Trinity: Military War Dog by Ronie Kendig Read Free Book Online Page A

of a migraine. “It’s about me.” He poked a finger against his own chest. “You don’t think I can handle this. I’m not a cripple.”
    Calm and ever serene, Jibril said, “No.”
    Swallowing hard, Heath felt like a heel. The man before him was missing a limb. Before his prosthesis, he’d been a “cripple.”
    “But you are diagnosed with TBI. And I have a responsibility— especially with regard to insurance and protecting the organization—to make sure you arrive alive and return in the same condition.”
    “This is bunk.” Heath wanted to spit. “Would you be sending all of us if it was Hogan?”
    Hesitation provided the answer.
    “I don’t believe this.” He spun around.
    “Please, Ghost—”
    “Whatever. Forget it.” Heath raked a hand through his short crop. Despite the affront, despite the intense feeling of failure, of not having his friend believe in him, Heath held his anger in check. Anger would only ignite the TBI. It’d inflame an already tense situation. And what if he got so upset he blacked out? Yeah, that would help.
    A car rolled to a stop near the private jet waiting.
    “Heath, please. Understand my situation—”
    “I do.” Man, he hated to admit that. Because admitting it tanked the frustration. Tanked the anger. And right now he wanted to be angry. As much as he didn’t want to face it, as much as it angered him to almost be called a liability … Heath understood the position this put his friend in.
    Time to suck it up. To look at the flip side of this coin. “Thanks.”
    Mouth agape, Jibril blinked. “For what?”
    “For believing in me. I know you wouldn’t let me go, you wouldn’t put ABA at risk if you didn’t believe in me.” Swallowing his pride, Heath sighed. “Thank you.”
    Two thuds stamped through the air.
    Heath glanced at the car where Hogan and Courtland waited. Aspen wore guilt like a neon
chador
. Hogan on the other hand held her ground. She must’ve had the world handed to her and didn’t care who she ran over getting to the top. Spoiled brat.
    “I’ll meet you on board,” he said to Jibril, then headed up the ramp into the plane. He made his way past the cargo hold stacked with equipment. Techs anchored the pallets with straps.
    Getting out of the Army, he thought he’d escaped the looks of pity and actions that bespoke hesitation and concern about his ability to perform his duties. So much for that idea. The truth was spelled out on the three faces of the other ABA members: They didn’t trust him to do his job. They expected him to fail.
    Heath entered the small cabin area and stuffed himself into one of the seats. After fastening his belt, he pressed the back of his skull into the headrest with his eyes closed. God just wouldn’t give him a break. Strip the beret from him. Strip the chaplaincy from his hands. Strip the respect for him from his own team. Anything was better than facing the team he had already failed. Failed with a capital F.
    Because that’s what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? If they already felt they had to protect him, then they’d hover over him on the trip. Nobody would be productive. Everyone would be stressed. Especially him.
    Why had he agreed to this again?
    Oh yeah. Because he thought he could bury the past. Be of help to others.
    Hard to do when failure is your middle name
.
    “Commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed
.“
    Heath groaned. “I tried that. It didn’t work!” He’d made plans. God shut them down. Where was the verse for that?
    “
We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps
.“
    Frustration tangled his retort. Heath pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the agitation and—yes, he had to admit—hurt leech out. He groaned again.
Enough with the verse tug-of-war, God
.
    Cool air swirled around him as a light floral perfume intermingled with the treated air. “It was concern that pushed us to talk to Jibril.”
    Heath shifted but said nothing to Aspen. At