Honor Courage Commitment

by Jordan Danzig

“How is that possible?”

  “I was assigned to their unit after their SARC was wounded in action.”

  “What’s a SARC?” asked Amanda, coming to sit on the arm of Zanna’s chair.

  He laughed. “A Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman. The USMC doesn’t have any field medics; they’re all supplied by the Navy.”

  Zanna studied him for a moment. “You kept that quiet. But then, for someone so willing to share, you keep a lot of things quiet, don’t you.”

  “Yeah, but like I said, corpsmen have a choice whether they want to serve the tour as Marine or Navy. I chose to follow their ridiculously tight regs. I wore their uniform and conformed to their haircut rules. Of the two guys serving as corpsmen to them now, one has gone Marine, the other opted to stay Navy.”

  “Is that what this insignia means?” Zanna asked, pointing to the silver metal pin depicting the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor of the USMC atop two crossed rifles over waves breaking on a beach.

  “It denotes I can be attached to a forward-deployable unit of Marines.”

  “So, that’s why Rivera was always so comfortable having you around.” Zanna narrowed her eyes. “What about Commander Gant? How does he fit in?”

  Raul inhaled deeply while lifting his chin. “I know he had something to do with their psych evals when they moved over to Spec Ops.”

  “Oh! That must be why he took over Angel’s rehab,” said Amanda.

  “He has a lot of respect for them, doesn’t he?” Zanna said, more to herself than the others. “And a lot of time.”

  Raul stood and stretched his shoulder muscles. “It’s mutual, Zee. Hang out with any of them long enough, you’ll have a lotta respect for them too.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, just down the hallway from Angel, Zanna ran into Myler coming out of another patient’s room.

  Handing her a key, he said, “You got time now or do you want to meet up after work?”

  “Later would be better,” Zanna replied. “It will give us more time to do things properly.”

  “You know where to find it?”

  Zanna nodded

  “Great. It’s a date, then.”

  They parted and Zanna hugged the key tightly. Yes. At last! A Marine was heading away from her down the corridor. I know that walk. “Hey,” she called after him. “I haven’t seen you for a while, how are you doing?”

  With little expression, Rivera said, “Pretty good.” He took a step.

  But you don’t sound it. In an attempt to keep him talking, she said, “I heard you passed the MEB. Congratulations, I’m so pleased for you! I also heard about that fifteen K combat hump yesterday.”

  “Thanks.” He began to walk away.

  “Wait, I’ve got something for you.” She ducked into the Staff Lounge and returned with a small box containing an expensive multi-tool. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to wrap it.”

  With what might have been a curt nod of thanks and pocketing it with barely a glance, he said, “I have one already.”

  Zanna blinked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” His eyes glittered. “I’ve spent the last months of my life getting fit enough to rejoin the team.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Only to now have my best friend lying injured in there with no idea of what kind of recovery he’s going to make, or whether he’ll even make it back to any kinda duty.” He clenched his fists.

  The underlying hurt, the raw anger, and emotion coming from him was even stronger than when he received the news about Villarreal’s death. “Why?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken the word out loud.

  “Angel turned my life around. He helped me map out my career path in The Corps. This is the only place he belongs. The only place I belong.”

  He is what he is, echoed through Zanna’s mind.

  He curled his lip. “Why does any of this matter to you anyway?”

  She fought back tears of frustration. “Because I—” She choked and placing her hand on his forearm said, “because I care about you, Domingo . . . a lot.”

  His dark eyes flashed and he took a step back, causing her hand to slip. “Don’t waste your time,” he said, with a short laugh. He strode away without looking back but paused to hand something to the maintenance worker cleaning the floor, whose face lit up with a broad smile. Rivera exchanged a brief word with Raul when they passed each other.

  “Sup?” asked Raul reaching Zanna and Amanda who’d joined her.

  Zanna stared at the floor.

  “Forget about him, Zan,” Amanda said. “He doesn’t have room for any romantic feelings. The only thing he’s in love with, apart from his own body, is the bloody USMC.”

  “Shit, what the hell happened here?” Raul asked

  “I just pushed him away for good,” Zanna replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I as good as told him I loved him.”

  Raul winced. “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Don’t waste your time’.”

  “I know what you’d prescribe in this situation.” Raul opened his arms from the elbow. “Hug?”

  She buried her wet cheeks into his shirt and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.

  31

  Sitting outside their compact two-bed staff apartment, Amanda and Zanna were drinking chilled wine coolers and watching the glorious late October sun slip behind the hills. Having taken a demure sip, Amanda wiped away a dribble with her thumb. “What?” she said, bristling at Zanna’s smirk.

  “I was just thinking your mother would have something to say about you chugging from a bottle like that.”

  Amanda laughed. “She’d have something to say about a lot of the things I’ve done since I’ve been here.”

  “I’m really happy that you and Angel are getting along so well.” Zanna toyed with the peeling label on her bottle. “But I wonder what makes Rivera so cold.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he wasn’t loved enough as a child.”

  Zanna sighed. “Maybe it’s just me.”

  Amanda tapped her bottle with a fingernail. “He has a great relationship with those guys in his unit. You should have seen the way they greeted him at the Homecoming. All very tight-knit. I can’t see him being accepted if he was a miserable loner or had some kind of underlying psych problem. He’s visited Angel countless times and they seem pretty close. Maybe it’s women he has trouble relating to.”

  “Or maybe it’s just me.”

  Amanda giggled. “Or maybe, it’s because he’s shy.”

  Zanna choked on her wine. “He wasn’t shy when he gave me that swimming lesson.”

  Amanda pointed the neck of her bottle at Zanna. “I hate to say it, but maybe it is just you. Maybe you aren’t his type.” Zanna was not joining in with her laughter. “Look, you’re fiercely independent. Maybe you are just too strong for him. Too strong, in the sense that you would always be clashing. He is an extremely strong character himself.”

  “Hey.”

  They both jumped at the sound of the familiar male voice. Amanda could not hide her joy at it being Angel who’d startled them.

  He fiddled with something in his hands. “You drive don’t you, Amanda?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “The guy who was supposed to drive me home has made other plans for his Friday night, and left me high and dry.” He jiggled his car keys at her and put on what she called his ‘labrador puppy’ expression. “You can drive my car back here after.”

  Amanda glanced at Zanna, who gave her a thumbs up in response.

  Arriving at the parking lot, Amanda tried guessing which car was his. There was Gant’s sporty, dark green Range Rover HSE; classic, quality—like him. Garcia’s red Ford Focus; dependable, reliable, and Rivera’s Black F-150 Raptor pick-up; brooding, menacing. What’s that doing here? Oh, he’s probably lent it to Angel. They walked right past it. So what does Angel drive then? Family man, trustworthy. Oh, no, please, not that Prius!

  Angel ignor
ed the Prius and stopped next to a dark blue sports car emblazoned with a double silver racing stripe that extended over the roof from the front to the rear bumpers. Silver letters spelled out the word ‘Shelby’ across the back of the car.

  “Is this yours?” asked Amanda.

  “Yes,” Angel replied with a proud smile.

  She traced the emblem on the trunk lock; a coiled snake about to strike.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a cobra.”

  “No, silly, the car. What is it?”

  “It’s a Shelby GT-500.”

  “A what?”

  Angel’s smile faded. “A souped-up Mustang.”

  “And here’s me thinking you guys are supposed to keep a low profile,” Amanda said, laughing and shaking her head. “Rivera drives around in that skulking pickup and now you in this look-at-me car.”

  “It’s a military strategy called, ‘hiding in plain sight’.” Angel laughed with her. “It means being so obvious you don’t see it.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I think you’re both crazy.”

  He tossed her the car keys. “You may be right.”

  “You seriously want me to drive this?”

  “It’s just a car. It has all the usual pedals and levers.” He covered his face with his hand. “You can drive a stick shift?”

  “If that’s a manual gearbox, then yes. Where do you live?”

  “Out near Fallbrook. It’s about a thirty-minute drive. I’ll direct you as we go.”

  They drove in silence for a while, and then Angel asked, “Have you had dinner?”

  Amanda admitted that she hadn’t.

  “What do you like? Italian? Seafood? Steak?”

  She batted her eyelids at him. “Mexican?”

  He laughed. “Really? Because there’s a great little home-style place near here.”

  “Home-style?”

  “Yeah, real food, not your Tex-Mex crap.”

  She fought the rising unease when Angel directed her off the main drag and into a neighborhood Amanda would never have entered on her own. They ended up outside a run-down cantina whose parking lot was mostly filled with battered pickups and old cars.

  Is he serious? Though he obviously isn’t worried by the looks of the place or leaving his car. But I can’t imagine bringing mother here!

  Angel was greeted warmly in Spanish by the proprietor. After responding in kind, Angel switched to English, asking if he had a table for two. The place was already packed, and people were patiently standing around waiting for a space to become available. The man led them to a spot by an island of potted trees and plants.

  Angel said something in Spanish and the man nodded, smiled, and went into the kitchen.

  “I’ve ordered a selection of dishes for you to try. I hope you don’t mind?” Angel said.

  Amanda spent the best part of two hours sampling strange delights, among them Ceviche; raw fish marinated in lime juice, followed by shredded beef in a citrus spice and chili sauce served in a soft tortilla. She most enjoyed the mole sauce of chocolate, chilies, and spices over turkey. But she refused, point blank, to even try the Chapaulines which Angel described as deep-fried grasshoppers and he ate as though they were peanuts. They were never going to catch on at home!

  At the end of the meal, and without waiting for the bill, Angel left what looked like a large payment in cash on the table.

  Well, the guy did get us a table right away and provide all those tasters. Plus, Americans do tend to tip better than we do.

  Before going into the restaurant, Amanda had given Angel his keys for safe keeping. He got in the driver’s side. She slipped into the passenger seat and waited for him to realize his mistake.

  He keyed the ignition and with one hand on the wheel, deftly backed out of the parking space.

  “Hmmm,” Amanda said. “Is the restaurant owner also a neurologist?”

  Angel gunned the engine but didn’t drive off. “What?”

  “Did he clear you to drive?”

  He smirked. “I was too scared to come right out and ask for a dinner date. I figured if you had to drive me home, you wouldn’t mind the suggested detour. But that was the lamest excuse I came up with. You didn’t see Zanna rolling her eyes?”

  “How can a man like you be scared of asking a girl out on a date!”

  He feigned embarrassment, or maybe it wasn’t a put on. “This is out of my comfort zone. I’ve not done it in a while.”

  Amanda was about to deliver a scathing retort to that one, but then realized what he meant. He may have picked up plenty of girls in bars or wherever, but he hadn’t been out on a serious date since his wife died. When did Galena say that was, two years ago? She leaned across, pulled him toward her, and kissed him on the lips.

  “What time do you have to be at work in the morning?” he asked in a low voice.

  He was giving her an out if she wanted it. “I’m on at eight.”

  “OK, I can get you back by then . . . if you like?”

  She placed her hand on his thigh. “I like.”

  * * *

  They’d gone back to Angel’s house and headed straight for the bedroom. In less than five minutes he was done, and she’d barely begun to warm up. He rolled over and she waited for the snoring to start. It didn’t.

  He turned back toward her and stroked her cheek with the side of his forefinger. “Thank you for that. Now it’s your turn.”

  Amanda had never been made love to before. She’d only had sex. Angel was all over her body, touching her in places she never knew she liked being touched. Stroking, caressing, kissing, exploring. He licked her skin and then blew softly on it until she thought she was going to explode. He nibbled on her ear lobes, whispering god-knows-what in Spanish. He lifted her hair, breathed on to the back of her neck, and then he, oh-so-gently, bit her and pulled her hair softly at the same time. She moaned at the tremors rippling through her body.

  He took her hands and invited—no, expected—her to explore his body too. Unsure of what Angel required of her, she began as he had—gently, doing to him what he’d done to her. She massaged his skull gently with her fingertips, making him gasp and run his head under her hand, asking for more. He groaned when she let her hands slide down the contours of his muscular back, lightly scratching him with her nails.

  Does he not like it? “What? Did that hurt?” she whispered.

  “No,” he murmured. “It was fantastic. Do it again.”

  One hand scratched his back, while the other raked his skull. That was too much for him. He rolled onto his back pulling her with him and she ended up sitting in his lap. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the lips, tenderly at first, then pulling at them with her teeth. She turned her attention to his fingers, taking them in her mouth one by one; sucking them, nibbling them. She moved down to the jaguar on his chest, flicking his nipple with her tongue. He was breathing hard and fast; becoming aroused by this.