Three years later...

Kujo stood on the front porch of the log cabin, staring out at the snow-capped Rockies and scratching the beard he hadn’t bothered to shave since he’d been medically boarded out of the Army three years before.

Why bother? He wasn’t wearing the uniform, he didn’t have a job, and he didn’t even have to get out of bed in the morning.

He walked to the end of the deck and stretched in the cool mountain air. Though he’d been out of the military for a few years, he still worked out to keep his knee from stiffening. The operation to replace the torn ligaments had left him with a limp, but he refused to be a burden on anyone. So, every morning, he got his ass out of the bed and worked through the pain until he could walk. He was recovered enough he could even run again. But his knee wasn’t the same, nor was his head.

Traumatic Brain Injury sucked. For the first few months after the explosion, he’d had blinding headaches at least once a week, and sometimes more. As time had passed, the headaches had eased and he was getting around better. He’d moved from his apartment outside Ft. Bragg, North Carolina to the mountains of Colorado to get away from the crowds and his old buddies, who’d drop in to cheer him up while they felt sorry for his suffering.

God, he hated pity. So, he wasn’t in the military any more. So the fuck what. He had enough money coming in from his disability to survive. Barely. He’d been fortunate to rent this log cabin in the woods, too far off the beaten path to appeal to tourists. Without internet or cell phone coverage, not many city folk wanted to stay there. He’d worked a deal with the aging owner to live there at a very low rent as long as he fixed up the place.

He’d lived up to his end of the bargain and repaired everything that needed it, to the point he had nothing left to do. Now, he considered building a shed behind the cabin to house a four-wheeler he kept under a lean-to. He’d even dressed in a pair of jeans without holes and put on his least offensive boots for the trip into town in his old pickup.

About to step off the porch, he spotted a shiny, black four-wheel-drive Jeep climbing the rutted road up to the cabin.

Kujo frowned. He liked his privacy. When people wandered near, he gave them the stink-eye and told them they were trespassing on private property. If the look and the verbal warning didn’t work, his glare, thick beard, shaggy hair and scarred face were threatening enough to scare them off.

Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, he frowned fiercely and waited for the Jeep to come to a standstill in front of the cabin. He hoped the people would get the hell out of there quickly. He had work to do, and he wouldn’t leave the cabin while strangers wandered around the property.

As soon as the Jeep came to a halt, two men climbed out.

Kujo’s frown deepened. The sunlight bounced off the windshield, blinding him. All he could tell was that the men were big, with broad shoulders and thick thighs. They wore leather jackets and cowboy hats, and carried themselves like men with a purpose.

“You’ve come far enough,” he said, squinting against the glare. “You’re trespassing. If you’re lost, head back the way you came.”

The men drew closer, moving out of the glare from the Jeep’s windshield. They tipped their heads to stare up at where he stood on the porch.

“Kujo?” one of the men said in a familiar baritone. “Is that you?”

“Shit, dude, what the hell have you done to yourself?” the other man said.

A flood of emotions washed over Kujo. No one had called him Kujo since he’d left his unit in Afghanistan, extracted from the Afghan village on Bear’s back. From there, he’d been transported to the nearest field hospital where they’d stabilized him then shipped him to the rear and out of the area of operations to the hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. Doctors had relieved the pressure on his brain and monitored him there for a couple days, and then evacuated him stateside to Walter Reed. All the while, he hadn’t awakened. Not until the swelling subsided had he surfaced from the darkness that had claimed him. He hadn’t remembered the explosion, and he barely remembered his name.

Two weeks had passed since the operation in Afghanistan before he learned of the deaths of the women. The explosives had been remotely detonated.

Someone had to remind him that he’d been a dog handler. He’d become distraught, asking about Six and the other members of the team.

Thankfully, Bear, Duke and the others had survived. If not for the door and the walls deflecting most the explosion, they all could have died. Aside from the deaths of the females who’d been rigged with the demolitions, Kujo was the only one seriously injured. Even Six had only minor shrapnel wounds. He’d been treated and assigned a new handler.

After his knee operation and physical therapy, Kujo had seen the writing on the wall. He’d never get back to the same physical condition he’d been in before the explosion. And, because of the TBI, the Army didn’t want to risk putting him back in dangerous situations where others would rely on his mental acuity.

Thus, he’d lost his military family, his dog and his career in one fell swoop. By the time his physical therapy was complete, he had nothing left of his former life. Living near Ft. Bragg had only reminded him of all he’d lost. So, he’d packed his duffel bag, sold his furniture and left.

He’d driven all the way to Colorado before he stopped, exhausted, his knee hurting and his head aching. Up in the mountains, he felt like he could breathe again, away from his memories.

Until now.

Standing before him, on the mountain he’d come to think of as his own, were two of the best friends a man could have. Two men who had risked their lives for him on multiple occasions. He should have been happy to see them. For a moment, he felt that old joy of seeing his long-lost friends, but just as quickly the joy was gone. They were part of what he was trying so hard to forget.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice brusque.

Bear’s jaw hardened. “Because we care.”

“Do you know how hard it was to track you down?” Duke grunted. “If it weren’t for the man at the hardware store in town, we might never have found you up here.”

Kujo shrugged. “I like my privacy.”

Bear shook his head. “We all like our privacy, but this takes it to an entirely new level.”

Kujo wasn’t much for talking. “Again, why are you here?”

“We got word from your former trainer at Lackland that Six is there. He was injured in an IED explosion and has been retired from active duty,” Bear said.

“He’s up for adoption,” Duke finished.

Kujo’s gut twisted. He’d spent the past three years trying to remember the details of what happened on his last mission, and to forget about the people and the dog he’d more or less lost. He couldn’t go through that again. Forcing a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he shrugged again. “So?”

Bear glanced at Duke and back to Kujo. “We thought you’d want to know and that you might consider taking him.”

Something inside Kujo’s heart pinched so tightly that, for a moment, he thought he might be having an attack. He pressed a hand to his chest in an effort to relieve the pressure. “He was a good dog. Why wouldn’t he find a good home?”

“He’s been available for months. He’s had two foster families take him, but they couldn’t handle him and returned him. Because of his injury, he limps. No one else has stepped forward to take him. Your former trainer contacted us, thinking you might want him.”

“No.” Kujo turned and walked away. “That part of my life is over.”

“Yeah, but here’s the deal,” Duke called after him. “If you don’t take him, he’s scheduled to be put down in three days.”

Kujo whipped around. “Put down?”

Duke nodded. “He’s on death row. No one wants him, and you’re his last hope.”

“Why don’t you take him?” Kujo shot back at his former teammates.

Duke shrugged. “We don’t know how to handle him. He’s got issues. Since you left the service, he’s been through four different handlers and been injured. He’s punchy. The dog needs a stable influence.”

Bear squinted up at him. “Your trainer thinks he doesn’t trust anyone. No one sticks around.”

Kujo grimaced. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to leave Six. The dog belonged to Uncle Sam. Just like Kujo once had. The powers that be in the military had the say regarding where a soldier or a war dog went.

The Army had dropped Kujo. Now they wanted to drop Six.

His gut clenched, and his throat tightened. “I can’t,” he said.

Bear raised his brows. “So, you’re willing to let him die?”

No! But he couldn’t put his heart into another dog. The pain of loss had taken a toll on Kujo.

“Look, think about it.” Bear glanced around at the cabin. “In the meantime, are you going to invite us in?”

With all his thoughts focused on Six, Kujo stared at Bear for a moment until his words sank in. Slowly, he nodded. “It’s nice outside. You want to have a seat on the porch? I’d offer you a beer, but I’m all out. How’s coffee.”

“That would be good,” Bear agreed and stepped up onto the porch.

“I’ll take a cup, too,” Duke said, climbing up the steps. He walked to the end of the porch and stared down at the valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks. “What a view. I can see why you like it here.”

Kujo’s gaze followed Duke’s. He’d felt the peace as soon as he’d driven into the valley and up to the cabin. No other place had that effect on him at a time when he needed to calm the anger and still his jumbled thoughts.

“I’ll be back.”

He disappeared into the house, a dull ache forming at the base of his skull. He hadn’t seen familiar faces in so long, he wasn’t sure how he felt. On one hand, he was glad to see Bear and Duke. They’d been as close, if not closer, than any blood brothers could be. Yet, they brought with them all the memories he’d tried too hard to forget.

Kujo went through the motions of making coffee, while getting his shit together. A few minutes later, he emerged from the house.

“I think Hank would agree,” Bear was saying.

“Me, too.” Duke said. “Let’s do it.”

The two men had taken seats on the only two seats on the porch—rocking chairs faded from the weather, but sturdy and comfortable.

As Kujo stepped out onto the deck, carrying two steaming mugs he asked, “Do what?” He handed a mug to each of his Delta Force comrades, and then leaned against the rail, folding his arms over his chest. By their cagey looks, they’d been discussing him.

Bear sipped the hot brew then glanced up at Kujo. “What are you doing up here in the mountains?”

Kujo stiffened. Where was Bear going with his question? “I’ve been working on this cabin.”

Bear studied the structure for a moment. “I take it you don’t have a real job.”

Kujo’s back stiffened. “I take my work seriously.”

“The place looks great. How much acreage do you own with the cabin?”

Kujo’s teeth ground together. “I don’t own the cabin.”

Duke’s brows rose. “You’re working on a cabin you don’t own?”

“Yeah.” Kujo frowned. “So?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I have my medical retirement from the Army.” He pushed away from the rail, his eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”

Bear shot a glance at Duke. “We have a proposition for you.”

Kujo turned away and stared out at the mountains, willing the craggy peaks to bring him the peace he’d always expected from them. “Not interested.”

“At least hear us out before you decide,” Duke said. “Bear and I are out of the Army, too. We weren’t sure what kind of work we could do after being Delta Force. The transition was rough.”

“Until Hank Patterson offered us a job,” Bear added.

Kujo half-turned. “Who the hell is Hank Patterson?”

Bear grinned. “A SEAL who left the Navy to help his father on his ranch in Montana.”

Kujo frowned. “I don’t know anything about ranching.”

Bear arched an eyebrow. “I’m not saying you’ll be ranching.”

Duke blew on the coffee and took another sip. “Hank set up an organization in the foothills of the Crazy Mountains of Montana.”

Kujo shook his head. “I’m not interested in being a survivalist or prepper, or whatever they’re calling them now.”

Duke grinned. “No, it’s nothing like that. He started a service called Brotherhood Protectors. He hires the best of the best of former active duty military.”

“SEALs, Marines, D-Force,” Bear continued. “We provide protective services to clients who need them.”

“He’s given more than a few former fighters the chance to make a difference outside of the military.” Bear tipped his head toward Duke. “We both work for Brotherhood Protectors.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Bear leveled his gaze on Kujo. “We think you’d be a good fit for the team.”

Well, I don’t. They don’t know me anymore. Still, he couldn’t help asking, “Why me?”

“For one,” Bear said, “we don’t have any dog handlers among us. I believe there’s a need for one.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Kujo reminded them.

“You don’t have one now,” Duke corrected.

Kujo straightened. “I’m not going to adopt Six.”

Duke’s lips thinned. “That dog is a highly decorated hero, just like you. I think he could be of use to the organization.”

“But he needs someone who can handle him,” Bear added.

Duke nodded. “He needs you.”

Bear leveled a stare at Kujo. “We need you.”

Kujo held up his hands. “I’m not interested.”

“What do you have holding you here?” Bear asked.

“I have a life here,” Kujo insisted.

“Are you happy?” Duke asked.

“Who says you have to be happy?” Kujo turned away. His thoughts tumbled, his stomach roiled and his head pounded. “I just want to be left alone”

“Really?” A hand descended on his shoulder. Bear stood beside him. “You used to like to hang with the team. Have a beer. Work out with the guys. Do you really like being here? Alone?”

That hollowness he’d felt since he’d left the service had intensified. Three years on his own and all the forgetting and pushing memories to the back of his mind meant nothing. Everything seemed to flow back into his thoughts, into his head.

Memories of his buddies sitting around his apartment, drinking beer and watching football, filled his mind. The times they stood at the door to the helicopter, adrenaline flowing, ready to punch out and do their jobs in an enemy-infested landscape. Sharing the camaraderie only men who’d faced death and survived could relate to.

The hand on his shoulder seemed to burn through his shirt, the heat penetrating to that cold hard organ that used to be his heart.

Bear tucked a business card into Kujo’s shirt pocket. “Think about it, will ya?” he said. “We need men like you.”

And Kujo needed them.

The thought surfaced before he could shove it to the far reaches of his consciousness.

“And Six needs you,” Duke said. “Please, don’t let him become yet another casualty to a thankless war.”

Out of the corner of his gaze, Kujo watched Bear step down from the porch.

His former teammate said, “You have a lot to think about, so, we’ll be going now. If you want to join us for a beer, you can find us in town until eleven o’clock tomorrow when we check out of our hotel.”

Duke and Bear climbed into the Jeep and left, kicking up a trail of dust in their wake.

Kujo followed the vehicle’s progress until it disappeared through the trees.

Up until that moment, he thought he’d been holding his own pretty well and had come to grips with his new normal.

The visit from his old teammates dispelled that fallacy. As the dust settled on the mountain road, Kujo didn’t think he could feel more alone in the world. An awful, empty feeling threatened to overwhelm him. The longer he stood there, the tighter his gut clenched.

Ten minutes later, he entered the cabin and trimmed the shaggy beard, and then shaved his face clean. He packed his duffel bag with everything he’d brought with him when he’d moved into the cabin.

He didn’t think too much, just followed his gut, moving like an automaton, not willing to overthink the situation—afraid that if he did, he’d completely fall apart.

Maybe he and Six could provide some value to Hank Patterson’s Brotherhood Protectors...if the organization needed two broken-down soldiers. All he knew was Six needed him. Kujo hadn’t been able to save the female soldiers, but he could do something about saving the dog soldier.