Trinity: Military War Dog by Ronie Kendig

the distance.
    Why did he care? She wouldn’t commit to save her life. And he’d pulled out all the stops. When was the last time—
never
. He’d never been that bold or direct. He was messed up.
    And yet … he stood here, like a lost puppy, wishing she’d been willing to try.
    The desire was there, buried deep in her past. It was okay. He wasn’t going to rush it. Wasn’t going to stress. Something in him said this wasn’t the last time he’d see her.
    But that didn’t stop the desperate feeling that she was getting away.
    She strapped into the chopper, her back to the pilots and facing Heath.
    Trinity barked.
    A smile slid into Jia’s face. Her hand lifted an inch.
So. That’s it: good-bye
.
    Why was he acting like a chump? He had her figured out, really. That inch of a raised hand was a mile for her, which meant she
was
trying. He could live with that. For now.
    He ruffled the top of Trinity’s head. “C’mon.” He made his final circuit, passing several other choppers. Lucky ducks would get a fast trip to wherever they were going. Of course, they were twenty-million-dollar targets for RPGs. Then again, the MRAP and Humvees that would ferry him and the A Breed Apart team to their next gig, though not as expensive, were just as vulnerable.
    Vulnerable … yeah, he’d exposed his backside to Jia for a nuke of a rejection.
    But then he’d pushed it back into her court, cornered her as best as he could. Convincing her not to repel what she felt for him was like trying to get a cat to take a bath.
    At his tent, Heath placed Trinity in her crate with some fresh water and headed to the showers, ready to wash the dirt, grime, and frustration from his body. It was okay. He wasn’t in a place where he could nurture a relationship—or more important, where he wanted to. They had time. And his life was screwed up enough with his uncle in the soldier’s home and his own failings, thanks to the TBI. He hadn’t even told Jibril about blacking out on the way over. Thankfully, it was a short one.
    Most people who weren’t familiar with the blackouts would never realize what happened because they came and went in seconds. It’d seem as if he was just disoriented or lost in his thoughts. Still, it was a problem. But if he stressed about it, the symptoms would grow worse.
    Back at the tent he shared with the other ABA members, he noted all of Jibril’s belongings packed and gone. Heath double-checked his watch. Not late. But he should get his ruck and head to the rec building to meet up with the team.
    He let Trinity out, and she jumped up on his cot and stretched out. “Spoiled.” Pink tongue hanging out, she squinted beneath the rising sun as if to say, “Yeah, so?”
    Ten minutes later, he and Trinity ambled across the base to the main gate where two MRAPS idled. Four soldiers stood around talking. The others were already assembled. “Did I miss an earlier rollout time?”
    “No,” Jibril said.
    “What’s the matter? Lose track of time after your hot lunch date?” Hogan smirked. “She seemed to be into you.”
    If Hogan didn’t have such a stinking attitude, he might find her attractive. She was as annoying as a kid sister.
    A swirl of rushed movement from the side severed his biting retort. A dozen men rushed toward a chopper, armed to the teeth, determination carved into their faces. Heath took a step in their direction. Saw their patches. Heat zapped through his shoulders, the familiar
tsing
of adrenaline. It was—
    Couldn’t be.
    He took a few quick steps.
    One of the SOCOM guys, eyes shielded by Oakleys, looked his way—and slowed. Watters!
    Heath’s body lurched into action two steps before he told himself to stay put. The pounding of the helo’s rotors thudded against his chest. The wind whipped and tore at his face. He offered a two-fingered salute to the man.
    The skids lifted, and Heath stepped back as the chopper rose. Its nose dipped down, then leveled and rushed forward to save the