Page 8 of S.O.S. Mizzay

Before he could decide whether or not to risk the pain and try to dig deeper into the fog, the door opened and Andy walked back in.

Andy.LT Missy Andriopolos.

Now there was one hell of a woman. One he’d spent a lot of time thinking about. Gorgeous. Lethal. Confident. The whole package. Her tight little body, her silken dark hair, those enormous green eyes behind the sexiest glasses he’d ever seen…

Cobble had never asked her age or availability status, because his fantasies couldn’t go anywhere, what with her being his superior officer. Even though she looked like a baby, he figured she had to be a few years older than him. She was a second lieutenant, after all.

To become a second lieutenant, she would have had to finish college, then go on to officer training; things she must have accomplished rapidly. Still, despite her impressive credentials, the petite whirling-dervish couldn’t be more than twenty-four.

He'd been part of the LT’s platoon for two months. Two long months where he’d practically drooled over her from afar. So by now, he knew Andy pretty well. She was a hands-on leader, jumping in and doing everything she asked of her team. She socialized to a point, but…

Damn.He wished there could be more between them. He’d had this irrational attraction to Andy from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

She was an anomaly, for sure.

His conundrum of an LT had an odd way of keeping her speech formal—as if she were trying to hide an accent—and she often deferred to her higher-ups, even though Cobble knew she’d already formulated plans or answers to whatever problems they were facing. So, her forbearance wasn’t because she wasn’t capable. It was almost like her youthful appearance went hand-in hand with the price of acquiescing to those more “experienced”; something she must have learned as a survival or fitting-in technique while coming up through the system. Andy was small, but clearly brilliant.

She was a grade A leader all the way, regardless of what made her tick.

That’show Cobble knew she was definitely taking the loss of Squad C, hard; probably blaming herself. Just like he was heaping the fault on his own shoulders.

Even though he couldn’t recall the particulars of the attack, however, he knew, down deep, that neither of them could have prevented what had happened. He’d have to make sure Andy understood that he didn’t think less of her for being the one to give them their orders to support the UN peacekeepers that morning.

His LT, right now, headed back in to his room, accompanied by a white-coat who was most likely the surgeon who had put Cobble back together. He almost couldn’t focus on the doctor, his gaze lasered on Andy, but he forced himself to confront his present situation.

From what Cobble could tell every time he moved his body, the surgeon must have had to do some deep digging to get out the bullet that Andy said he’d taken. His chest hurt like the devil when he took a breath, and not only did he have a canula under his nose, he’d gingerly discovered a tube running out from a large section of bandages around his lower chest,andhe had a dreaded catheter in his dick.

Not his favorite piece of medical equipment.

“How is our patient feeling today?” the man asked as he came over to check on Cobble. Cobble noted the tag on his lapel said Dr. Veshal Balakrish.

“Sore. Tired,” he admitted as the doc pulled Cobble’s gown down and used his stethoscope to listen to Cobble’s chest. “What, exactly, did the bullet hit?” he questioned. He needed to know if this was something serious, or if he’d be back to business as usual in a few short weeks.

“You had a collapsed lung,” the doctor told him, peeling away the bandages, making Cobble wince. “Hence, the tube and suction.” He tapped the line which led from Cobble’s chest to a pump of sorts, then into a closed container. “This is to keep the fluids from building up so you don’t suffer a second collapse.” The doctor checked the apparatus, then gave a smile.

Huh.It must be working the way he wanted it to.

“Your vitals are strong, and your chest sounds are good,” the doctor explained while he did more examining. “I would say that if you continue making consistent progress, we could have you out of here and recuperating in a rehab location in a day or two. Of course, you’ll have to wait two to three weeks before you can be shipped back to the States. High altitude air pressure will not be your friend for a while. So, we’ll have to clear you before you get on a plane.”

“Back to the…?” Cobble looked confusedly at Andy, who sighed.

“Yeah. Sorry Cobble,” she explained. “The doctor has already been in touch with the MTF,” she told him, “And they’ve made their decision.” She gave the physician a less than pleased stare.

Not good.The Military Treatment Facility nearest to here was in Juba, and because the doctor had thought to call them…

If he was sent to Juba, would he ever see Andy again?

Dr. Balakrish continued as if what he’d just revealed was of no consequence. “With the level of damage to your lungs, I’ve recommended a full, medical discharge,” he informed Cobble, and with that handful of words, everything Cobble had worked toward his entire life went to crap.

Like hell.

“Can it be disputed?” Cobble growled.

Balakrish simply shrugged. “I can send all yourlatestrecords over to the MTF, and of course when you get to Juba,you can request a second opinion, but I don’t think the news you receive from them will be any different than what they’ve informed me.”

Andy stepped in. She must have seen Cobble doing a slow burn that clearly wouldn’t help his recovery.

“Slow down, Cobble,” she attempted to soothe. “How about we take this one step at a time. Let’s get you up and out of here, first. Then we can determine what your next move should be.”

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