“I’ll take you home.” Brandon stepped into her peripheral vision on the other side of the bed. He must have slipped around behind the bed, still managing to be right at the head and within easy reach.
Sophie looked up at him and smiled. “I’m fine. You don’t need to go through the trouble.”
Honestly, having him take her home would’ve been wonderful if it’d been for other reasons. She might have a few choice daydreams about it, but she didn’t want it to be because he felt obligated to take care of her.
His eyes narrowed, and a crease formed between his brows. “You’re not. And it’s not trouble. You help us out at the kennels all the time. Me taking you home is easy.”
“It’s not necessary,” Sophie insisted. “I’m perfectly fine getting home on my own, and I don’t want to make this into a big thing.”
If it’d been Lyn, David would’ve been allowed to help. If it’d been Elisa, then Alex would’ve wrapped her in a hug and convinced her to let him help.
But this was Brandon. They weren’t a thing. She wasn’t going to let herself even start to believe his taking care of her was anything other than friendship.
Brandon Forte’s friendship was important to her, and she wasn’t going to let her bruised heart make this into anything more than what it was.
Chapter Three
Forte stepped out of Sophie’s hospital room, Haydn close at his heels. The hallway was clear. Cruz and Rojas sat waiting for him at the end where he’d stood watch earlier in the afternoon. This time, with his two partners there to help keep an eye on the approaches, he slouched into one of the armchairs in the small waiting area.
Damn. There’d been days when he’d been deployed where he’d gone out knowing he or any of his unit might not return to base. A day could start out peacefully and go to hell in a cascade of explosions and gunfire.
But today. Here. He’d almost lost her.
The relief of seeing her safe and whole, blinking those chocolate-brown eyes at him, was enough to leave him shaking. She just meant so damned much to him.
“Today was unexpected.” He didn’t need a response, but both men standing by grunted an agreement.
Rojas had Souze with him, the handsome black-and-tan German Shepherd Dog sitting next to his chair wearing a service dog vest. Souze had become Rojas’s service dog, helping to control and ease Rojas’s post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms. Cruz had Atlas with him almost as much but not today. Atlas was a working dog, not a service dog. They tried to respect the appropriate time and place for the dogs in public situations, no matter how well trained they were.
“Sophie didn’t ask to see the boys?” Rojas sounded worried.
Normally, she would’ve asked after both dogs when she hadn’t seen them. Rojas had ordered Souze to wait outside when it’d become clear the hospital room was going to be too crowded for two aggressive dogs, and Haydn had already been inside the room.
Forte shook his head. “She will the next time she sees one of us for sure. She’s still shaking off the effects of the bomb.”
Cruz grunted again, this time an angry sound. “Not something anyone just shakes off.”
Forte nodded. Truth.
Finally seated, with people he trusted around him, Forte let some of the weariness take over. Aches and pains from his own exposure to the explosive shock wave throbbed in a dull, steady beat. They’d get worse over the next couple of days, but he’d deal. The doctor had given him a once-over, too.
The three of them might look calm, and they were maintaining the quiet, easy tones of a relaxed conversation, but every one of them was scanning their immediate area. A similar emotion to what Forte felt burned in Rojas’s gaze and in the set of Cruz’s jaw. They were all on edge, angry.
Even with the investigation led by Ky, there was no way any of them were going to sit around waiting to see if anything else happened. They were going to plan and execute on what they planned. It was just a question of what, when, and whether they could rest up enough to be prepared. Forte gave Haydn the command to lie down in a low voice, and the dog obeyed with a groan.
Rojas studied the dog. “Should we take him back to the kennels to get some down time?”
“Probably.” The question had layers to it, the opening for deciding what the next steps were without being obvious to idle listeners that might walk by at a given moment. Forte didn’t want to send Haydn away, though. He’d checked the big dog over, and Haydn had come out of the whole thing in better shape than he and Sophie.
“He’s doing real well with this hospital environment, though. You might want to keep him with you if you’re going to stay here.” Cruz lifted his chin to indicate the whole building. Because there was a need. They all recognized it. An IED, a bomb, in a car wasn’t a random act. Not here. Maybe if this had happened in DC or some other major city, but not in a riverside town with a big-city feel. “The other dogs in training aren’t as seasoned. Haydn’s your best partner for the moment.”