Page 34 of A SEAL's Protection
Two days ago, it would have irritated me to have him helping, but I don’t bristle. It’s nice to have someone with me, helping me collect the samples.
“I want to get one more,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
He follows without question. A few feet up, I dig again and retrieve the sample. I stopper the vial and pull out a label and pen.
“Did you get what you needed?” Marcus asks. He sounds genuinely curious.
I write the date and location on the sample and hold it up to show him. “If this contains what I think it does, then it will prove the runoff damage and how long it’s been happening.”
Pride seeps into my voice, and I don’t try to hide it. I am damn proud. It will silence the professor who rejected me. It will prove I don’t need my father’s money. Best of all, it will expose the mining companies trying to greenwash their operations and prove this area needs stronger environmental protections.
“I’m not against mining,” I say, my voice rising. “I just want the real costs to be acknowledged.”
Marcus listens. For once, there are no smart remarks. For once, I feel like I’m not alone in this fight.
We pack up my gear, and as I slip the sample pouch into my bag, my fingers brush the cold steel of the gun. It reminds me of what’s at stake. It also reminds me of Marcus—and how little I know about him.
“Why are you here?” I ask as I pack up my sample bag.
He shrugs. “I like hiking.”
I shake my head, wondering if I’ll ever get a straight answer. “You’re ex-military, aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” His lips quirk upward, and it’s a relief that he’s joking around.
“If it wasn’t the easy way you wield a gun, it’s the camouflage—and the way you scan the tree line. Special forces. Navy SEAL?”
Regret flashes across his face. “Was. Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
Marcus zips my camcorder into its pouch for me, and I stuff it in my bag.
“I gave it all up to follow rich girls on adventures.”
I slap his shoulder playfully. “Do you ever give anyone a straight answer?”
“Not if I can help it.” He grins, then sobers. “Honorably discharged. Got shot one too many times.”
This time, I know he’s not joking. “You’ve been shot?”
“More than once.” His eyes darken. “None of my injuries were major, but they all add up. A dislocated shoulder that refuses to settle, a bullet to the thigh. That’s the one that finally got me sent home.”
His gaze drifts and goes distant. “I lived for it, for the action. The thing I loved most was jumping out of planes. Now I’ve got to pay to do it.” He laughs, but I see the regret behind his smile.
“What are you doing now? Security contracts?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. My sister wants me to come back to New Zealand and help with the farm we inherited.” Another shrug. “I’m not ready to be put out to pasture yet. I love the adrenaline. I love the fight. I’d still be in if they’d have me.”
His eyes scan the skyline, always alert, always a soldier, always on duty. I can imagine him out in the desert. He must have been a good soldier, among the best if he was a SEAL.
I take a step closer, and my gaze lifts to his. Last night, Marcus helped me forget for a while. I want to do the same for him.
He takes my hands, frowning. “Your hands are freezing.”
He rubs them between his hands, and the heat transfers. It’s more than heat from his hands. Marcus sparks something in me that heats my entire body.
