He missed scraping his back down the platform edge by inches. It caught the very back of his head as he tipped, then plunged into the water.
It was deeper than Dakota thought it would be. His feet didn’t touch bottom, and he was six-foot-four.
And cold.
Purple goose-fleshed cold. But he’d built his cold tolerance lying in the pounding surf on Coronado Beach, along with the other wannabe Special Warfare Combatant-craft Crewmen enduring hours in the freezing surf, monitored for hypothermia by a temperature pellet he swallowed at the start of the challenge.
But Dakota could understand Tank’s wild-eyed shock of a freakout dance as his K9 dog paddled straight for him, scraping his claws against Dakota’s skin as he tried to climb up onto Dakota’s shoulders.
“Cold belly?” Dakota asked through a teeth-chattering grin. He would do nothing to make Tank think that this was anything other than a typical day, and he should just get on with the task.
As Halo instructed, Dakota caught hold of Tank’s harness and pulled him around to point his nose in the right direction, then Dakota plunged forward, digging his hands in as he swam for the far bank.
Tank flew up the steep mud and stood shaking his coat dry as Dakota had to use the climbing web to get himself out.
His shorts clung in a way that might not prove modest in those photos folks snapped. And given how cold that plunge was, for sure, they wouldn’t be flattering.
“I’ll have to make up for my sad deficit with a winning personality,” he told Tank as he bent to take a breath.
Tank lifted a single brow.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dakota called, “I’m coming.”
Though he wore running shoes that let water drain out through the holes, they didn’t clean out the mud. Dakota could feel a mound of fine grains forming a pillow under his toes, throwing off his natural footfall. Those grains were between his toes and under his nails, and the whole experience felt likehe was using sandpaper on his feet as tiny sharp cuts formed wherever there was shoe.
That didn’t slow Tank as he followed the curving wooded trail, popping out in the next field where Dakota could see the next obstacle out in front of them, the wall.
They had a photo spot all set up and well-populated so people could ooh and ah over the feat.
“Let’s get real here, buddy,” Dakota huffed out. “I don’t do what Cerberus does in daily training.”
The crew at Cerberus made their living by going into disaster zones with their K9 partners to save and protect clients. Whether it was corporate, government, or universities, if something was going down, be it a coup or a lava flow, Cerberus would find a way in and find a way to pull their clients out. Sometimes it was a search-and-rescue, digging through volcanic ash; sometimes it was flanking a threatened diplomat and running for the bunker. They trained for everything and anything. So today’s obstacle course was just another day at the office.
Dakota spent his days hunting down counterfeiters, a slightly different skill set.
He had his days when being a triathlete kept him alive on the job.
But that didn’t mean he’d ever tried to carry Tank on his shoulders up and over an eight-foot wall.
That required technique.
Yeah, he was going to look like a dork on social media —but for a good cause. More clicks, more money. He was in it to win it, and the only win that mattered was money for kids.
Mojo and his handler, Levi, were just ahead. It looked simple enough.
After placing Mojo into a sit, Levi squatted beside his dog and made the call that, from where Dakota stood, sounded like “Ally-oop!”
Mojo put his paws on Levi’s far shoulder.
Levi grabbed the harness buckle at the front, scooped his arm under Mojo’s butt, shifting Mojo until he draped across Levi’s shoulders. Fluid. Easy. Once he stood, Levi told Mojo to relax, grabbed the rope, and went up effortlessly.
“It’s a nothing burger, easy peasy,” Dakota told Tank as he signaled him around to sit at Dakota’s side. “You trained this, right?”
Dakota squatted. He lifted his right elbow and said, “Ally-oop!”
And Tank snuck his head around to give Dakota a whole face tongue bath.
“Thanks, big man.” Dakota pushed him off. “That’s not what we’re looking for here. Can you get up on my shoulders?”
