Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(28)

She seemed to want instant compliance when she spoke. She’d alienated most of The TEAM during the search for Kelsey, not that it would’ve kept them from searching on their own. They’d simply worked around her when they disagreed with her telling them what to do and when to do it, as if they didn’t already know.

Sullivan seemed not to understand that most military men and women were one-half alpha from the ground up. They’d all been trained to lead. Following a bossy civilian didn’t set well. She didn’t get that a good leader doesn’t command respect, either. They earn it.

It’s one of those symbiotic relationships a guy can’t learn from a book. If a good first sergeant takes care of his men, his men will take care of him. If not, he got the kind of allegiance that happened too often in the Vietnam War—attempted murder by any other name. An arrogant officer who thought he was better than his men might have woken up to a hand grenade tossed into his hooch. Or worse. He might not have woken up at all.


Of course there were other dynamics at work during that war. Politics. Gabe tossed the rubber bone he’d retrieved from the dog kennel and let the history lesson go.

Whisper bowled Smoke over to get to the toy first. Smoke recovered quickly, but Whisper scooped the bone into his powerful jaws, not missing a step. Both dogs made a mad dash around the yard before they circled back.

Nurse Sullivan picked her way across the yard toward Gabe, watching where she stepped and carefully avoiding the dogs.

He crouched to retrieve the bone. With a spring-loaded cock of his arm, he pitched it high into a steep arc that forced both dogs’ eyes upward. While they pranced and scrambled to retrieve it, he snagged another chew toy from their kennel and tossed it to Sullivan. “Here. Play fetch with us.”

“Ewww. No thanks.” She sidestepped, letting it drop to the grass when the dogs roared back for more.

Goodhearted Whisper bumped his nose against Sullivan’s butt, urging her to come play, too. Or saying hello. It’s kind of hard to tell with dogs.

Sullivan twisted her backside out of the reach of his long muzzle and smacked his nose. “Beat it, dog. Shoo. Get away from me.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t hit him. Whisper used to be an Army EOD K-9, you know—a military working dog. He sniffed out munitions, bombs and IEDs while in—”

Her hands hit her hips. “I thought so. You’re ex-military.”

“USMC and proud of it.” When her eyes narrowed, he spelled it out. “Sorry. United States Marine Corps, ma’am. Ex-Sergeant Gabriel Cartwright at your service. Whisper’s Army buddy over there, the guy on his belly who should’ve brought me the bone...” Gabe lifted his brow with a semi-stern warning in his voice. “That sneaky silver fellow is Smoke. Come here, Smokey. Bring it here.”

Smoke glanced at him for one scant second before he turned to the bone trapped securely between his two front paws. He’d been caught red-handed—umm, red-pawed. Even for a dog, he looked guilty as sin.

Poor Whisper still must’ve thought Sullivan was a friend, or maybe a toy. When he rounded her backside, he goosed her again. Apparently, Whisper liked girls’ butts. Didn’t all guys?

She let the big dog have it, yelling at him to, “Stop doing that. I mean it. Get away from me.”

Whisper ducked his head low, his tail between his legs. He circled around Gabe like the bad puppy he was not.

“Aww, is she being mean to you?” Gabe crouched to one knee, ruffling his fingers over Whisper’s furry face and trying hard not to laugh at the way Whisper had welcomed his new friend. “How can you not like these dogs? Look at this cute mug.” He turned Whisper’s face for Sullivan’s viewing pleasure, stretching his lips into a big canine smile. “He’s adorable. And he’s smart.”

“Not if he was in the Army, he wasn’t.”

“Excuse me? You got something against the Army, ma’am?” Gabe did, too. All jarheads did, but even the be-all-you-can-be grunts in the Army were still brothers at arms. And no one should mess with a guy’s brothers.

“Dogs are nothing but hair and germs, the last things Mrs. Stewart needs inside her home.” Sullivan sniffed, her nose lifted in the air. “Besides, I didn’t come out here to play.”

“So what did you come out here for?” Gabe tugged on the end of the rubber bone protruding from Smoke’s lips. The rascal slapped both front paws to the ground and tugged back. Whisper crouched low, his tail waving like a happy flag behind him, watching for a chance to steal the prize.

“Would you pay attention?” Shelby snapped with her usual imperious tone, her arms crossed. “I don’t have all day.”

“So talk. What do you want? I can listen while I play.” With a quick flick of his wrist, Gabe stole the bone from Smoke. “Sheesh. What’s so important that you don’t have time to take a break and play for a minute?”

Smoke’s bright eyes followed Gabe’s every move.

“I’d like to discuss Mrs. Stewart’s clothing, if you don’t mind. You were right. They’d been laundered. At least her blouse was. And you need to know I’ve got her on a strict schedule.”

“Kelsey’s got a schedule? Hmm, guys. I didn’t know that, did you?”

“Woof,” Whisper replied.

“Of course, she does.” Sullivan’s intensity ramped up. Her voice pitched into a higher and more demanding tone. “Especially now that she’s recovering from pneumonia. I’ve organized a medication schedule and a menu for her.”