptop before restlessly putting it aside. It was good to feel restless; when he’d been in such bad shape, he hadn’t had any interest in doing anything other than lying right where he was, but now he wanted to move.

  He did the stairs, and this time made it to number fifteen, almost to the top. He rested a bit—damn that fifteen steps could make him tired—then decided to do some light calisthenics. Stretching and gently getting his heart rate up would be a good thing. He got down on the floor and stretched, cautiously testing the limits of his stiff muscles.

  Of course the dog bounded over, thinking it was a game because he was on the floor and all but danced on top of him. He told her no a couple of times, told her to move a couple of times, then gave up. So much for her understanding almost everything that was said to her. Everyone tended to act like she was the second coming of Air Bud, but when all was said and done, she was a dog. A pretty one, he had to admit, and smart enough, but still a dog.

  He gave up on floor stretching, got to his feet, and tried putting his palms flat on the floor to stretch his hamstrings. His hamstrings did fine. His lower back, though, seized in a spasm that almost put him on his knees.

  Spitting out curses between his teeth, he managed to straighten. Shit! The muscle spasm eased, and he stood there for a minute while he got his breath back, furious at this new reminder of the sad shape he was in. Six weeks ago he’d been in top physical form, able to run and swim for miles, carry a hundred pounds on his back while trekking through all kinds of miserable shit, and still kick ass in a firefight.

  He might never be in that kind of shape again. He had to face the fact that he could be looking at a new reality. The docs had repaired him, but the human body wasn’t like a car, you couldn’t slap a new piece of sheet metal in place and call it done. His heart might never be as strong again. He wouldn’t know unless he worked his ass off trying to get to that point. What if he couldn’t do it, though?

  He’d quit the GO-Teams, then what. All the guys’ lives depended on each man being able to do his job. He wouldn’t jeopardize any of them because of his ego, because he couldn’t let go. He could probably still be involved, maybe in training, maybe logistics, but if he wasn’t a hundred percent he wouldn’t go back out on a job.

  Tricks got her tennis ball and came to stand in front of him. She put a paw on his knee, then looked at the door.

  “Time for a pee break, huh? Okay, let’s go.”

  She pranced to the door. She never just walked anywhere, like normal dogs. It was as if she knew how pretty she was, and that the world as Bo Maran had structured it revolved around her. “Spoiled brat,” he muttered, but then he smiled because yeah, he remembered her riding in the back of the pickup with a green bow stuck on her head, woofing like a homecoming queen—if homecoming queens woofed, that is.

  They stepped outside and she dropped the ball at his feet, then took off running. Morgan bent to pick up the ball, and the muscle spasm knifed him in the back again. He cussed and groaned and gradually managed to get upright again, though sweat was running down his temples. Fuck, that hurt! It wasn’t the all-consuming pain of being shot and the following surgery, but it was sharp and paralyzing in its intensity. He wasn’t sure he could even walk right now. He took a few deep breaths, willing the pain away.

  Tricks trotted back to him, an accusing expression on her face.

  Bo had insisted that the dog understood most of what people said. What the hell; it was bullshit, of course, but—“Tricks, I hurt my back and I can’t bend down. If you want me to throw your ball, you’ll have to put it in my hand.”

  She pounced on the ball like a cat, picked it up, and nosed it into his palm before taking off at a run again.

  He stood there, stunned. No. Fucking. Way. It was a coincidence. She stopped when the ball didn’t bounce in front of her the way she liked and looked back at him. He didn’t dare try twisting his torso to throw overhand but he gave it a good underhand toss so it bounced in front of her, and she caught it on the first bounce. She stopped, posed, and he rolled his eyes even as he said, “Good girl.”

  She brought the ball back and put it in his hand. He tossed it, she brought it back and put it in his hand. She did it a fourth time.

  He was so astonished he forgot about his back and strolled toward the woods with her. As long as he kept his pace slow and even, as long as he didn’t twist, he was fine. He tossed the ball, and Tricks brought it back. That wasn’t coincidence; he’d never seen her do it before, she’d always dropped the ball at the feet of the person she’d chosen to honor. But she put the ball in his hand every single time after he told her what he wanted.

  Eventually she got tired, stopped to pee. He was tired too, and his back was aching so he said, “Let’s go, girl,” and they headed back inside. A glance at the clock told him it was almost time for her lunch, as if her standing beside her bowls and staring at him wasn’t clue enough. In case he didn’t get the hint, she looked at the bowls, then