If he had a “do-over” button he could push, he’d slam his fist on it a thousand times. First, he’d spilled coffee on his favorite shirt. He hastily changed and started his car; he had a flat tire. By the time he’d mounted the spare and lurched out of his driveway, he was running late. His morning appointment was cancelled. The first call he got was bad news. The FBI forensic lab in Quantico had processed the wrong sample on a closed arm robbery case that his predecessor had handled, which meant the convict’s lawyer would appeal for a new trial.Then, to top it off, someone from his past had walked in and promptly stormed out on him. Tristan couldn’t imagine how the day could get any worse. Out of the people he wanted to see the most, Molly was top of the list. After he’d returned from Afghanistan with an honorable discharge from the Army, he’d had this intense urge to atone for his wayward past. What he’d seen on the front lines and losing half the comrades in his unit had opened his eyes.
