Chapter One
Josh Coleman tightened the chin strap on his tactical helmet and checked his vest seals. Temporarily based in Texas, the air felt more like an oven on Thanksgiving. Always on, always getting hotter. Sweat slid down his spine, but his focus stayed locked on the six-vehicle convoy lined up for inspection.
“Transport three’s thermal reading is climbing faster than the others.” Scanning the line, he clipped the handheld scanner to his tactical vest. Responsible for convoy security, these routine checks had become second nature during his years of service.
Kade Sweet, his longtime friend and the Military Working Dog handler assigned to their team, approached with Rambo, the Belgian Malinois, trotting attentively at his side. Fitted to his muscular frame, the dog’s tactical vest matched their own. “All set?”
“Right about now, I’d kill for some of your mother’s strawberry lemonade.”
“Tell me about it.” Kade chuckled. No doubt his buddy’s thoughts were taking a detour to the Sweet family ranch, quiet evenings, soft breezes, and his mother’s lemonade. A quick blink and he was all business again. “Rambo already cleared the first two vehicles. No alerts for explosives. What’s the issue with transport three?”
“Looks like a coolant leak.” Josh gestured toward the heavy truck carrying fuel reserves for the joint training exercise. “I’m not taking chances with that much combustible material on board.”
As convoy security commander for this mission, Josh had final say on safety protocols. The chain of command was clear—he made the decisions, his team executed them, and everyone got home safe. The straightforward nature of this assignment should have made it routine: escort training ordnance and fuel supplies to the far range where a joint exercise was scheduled to begin tomorrow morning. Simple enough on paper.
The transport driver approached, wiping sweat from his brow. “Problem, Staff Sergeant?”
“Need to check your engine compartment.” Josh’s tone was professional but left no room for debate. “Pop the hood.”
The driver complied, releasing the hood latch with a metallic click. Josh leaned in carefully, avoiding the scorching metal components. His training had taught him to trust his instincts, and something about this situation felt off. A small puddle of green liquid had formed beneath the radiator, and the coolant reservoir showed a hairline crack along one side.
“Losing coolant fast,” Josh stepped back. “This vehicle isn’t going anywhere until it’s replaced.” He turned to Specialist Boglioli, his communications operator. “Radio base. We need a replacement transport before we continue the mission.”
“But we’re already behind schedule,” the driver protested. “Can’t we just add more coolant and keep an eye on it?”
Josh fixed the driver with a steady gaze. “Not with what you’re hauling. One spark near a fuel leak and this whole convoy lights up like the Fourth of July.”
Moving closer, Kade kept Rambo on a short lead. “Listen to the man,” his easy Texas drawl masked the authority in his voice.“Staff Sergeant Coleman’s been running convoy security since before you could shave.”
The driver’s shoulders stiffened under the rebuke. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”
Josh nodded to Kade as the driver walked away. “Thanks for the backup.”
“No problem.” Kade crouched to check Rambo’s tactical vest, adjusting a strap that had loosened. “Dog’s been acting antsy since we stopped. He’s flagging something.”
Scanning the sparse landscape around them, Josh frowned. Training grounds stretched for miles in every direction, mostly scrubby terrain broken by the occasional patch of mesquite trees and dirt roads. Nothing but heat waves shimmered on the horizon. “Think the heat’s getting to Rambo?”
Kade shook his head. “He’s desert-trained. This is nothing for him.” He gave a quick hand signal toward the front of the line. Rambo trotting beside him, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll finish clearing the lead trucks.”
Josh waved acknowledgment, turning his attention back to the idling transports. They hadn’t gone ten yards when Rambo suddenly stopped mid-stride, muscles going rigid, his head snapping back toward the rear of the convoy. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, sharp and warning.
Frozen in place, Kade’s hand hovered near his sidearm. “What is it, boy?” He followed the dog’s focus toward the fuel trucks behind them.
Josh’s pulse spiked. Rambo wasn’t one to false-alert—something back there wasn’t right.
The radio on Josh’s shoulder crackled to life followed by Boglioli’s raspy voice. “Base confirms replacement transport ETA forty minutes, Staff Sergeant.”
“Roger that.” Josh’s attention remained fixed on Rambo’s behavior. By detecting threats before human senses could,military working dogs had saved their lives more than once during previous deployments. Josh would trust a well-trained K9 before humans any day of the week. Something sharp and chemical tainted the air—too faint for his nose, but dogs didn’t false-flag.
“Check the rear vehicles again. Full inspection.”
“On it.” Kade nodded, already moving with Rambo toward the back of the convoy.
Josh followed, signaling for two more team members, Hanson and Gideon, to join them. If Rambo sensed something was wrong, there was a reason. Whatever was going on up front wasn’t what had Rambo spooked. Different truck, different threat.
They approached the rear transport—another fuel truck—where Rambo’s behavior intensified. The dog strained against his lead, hackles raised, growling more loudly now.
“Something’s definitely got him worked up.” Kade’s voice dropped to a near whisper as he maintained control of his partner.
