It'll Be An Adventure (Masters of the Shadowlands #15)(17)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

 

She checked the GPS and stopped. “We can start here.” She marked the starting place on the map and started the log, then tucked things away in her vest. Time to be record-keeper, communicator, and navigator.

 

Bending, Saxon rubbed behind Sherlock’s ears—and Murphy couldn’t help thinking of how warm and strong his hand had been when he stroked her hair at the Shadowlands.

 

Do not think of such things. Gah!

 

“You ready to go, buddy?” When Saxon grinned at his dog, a white smile in his tanned face, it was difficult to remember how hard his features had looked when he’d hit Gabi.

 

No, not hit—spanked. But still.

 

Sherlock gave a yip of happiness.

 

“Ready to scour the area and find the little girl?”

 

Sherlock whuffed and danced with eagerness.

 

“All right then.” Saxon unclipped the lead. “Find.”

 

The black dog was off like a shot, and Saxon jogged after him. Murphy stayed behind and off to one side, mentally keeping track of the wind. Nose high in the air, the dog would alert to any people he scented in the area, and she needed to be sure it wasn’t her he smelled, at least until he recognized her enough to discount her scent the way he did his handler’s.

 

Tension tightened her shoulders. Flanking was tough, keeping track of the wind, the dog, checking the dog was covering only their area—and not tripping over roots or crashing into low branches. It was multitasking on steroids.

 

Sherlock did move fast.

 

All too soon, sweat was trickling down her back, and she was sucking air. Keeping an eye on the map landmarks and the GPS, she called directions now and then when Sherlock started to go out of bounds.

 

The dog stopped at one point, sniffing hard, working his nose for the scent in the swirling breeze. Then his tail went down, and he moved off with no elation,

 

As she followed Saxon, disappointment slowed her feet and eroded her focus. She tripped—and recovered—though she probably looked like an incompetent beginner now. Dammit.

 

Saxon had been checking on her now and then, This time, he whistled for Sherlock. “Let’s take a hydration break.”

 

Great, now she felt like a total failure. “I can keep going.”

 

“Your color says we’re taking a break.” He gave her a level look. “I don’t know you or your limits. It’d be good if you let me know before you reached the point of exhaustion.”

 

Yes, she really was a loser. “Right. Okay.” She sure wasn’t going to say, “Yes, Sir.” Not to him.

 

Sherlock bounced back, as energetic as when they started, although his tongue was hanging out as he panted.

 

Murphy rested her butt on a stump as she caught up on the notes she’d made and drank her Gatorade. Each breath felt like she was inhaling hot soup. Why did she live in this stupid climate anyway?

 

After checking Sherlock for any injuries or stickers, Saxon gave his dog water, then leaned against a tree trunk. Sweat drenched his shirt, plastering it to a very muscular chest. As he chugged water from his canteen, his Adam’s apple moved up and down in his strong throat.

 

Why in the world was that incredibly sexy?

 

Oh, man, she was losing it—probably a sign of dehydration.

 

She drank more Gatorade.

 

The rest and fluids helped. However, her energy was taking forever to return. “I’m good to go when you are.”

 

His eyes were piercingly blue in his tan face as his gaze swept her from head to toes in a slow appraisal. “All right then.”

 

His accentless baritone was laden with compelling power. Her jaw tightened. When he’d made Gabi cry, his voice had stayed perfectly level and emotionless.

 

She needed to remember that.

 

At least he didn’t have that cruel sickness in his eyes. The kind she’d seen in Aaron’s. Master Saxon had shown no expression during the spanking, although he hadn’t seemed to enjoy himself, now that she thought about it. What kind of a man was he? She didn’t understand him at all.

 

Well, Murphy, you don’t need to, now do you?

 

She rose, tucked her Gatorade away, and took a quick GPS reading. “We’re on course.”

 

Giving the find command, Saxon let the dog run, then followed.

 

 

 

Fucking hot day to be jogging. Saxon kept one eye on Sherlock’s body language—his nose, his muscles, the movement of his tail—while also keeping track of the increasingly wet ground in front of him. Because tripping over roots was a pain in the ass.

 

He’d done it plenty when starting out in search and rescue, not so much anymore.

 

As he ran, he kept his ears tuned to Murphy’s footsteps and the sound of her breathing. He’d ignored Ross’s disparaging remarks, but the young woman was new to SAR, so Saxon had been prepared to take it easy on her.

 

But she was doing incredibly well with the multitasking needed for K9 field support. She was navigating, handling the coms, writing notes on Sherlock’s alerts and their route, checking for hazards.

 

And with all that, she wasn’t fazed by the dog’s speed. Those long legs of hers moved damn well.

 

Over the last year, since Saxon had jumped into SAR, he hadn’t found a flanker who suited him. Most couldn’t keep up. He rejected a couple more because of their sloppy skills. Unlike quiet Murphy, one flanker had never stopped complaining; if they’d been in the Shadowlands, he’d have gagged her.

 

He didn’t tolerate whining in a dog. Why would he put up with it in an assistant? But…this was the vanilla world. No ball gags allowed, and wasn’t that a pity?

 

Thinking of ball gags pulled him into thinking about the Shadowlands and meeting Murphy, who’d made a very cute kitten. One who’d just begun to explore the fun of pet play, and whose big vulnerable eyes had tugged right at his heart.

 

She wasn’t looking at him that way today. In fact, he hadn’t realized brown eyes could turn so cold.

 

Despite being the recipient of all the ice, he had to appreciate how she showed her emotions so clearly. Even when she was obviously trying to be politely professional, her anger and dislike of him came through as loud as a PA broadcast.

 

Her change in attitude probably had to do with the spanking he’d given Marcus’s submissive. Being new, Murphy probably didn’t understand, probably couldn’t understand even if he explained. And he wouldn’t. This was a search, not the club.