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      “It’s wet behind the ears,” Thorne corrected her.

      “Well, I’m not that.”

      No. You’re not.

      Thorne resisted the urge to smile and he resisted the urge to pull her in his arms and kiss her. Her brown eyes were dark with what he was sure was barely controlled rage, her cheeks flushed red. She was ticked off and he loved the fire in her.

      His desire for Erica was unwelcome. He couldn’t have a romantic attachment.

      I don’t deserve it.

      Emotions were weakness.

      Compassion for his patients, he had that in plenty, but these kinds of feelings were unwelcome. Still, he couldn’t stop them from coming, and as she stood in the elevator berating him he fought with every fiber of his being not to press her up against the elevator wall and show her exactly what he was thinking, that he’d fantasized about her for five years.

      “Well?” she demanded and he realized he hadn’t been listening to a word she’d been saying. He’d totally zoned out, which was unlike him. He rarely lost focus, because if you lost focus you were dead.

      At least that was what he’d picked up in his years in the Navy SEALs Special Ops and on the numerous dive missions.

      Tyler had lost focus and that was why the sniper would have finished him off, if Thorne hadn’t thrown himself in the path. Just like the stupid mistake he’d made when Liam had thrown him out of the way and paid with his life. Thorne had only lost a leg saving Tyler’s life.

      Just thinking about that moment made his phantom limb send an electric jolt of pain up through his body and he winced.

      “Are you all right?” Erica asked, and she reached out and touched his shoulder.

      He brushed her hand away. “I’m fine.” He took a deep breath.

      “You look like you’re in pain.”

      “I said I was fine!” He straightened up, putting all his weight on his prosthetic and working through the pain. “I won’t give you an easy ride, but I also won’t be so cruel. I realize that my actions are detrimental to your mental health.”

      The words “mental health” struck a chord with her. He could tell by the way the blood drained from her face. He knew they would hurt. In her file he’d read that her first commendation had been turned down due to her being unfit emotionally. Though he didn’t have the details as to why, that was unimportant. His barb worked and he regretted it.

      “My mental health is fine,” she said quietly.

      “Is it?”

      She didn’t glance at him as she slapped the emergency button, the elevator starting again. The elevator stopped on the next floor and the doors opened. She stepped out. The confidence, the strength which had been with her only a moment ago, had vanished.

      And, though he should be pleased that he’d got to her, he wasn’t. Thorne hated himself for doing that to her.

      It’s for the best. She’s dangerous to you.

      “Thank you for your time, Captain. I will see you on Saturday at zero nine hundred hours.” The doors closed and she was gone and Thorne was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. His small victory wasn’t so sweet.

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