Page 7 of A SEAL's Protection
It’s just like my dad. To outwardly support my solo research trip while scheming to have me followed. I don’t know whether to scream or to laugh.
Marcus offers me a hand, and I stare at it. If I give him my hand, I leave myself exposed, and I still don’t know if he’s telling the truth. He could overpower me easily. While he’s not super tall, when his body was pressed against mine, it was all hard muscle.
I ignore his hand and pat the surrounding ground, feeling for my knife. It’s the only protection I brought with me, and I didn’t think I’d need it on my second night in.
I grip the cool steel and clasp it in my hand, then scramble to my feet. With my other hand, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I don’t care that it’s three in the morning. Dad owes me an explanation.
Except there’s no signal. Not a single bar.
I huff in frustration.
“I’ve got a satellite phone if you want to call your father.”
Marcus stands watching me as cool as stone.
He keeps his palms outward, showing me there are no weapons in them, but who knows what he’s hiding in his cargo pants. There are more pockets in them than in a lab coat. He could have anything hidden.
“My camp is a few feet in that direction.” He indicates a dense thicket of undergrowth. I don’t see any signs of a tent. “I’ll get the phone, and you can call your father.”
It could be a ruse to get me where he wants me. But what other options do I have? If he’s legit, Dad will confirm. If not, I’d better hope my knife and the self-defense classes Dad insisted I take as a teenager pay off.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Start moving. But keep your hands in the air.”
My voice comes out steady despite the way I’m trembling. Growing up in the spotlight taught be how to pretend, and tonight I’m pretending to be a badass even as I shake on the inside.
He starts moving, and I clasp the knife with both hands and hold it up in front of me. “I’m going to have this knife at yourback ready to shove between your shoulder blades if you try anything.”
He nods once. “Understood.”
His tone is neutral, and I wonder if he knows there’s no way I could ever stab anyone.
Marcus moves slowly, stepping silently through the undergrowth. He stops a few feet away, and at first I don’t notice the tarp stretched between two small trees. It’s low to the ground, and he’s covered it with branches.
Underneath are a sleeping bag and a military-style backpack.
My skin prickles. This isn’t your average hiker setup. This is some serious military-grade stuff right here.
“This is where you’re sleeping?”
“I was. Until my sensor was tripped.”
“Sensor?” What the fuck? “You have sensors set up?”
Marcus shrugs. “My mission is to protect you. I’m doing what’s required.”
My jaw clenches. “I don’t need protection.” Especially not from some mercenary with high-tech gear, although Dad obviously thinks otherwise.
Marcus turns to face me with his hands up. “I’m going to crouch down and get the satellite phone out of my pack.”
He speaks low and steadily, and there’s something about his accent that’s reassuring. The long vowels make him sound harmless.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid with that knife, are you?”
His lips tug up at the sides, and he has the audacity to grin at me. His dark eyes twinkle, and it gives him a mischievous boy-in-trouble look, which is disarming, just as it’s supposed to be.
A foreign lilt and a cocky grin won’t fool me. I bet there are still murderers in Australia or New Zealand or wherever the heck he’s from.
I grip the knife with both hands and point it straight at his neck. “Not if you don’t do anything stupid.”
