He was a controlled, steady man. And he wasn’t down with these wild sensations that made him feel disorganized on a cellular level. Yeah, he needed to pull himself back together.
And just as suddenly as the sensation came on, Dakota felt normal again.
His recovery this time was much faster than last time. Still, it was such a crazy, disorienting sensation that he stood there waiting for his brain to kick in and tell him what to do next.
There was no next. Not with this brown-haired lady anyway.
The goal, he reminded himself, was to get to the airport in time to test Tank’s sniffer as the Colombian flight disembarked.
This could go badly if, search warrant in hand, they found nothing or worse, a false positive, on the folks coming through.
Then it would be back to the drawing board, training Tank.
Maybe it was anxiety that made him buzz like that.
Yeah, maybe that was it.
Dakota’s hand shot up to signal for a different cab.
Chapter Six
Dakota
Monday
Four years ago, Dakota made a life-changing visit to see a military buddy, Joe, who retired from service to put his decades of K9 handling to good use at his own dog-training facility. Joe had a stellar breeding pair of working-line German shepherds that he’d found at two different rescue shelters before their vets could get in there and clip them.
Were they pedigree paper-holding pups?
No.
And that was good for Dakota’s wallet.
A military working dog, bought from a breeder and trained, was worth upward of $100,000. But a pup from two rescues, Dakota could manage even on his government salary.
The training? Joe would talk Dakota through it via video mentorship for a nominal fee.
And with that understanding, Dakota had told his friend he wanted dibs on a male from the next litter.
When Dakota went to make his selection from amongst seven litter mates, it was a done deal once he locked eyes with the furball in the purple collar. It was love at first sight, completely unconditional. What a sensation to look into Tank’s eyes and feel their connection right from the first.
Curious and intelligent, Dakota found out right away that if he wanted to keep Tank’s puppy teeth from destroying everything in his home, he’d need to teach Tank self-control. They both loved the tactical training that built Tank’s body and mind. They worked together every morning and evening when Dakota was in Virginia.
Joe boarded Tank at his training facility when Dakota was off on an assignment.
Tank was spot on with the kinds of tactical skills they trained. Practical-tactical was how Dakota labeled it. Dakota wasn’t jumping out of a helicopter into a hot zone. That was his last life.
Take-downs, alerts, and sniffer training were Tank’s bread and butter.
Yeah, he was good at that work, passing all of his certifications with flying colors.
He just wasn’t Cerberus good, and that was the gold standard.
Tank was Dakota’s family, his partner, and in the field, he’d be his weapon. Dakota absolutely needed Tank to have every advantage so they could both come home safe at the end of the day.
And here they were at the end of a long road, ready to test his skills in the field. It was up to Dakota to do his job as a handler precisely.
And the sooner Tank tested out of the certification program, the sooner he would leave Cerberus Kennels and come back home. For now, Dakota was like a parent with visitation rights.
