Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,8

that mission was aborted. You’re in bad shape, dehydrated, malnourished, and strung out. You didn’t check in. The corps doesn’t want to lose even one man.

Price of battle.

Is it because Corporal Levis was killed? Is that bringing back any memories?

No.

I think it is. I see that you often take the solitary, dangerous missions. You were a scout sniper before you went into Force Recon.

So.

Another solitary duty. You not a team player?

It reinforced to Tristan exactly what a shrink knew. Dr. David Cross, Lieutenant, Army. Dweeb. Tristan called him Doc Cross. He’d lost it then and he was escorted back to the ward, made to relax. It’s exactly how he found himself here at MWTC and had been for eighteen months—forced duty-change to recover from battle fatigue. Tristan found it ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with him. He was a Marine and he was born combat ready. All this bullcrap about needing rest wasn’t necessary. Why that conversation came back to him puzzled him. Banyan didn’t have anything to do with why he’d chosen solitary assignments. Nothing at all.

The scent of Amber’s perfume brought him back to the present. He resented the fact that she was so goddamned gorgeous. Pure California girl looks, sun-streaked hair that fell to the middle of her back, the front cut in layers, and almond-shaped mossy-green eyes. It was obvious that she’d gotten caught unaware in the snowstorm. All she had been wearing was a flimsy coat. He’d noticed her legs in those formfitting slacks, the tight curve of her hip and backside. She wasn’t delicate looking, but sturdier, as if she could actually climb a mountain. Her refined nose and her cheekbones went way beyond classic to exotic. She stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. And it had been a very long time that he had put the corps first, vowing not to get distracted or sidetracked. Getting involved was for when he got out of the military. It was no life for a family.

Her delicate brows bunched into a frown. “I got a feeling you’re not thrilled about me being here and it doesn’t really have to do with the death of your student.”

He wasn’t intimidated. “I’m not a big fan of Navy cops.” Amber gave off all the signs of being a smart, competent woman—well, unless it came to snowstorms. There was something different about her…something he didn’t want to examine too closely. She piqued his interest immediately and set to blipping on his radar. Attraction. It was just there, heating his body and making his heart pound.

She moved to butter her biscuit, and, the scent of her! Jeez! Lovely and warm, female. It filled him up and arrowed right down to his groin. He didn’t want to have any interest in her. It would be less complicated that way.

He had plenty of options. Even though his reenlistment was coming up to coincide with the end of his forced rest, he was going back to Force Recon and back into combat. With that decision firmly entrenched, it was stupid to get involved with a woman who had happily-ever-after written all over her. At this point he could retire from the Marines if he wanted to, but it was all he’d known for most of his life. He didn’t like that he was second-guessing his loyalty to the corps.

All during the Banyan incident, the corps had had his back.

“Why is that? Do you have something to hide?” she said in a matter-of-fact voice that was most likely generated from his unfriendly attitude.

Anger came from a well of unresolved torment. That’s exactly what the agent had asked him after the Banyan consulate massacre. He’d had to make sure to keep the consulate secure so that all the sensitive documents could be shredded and destroyed. It’s what he’d done. The moment he was free from that, he’d gone to help protect personnel. He’d been wounded, gutted by the deaths, including the ambassador’s. All of them had perished while he was focused on documents. His mission had been accomplished, but the cost was high.

He shut his laptop and picked up his plate, pushing away from the table. After walking into the kitchen, he deposited his plate and silverware into the sink with a noisy clatter. Tucking the laptop under his arm, he strode across the room and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door.

He set his laptop onto the bed and stripped off his camo shirt, ripping off his T-shirt,