Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog by Kendig Ronie

Author:Kendig, Ronie [Kendig, Ronie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781616266394
Google: JvZGmwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1616266392
Barnesnoble: 1616266392
Goodreads: 17303197
Publisher: Barbour Publishing
Published: 2014-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

A fist flew.

Tony caught it and turned Dad’s hand back as he and Grady wrestled Dad to the deck. “Easy there, Colonel,” he said in a calm, firm voice, hopefully filled with reassurance.

Dad thrashed. “Get away from me you piece of—”

It wasn’t the first time his dad, a Baptist-bred and -raised boy, spouted expletives at Tony during an episode.

“All clear!” Tony shouted. “Colonel, threat neutralized. Just me and the private here trying to help you out.”

“Don’t give me that! I know when I’m being manipulated.” Dad’s voice growled worse than Tim’s dog. “It won’t work this time. I’m not an idiot!”

Meaty jowls slopped into Dad’s face.

Caught off guard, Tony flinched away. Nothing like finding a 120-pound dog staring you down. Beo pushed in closer, his weight against Tony’s shoulder and arm pinning Dad to the deck. “Timbrel!” Man, the beast was heavy. “Call him off!”

Beo’s tongue swiped Dad’s cheek.

“What on earth?” Grady muttered as their father strained forward.

As drool slopped Tony’s face, he cringed and pushed his father back down. “Timbrel, now!” A fist jabbed toward him. Tony dodged it as he scrabbled for purchase on the decking.

Panting, Beo stared at his father, their faces only inches apart. Head tilted, Beo watched. Licked. Watched. Licked again.

“I swear, if you don’t get him out—”

Dad laughed.

Tony stilled. Laughed? His dad laughed?

Tension leeched out of his father. The arms hooked over Tony’s shoulders in an attempt to flee insurgents who didn’t exist relaxed. More laughter.

“What the heck?” Grady said, shifting aside to avoid getting nailed by the slobbering mouth.

With a happy bark that punched against Tony’s chest, Beo moved in for another lick. Nailed it.

Hooting, Dad tried to swing away from the dog.

With a furtive glance to Grady, Tony eased onto his haunches, disbelieving the sight before him. His father had curled onto his side, shielding his face. Beowulf went into full attack—play attack—mode. Licking, barking, drooling.

His brother backed off, sitting in one of the Cracker Barrel rockers. Tony, legs and arms weak from the explosion of adrenaline in trying to protect his father from himself, dropped into a rocker. Bent forward, elbows on his knees, he watched, disbelieving the way the dog who’d always been so willing to rip off Tony’s head, licked—kissed—his father out of a flashback.

Arms wrapped around the dog, his father laughed and wrestled himself free of the drool-bath.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Grady mumbled.

“Pretty unbelievable.” Tony couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Paws on Dad’s shoulders and tail wagging, Beo pinned him and went to town dousing him in slobber. Barked at him.

“All right, all right,” Dad laughed. “I surrender, you beast!”

Beo’s head snapped up and swiveled around. He pushed off Dad and trotted over to Timbrel, who stood at the top of the deck steps. She cast a nervous glance to Tony but then moved into a chair near his father.

She patted the side of his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Trying to steal my dog, Mr. VanAllen?”

Wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, Dad laughed as he moved back onto his glider sofa.

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