Page 14 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

She tilted her head to one side. “For some reason they’re always funnier when Smitty tells them.” She frowned at Roger. “Weren’t you supposed to meet your wife five minutes ago?”

He stared at the clock on the wall, squawked, leaped to his feet, and dashed out the door. A couple of other people followed at a slightly slower pace.

“Sorry folks, Smitty is going on a break. He’ll be back to entertain you in fifteen minutes.”

There was some grumbling, but most of them got up and left.

Smitty followed her around back of the desk. “Nice bunch of folks here.”

“Oh yeah, we’re really friendly here in Bandit Creek. Until you realize someone has stolen not your car or your wallet sitting on the front seat, but all the gas in your tank.”

“Hey, they were really nice to me.”

“I noticed. I’m thinking of charging a five dollar cover just to get into my waiting room.”

“Huh. That could pay for the gas they’re going to steal.”

She grunted and started pulling charts for patients who were due in the afternoon.

“Do you want me to shut up with the war stories?” he asked a few moments later.

“Depends on which ones you’re telling.”

“Not...those.”

She stopped moving, then turned and looked at him.

He watched her with quiet, serious eyes. “Aside from the Army shrink, I haven’t told anyone aboutthatday. Have you?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe we should. Talk about it, I mean.”

Abby was about to respond, but the door opened and a couple of her next patients walked in.

Now was not the time to get into it. Not that there was ever a good time to relive the worst thing that ever happened to you.

She met Smitty’s gaze and saw his typical determination there. Determination to finish the job, to support his team, even though she was the only team member left. He wouldn’t just walk away, not now that he knew she was lighting up old dynamite every morning in an effort to cope with... everything.

Maybe he was right. Talking to him might help, since he already knew all the bad parts. “You got a place to stay?”

“The mayor told me there was a B & B I could stay in, but I haven’t called them yet.”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ve got a couch you can crash on.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Cool, a sleepover party.”

“Oh, and what did you do with my bag of dynamite?”

“I gave it to a concerned citizen,” he said with an innocent smile.

“The Sheriff, right? Because a few people have been asking where I get it.”

“Yeah, it was the Sheriff.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Those sticks are old enough that the nitroglycerine has crystalized all over the outside of them. One bad shake or drop andboom. Where’d you—”

“Not telling. It’s a secret.”

“Abby...” He said her name like she was five years old and had been caught with a lighter.

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