Especially when some of the work he needed to do with Atlas went beyond the dog’s recovery and more into what had happened to his handler. He didn’t need some consultant tangling things up.
“Agreed. No worries from this angle.” Beckhorn sighed. “Let me follow the audit trail and figure out what officer brought her in. Atlas is a high profile dog. Between the news spot and the articles published about him, the military is going to spare no expense to do right by him. But it also means others are going to want to make doubly sure Atlas has the best care out there. I’m surprised you don’t have half a dozen consultants from various military offices and a few choice senators pounding at your door.”
“This isn’t about news coverage.” Cruz tried to keep the growl out of his voice. “It’s about giving Atlas what he needs to recover from where he’s been.”
And what he’s lost.
Some people might not give a dog credit for emotions, but Cruz had seen dogs exhibit unfailing loyalty and selfless courage in the face of danger for the sake of their handlers. They experienced emotions. They loved. Deeply.
Atlas had seen awful things. Hell, so had they all. But Atlas had lost his handler—his partner—a man the dog had given his everything to. The dog deserved some sort of peace for the rest of his days if Cruz could help him. And Atlas’s handler deserved to have the truth behind his death exposed, if anyone could find it.
“Based on your twenty-four-hour report, Atlas hasn’t improved much.” Beckhorn cleared his throat. “Not expecting you to work miracles, but one of those would help your case in working with the dog solo.”
“I’m not going to rush the dog.” Cruz stood up and began to pace, irritated. Oh, not with Beckhorn, but with higher ups always convinced throwing more resources at a problem would lead to faster results. “He’ll come around in his own time. I’m letting him get to know me and the facilities here. Not as structured as a military base, not as chaotic as a normal home.”
“What are you going to do with the consultant?” Beckhorn tended to choke on the last word, but then, he had a thing about private contractors. Miss Jones might be different, but then again, she might not.
“I’ll give it some thought.” And he wasn’t committing to anything. High-ranking sponsors from DC or no, if Atlas didn’t like her, Miss Jones was out the door.
And it was about time to address the way she was lurking on the other side of his.
*
The door opened so fast under Lyn’s hands, she pitched forward before she could catch her balance. She came up against a hard, very well-muscled chest.
Smooth, poised, graceful even. All things she wished she’d managed but definitely was not.
He wrapped big hands around her upper arms and set her back on her own feet. Cheeks burning, she forced herself to look up into his face. His brows were drawn close over his steel-blue eyes in the most intimidating scowl she’d ever encountered. No sense in fumbling for excuses. “I figured giving in to my curiosity about whatever you were doing was better than succumbing to the urge to go meet Atlas.”
A noncommittal grunt was his only reply.
Good. Because she was fresh out of ideas for how to recover the professional manner she’d strapped on this morning as armor. She fussed with her suit, straightening the fabric and brushing away imaginary dust, as if setting her clothes to rights would bring back her confidence.
“For what it’s worth, the doors around here are surprisingly soundproof.” It would be the closest she’d admit to having pressed right up against the door trying to hear something, anything to give her a clue as to whether this man would cooperate today or if she’d have to escalate back up to her sponsor, the man who’d signed her contract, her employer. Thinking of the man in those terms made her grit her teeth.
And she wanted to talk to him like she needed a hole in the head.
David Cruz quirked his very sexy mouth in a half-smile. “Good to know. Maybe I’ll cancel the order on the white noise generators for the offices.”
Lyn blinked. “Overkill for a kennel, isn’t it?”
His dark eyes fixed her in a somber stare. “We’ve all learned here to be prepared for every conceivable situation. It’s kept the people, and some of the older dogs, alive when others didn’t make it. We like to keep up the practice.”