Page 49 of A SEAL's Protection
The man places the pack in the helicopter and then turns back to help me on.
Marcus climbs up behind me, and as soon as he’s in, the man slams the door shut and the helicopter rises into the air.
Marcus straps in beside me. His shoulder brushes against mine. I want to reach for his hand the way I have a dozen times over the last few days. But something is different. We’re not alone anymore, and I hesitate.
I peer out of the window as the mountains fade below us. The route that took us seven days to hike will be done by helicopter in just over an hour.
Hudson engages Marcus in conversation, and Marcus shifts seats to sit next to him. I tell myself it’s so they can talk more easily. With the noise of the chopper, it’s hard to have a conversation without shouting. But it feels like he’s withdrawing.
I turn to the window and watch the mountains below us. From the air, they’re majestic. Dark green forest with slashes of rusty ridges and streams cutting through like veins.
It’s beautiful, and it reminds me why my work is so important.
I take a deep breath and ignore the loss I feel without Marcus by my side. But the closer we get to Hope, the further away from him I feel.
I shake the melancholy off me. I’ve got important work to do, and a press conference to plan for.
I pull out my notebook and jot down my thoughts. If Dad’s done what I asked, he would have called in his press contacts, probably with all sorts of promises. But they’ll be waiting, and they’ll expect a story. I’ll give them one.
Below us, the town of Hope comes into view. I swallow hard and glance up at Marcus. He has his body angled away from me and toward the window and is peering out.
The helicopter circles an airfield. I note a convoy of black cars that must belong to my father and press vans. He’s done what I asked.
I stuff my notebook in my bag and search for a hairbrush. I haven’t washed my hair in days, and I’m dusty with dirt under my nails. It shouldn’t matter, but I need to at least give the air of respectability.
I braid my hair into a thick plait that trails down my back. When I look up, Marcus is watching. But he turns away before our eyes meet.
In my pack are some wet wipes, and I run one over my face and neck, getting off the worst of the dirt. There’s a Chapstick in my pack, and I apply it over my cracked lips. I’m far from my red carpet best, but it will have to do. I’m aiming for respectability, not celebrity magazine.
The helicopter touches down, and the blades slowly come to a stop. My dad runs over before the doors are open.
Hudson opens the door and I step down, clutching my backpack. I’m aware of the cameras already rolling, no doubt live streaming our arrival.
I keep my back straight, determined to present a professional appearance, but my resolve crumbles when Dad rushes toward me.
“Allegra.” He envelops me in his arms, crushing my pack against my chest. “Thank God.”
I collapse into his arms as tears leak from my eyes in relief.
“I got the samples, Dad. I did it.”
I’m about to add all by myself, but I realize that isn’t true.
I glance around to search for Marcus, and he’s hanging back in the helicopter. Neither he nor Hudson has emerged. I can just make out their shadowy figures in the depths of the helicopter.
My dad’s gaze follows mine and lands on Marcus. I want to tell Dad how he saved my life, how he helped me, how what I’m feeling might be love. But the words seem stupid now that we’re back in reality.
A silent nod passes between them. And then Hudson hands Marcus a cap and dark glasses, which he slips on, becoming a generic security guard.
I wipe away my tears, wondering why he hasn’t come forward. Why he won’t join us.
His head scans the crowd. Even behind the dark glasses, I can tell from his tense posture that he’s alert. Still scanning, despite being on safe turf.
“Are you ready for this, or do you need some time?” Dad asks.
He’s talking about the press, who are held back by a metal barrier. Dad’s aides have set up a makeshift podium for the press conference, and there’s a crowd of about a dozen reporters and photographers, some holding up their phones, waiting for me.
I swallow hard and steal one last glance at Marcus. He got me this far, but I have to do this alone.
