Ultimate Courage (True Heroes #2)(50)

Damn it, he’d give anything to know where his rifle had gotten to.

There’d be a fraction of a second, if he was lucky, when he broke through the door and threw himself clear. He might be able to take out one, possibly two of the people waiting for him before the others got their shots in. If they were seasoned soldiers, he was a dead man. But if they were civilians turned insurgents, he had a chance. They wouldn’t have the same firing discipline, might not be ready to take a human life. And if they didn’t shoot to kill, he would most definitely need to take them out. Because left to continue as they were, they would eventually kill someone else.

He opened his mouth, tasting the air. It was wrong somehow. The ever-present dust and dryness were absent. The sounds of vehicles driving by and the random noises of a town living in fear were off somehow.

Didn’t matter. He needed to focus on the immediate vicinity and clearing downstairs before the person he was protecting walked down into this trap. No time to radio CC. Don’t want to risk the threat hearing the click. Slow first step. Steady heel-to-toe pressure to keep the weapon steady in one hand while reaching to check belt clip for flashbangs out of habit. Never have them when needed.

Something cold nudged his hand hard, and he jumped, bringing his weapon to bear on the thing that’d snuck up on him. For several long seconds he stared at Souze down the sights of his handgun.

Souze.

The German Shepherd Dog stared back at him, dark eyes calm.

Oh God, what was he doing?

His hands trembled as he flipped the safety back on and holstered his firearm. He sucked in air as he leaned against the wall in the stairwell and sank down along it until his tailbone hit the step under his ass.

He’d had an episode. A thing. Whatever the f*ck they called it. There’d been no warning. Suddenly, he’d been back overseas and treating everything the way he would’ve if he’d still been in a combat situation. He’d had nightmares before, been caught up in memories during the day even, but nothing as bad as this.

Those people he’d heard downstairs, beyond the door, were students of the school. Advanced martial artists come to train. Some of them were amateur fighters on the circuit. One or two were professional MMA competitors, competing in the organizations based out of Philly or Atlantic City.

None of them would’ve been able to react fast enough to him bursting through the door firing a gun to survive.

It would’ve been a bloodbath.

And maybe he would’ve come to his senses in the midst of the carnage. Or worse, he could’ve continued out the front of the school into the very public area, continuing to think he was in a combat zone.

Souze stepped forward and stuck his cold, wet nose right into Rojas’s face.

“Ugh.” Rojas pushed Souze’s muzzle away, but the GSD returned and got in his face again. “I’m okay. I’m back. It’s fine.”

He pushed himself up to stand. The dog was responding to his agitation, and he was damned lucky Souze had responded at all. It wasn’t in the scope of the dog’s training.

Rojas stared down at the dog, then buried his hand in the thick fur along the back of the dog’s shoulders. Souze’s eyes closed in response to the good scratching Rojas gave him, leaning in as Rojas moved his hand up to massage around the base of the dog’s ears.

“Thanks, buddy.” Rojas could only imagine what would’ve happened if Souze hadn’t been there. None of it was good. “I owe you. Big time.”

He stood there with Souze for a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the men downstairs training. He needed to be sure he was in the here and now, not trapped back in places he’d left far behind. As a Navy SEAL, his missions had been in and out of hot spots, focused and comparatively short in length in terms of deployment. There wasn’t any one mission haunting him. They all did, in one way or the other. It made figuring out his own triggers a struggle, made every day an unknown minefield to navigate.

When he was sure he was steady, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow and palms and pulled his tee on over his holster. Then he continued down the stairs, opening the door slowly.

Revolution MMA was exactly the way it should be. The blinds were up, letting in the morning light, and four men were training hard on the mats. One of them was Cannon. Cannon must’ve left Souze to hang out loose downstairs without a placement command. Good thing he had.

As Rojas stepped out, a couple of them gave him an upward chin jerk in greeting but didn’t pause in their timing drills.

Rojas led Souze straight to the back door and let them both out into the open.

They should head back to Hope’s Crossing Kennels, but he was steady now with Souze’s timely help, and there was still a pressing need for action.

He had no doubts Elisa’s car would still be under surveillance. Even though there weren’t yet signs of someone tapping into the surveillance feeds at Revolution MMA, it was only a matter of time. Her stalker would likely hack into other stores with security coverage of the parking lot as well. Elisa hadn’t been back in a day or more as far as her stalker could tell, and efforts would increase in intensity to gain some sort of control over her again. If it’d been Rojas or any of his team monitoring a target, they’d have sent someone to keep direct eyes on the car.

It was the most recently known connection to Elisa.

So he started them on a long walk around the perimeter.