He’d waited in the shadows to observe as long as he dared, figuring a man and a dog caught the eye much more readily among normal pedestrians. Taking a moment now to be sure they hadn’t been watched on approach could make the difference between bringing Lyn home and none of them getting out of there at all.
Atlas had settled down to wait next to Cruz, the big dog’s shoulder barely touching Cruz’s left leg in a heel position to keep Cruz’s strong-side clear. Atlas’s behavior was sliding more into the working attitude he’d been trained to adopt when out on a mission. No suspicious movement in or around the warehouse and no sign of anyone coming to investigate either of them.
Both of them were embracing old habits better suited to action than to civilian life.
In situations like this, Cruz wasn’t going to regret it. Of course, he hadn’t missed the hurry-up-and-wait aspect. Moving at the right moment was key. But recognizing the difference between patience and paranoia became better with practice and got rusty with disuse. His timing had to be on point today.
He proceeded forward, keeping to cover as much as possible and taking calculated glimpses of the warehouse and its surroundings. The more he was able to see of it, the more likely someone was going to be able to spot him. Taking a full circuit around the building from a distance gave him a chance to choose his entrance and determine whether there were eyes on it.
Atlas paused suddenly—rigid stance, his head up and weight forward—the dog’s attention directly ahead of them. His big ears had swiveled forward, catching sound too faint for Cruz to hear yet. Atlas had detected another human approaching, blocks away from normal foot traffic. The only people wandering this area were the ones he was looking for or predators of the streets. Based on information from Evans, accurate thus far, it was more likely to be one of a couple of guards on the perimeter of the warehouse area.
Taking on a guard alone would be a challenge. If the other man spotted him approaching, an alarm could be sounded before Cruz could subdue him. A one-on-one, straight fight would take too long and potentially leave Cruz damaged. He couldn’t afford to take every guard head on, by himself.
But Atlas was too fresh from overseas, the dog’s rehabilitation incomplete. Atlas hadn’t yet been retrained to bite to break instead of his fiercer combat training, bite to kill. Here, on US soil, Cruz didn’t want to risk Atlas killing a man.
Torn, Cruz looked down at the dog, considering. Atlas gazed back up at him, waiting for a command. What he saw in the dog’s eyes wasn’t the ready eagerness of 100 percent obedience. Here, now, Atlas was waiting to see what he would do.
Lyn’s safety, possibly her life, hung in the balance and trust had to begin with trust. There wasn’t time to wait for human backup and he had a partner right here with him, if he could time things right. Take the lead in this partnership and make himself understood.
Dropping Atlas’s leash, Cruz crouched low and murmured a command he’d never taught Lyn to use with Atlas. “Reviere.”
Atlas sprang forward and streaked around the corner. Cruz darted to the left and around stacked crates, listening as he did. Moving as quickly and safely as possible to circle around, Cruz pied the next corner in order to give himself a chance to bring his weapon to bear and got his eyes on the target as Atlas came around on the other side.
It was the perfect opening and critical moment. Cruz charged forward as the other man began to lift his weapon to take aim on Atlas, oblivious to the danger from behind. Before the man could fire, Cruz threw his left arm around the man’s neck in a choke hold and brought up his right arm to throw off the man’s aim.
Atlas streaked across the remaining distance and leaped up, taking the man’s right arm in his jaws. The man dropped his weapon as the dog’s momentum took them all to the ground in a nearly silent struggle. But Cruz’s choke hold was tight and in moments the other man’s struggles weakened as his air supply was cut off.
A dog like Atlas could exert something close to triple the bite strength of a human. Once the other man began to go slack, it was time to stop the dog before he broke the man’s forearm.
“Los.” Cruz scowled when Atlas didn’t release the man. The dog wasn’t throwing his head back and forth to rip and tear, but Atlas wasn’t letting go either. Cruz stared into Atlas’s eyes, refusing to let go of the man between them.
Atlas stared back.
Cruz set his jaw and it wasn’t anger but determination that filled him. Drove him. There wasn’t time for this. Lyn didn’t have time for this. “Los.”
Something changed in Atlas’s stare. The challenge in his eyes flickered out, a decision made, and the big dog released the man.
Laying the poor bastard down on the pavement, Cruz reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few zip ties to bind and some duct tape to cover the man’s mouth. Securing any guards as he took them out was better than having them come after him again if they came to. And he didn’t plan to kill if he didn’t have to.
Picking up Atlas’s lead, Cruz straightened and ran his hand along Atlas’s flank. “Braafy.”