The Protector

by Cristin Harber

  He stopped and waited for her to catch up. “Is that so, Jane? Riveting.”

  Jane smacked his arm.

  “Tell me something.”

  “My brain is fried,” she admitted. “I can’t think.”

  “What’s the first thing you think of—” he snapped “right now?”

  “I’ve never been camping and slept with a guy I didn’t know.” The second she said the words, she cringed. Definitely something a twelve-year-old would say. “I mean, like that. Camping and sleeping, resting, with a stranger.”

  He chuckled a little. “Technically, I didn’t sleep much, so I don’t think it counts against you either way.”

  She laughed for exactly one heartbeat then realized that he’d been awake all night. Holding her. Watching her. Watching her drool and probably snore. Her cheeks blazed. “I offered to trade shifts!”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “You needed sleep.”

  “Everyone needs to sleep.”

  Chance shrugged again as if to say no big deal.

  “Are you tired now?” she asked.

  “More hungry than tired,” he admitted.

  At the mention of hunger, her stomach growled so loud that she was surprised it didn’t cause an avalanche of sandy dunes. She gripped her stomach. “Tell me about it.”

  If he noticed her crazy stomach, he didn’t say anything. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a granola bar and handed it to her. Usually, Jane wasn’t a big fan of granola, but recently, she considered herself a huge fan of anything that semi-resembled food.

  “Oh, you’re my hero.” She started to tear it open. “Wait. Do you have any more?”

  He shook his head but waved her off. “I’m good.”

  “No, we’ll share.” She opened it, ripped the bar in two pieces, and held out half to him. “I’m not letting you starve on my account, Midas.”

  He chuckled but shook his head. “Really, I’m good.”

  Jane lifted her chin and tilted her head in a way that never failed to get her point across with little kids. “I’ve perfected my we-always-share speech. Would you like to waste our time and hear me recite it?”

  “All right, Mary Poppins.” He grinned.

  Every time his smile appeared, she floated for the second it took to absorb.

  He held out his hand. “Since you insist.”

  “I do.” She set half of the granola bar in his palm. He inspected the half of the bar, which was little more than a mouthful. “I don’t think this is going to make much of a difference.”

  “I don’t care. It’s yours and we share.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He popped the piece into his mouth whole.

  They chewed in silence and then sipped from the canteen. Chance checked their location and his compass, nodding that he was pleased with their progress. Then, off they went as the sun rose higher and her feet felt heavier.

  With no shade or cloud cover, Jane stayed close behind Chance, using his body as a shield from the sun. But as large as he loomed, it didn’t help much.

  She wondered how people around here wore so much clothing. How could Chance manage, wearing a uniform and body armor? Jane was sure she would melt into the dusty ground at any moment. “How long can the human body last without water?”

  “There’s a depressing question.”

  “Not an answer,” she panted. “Though I appreciate you said something.”

  He snickered, then added, “I didn’t expect you to be like this.”

  “Like what?” He’d thrown around a saccharine Mary Poppins enough to give her a toothache. Had he expected her to be more like a princess? Weak and pathetic?

  “To be this entertaining.” He shrugged and looked the opposite direction. “I thought someone on a billionaire’s staff would be a hoity-toity snot.”

  “What?” She balked. “Why?”

  “You were a little hard to read at first,” he said. “But you’ve mellowed.”

  “I’m trying not to die.”

  He laughed. “And doing a bang-up job. Keep it up.”

  “On that note, I need a break.”

  Chance stopped. “Sure.”

  She leaned over and rested her hands on her knees. “Tell me something right,” she flipped her wrist, not bothering to snap, “now.”

  Chance crossed his arms and waited until she looked up before he said, “I projected the Thanes’ worst qualities onto you before I knew you. Sorry for that.”

  She smiled. “That’s okay. I might’ve made assumptions about you, too.”

  “Oh, yeah? Something to do with Hercules?”

  “Ha.” Once again, Jane’s cheeks flushed. She prayed that her toasty sunburn would cover the way she continued to blush. “Nothing, really.”

  He adjusted the length of fabric she’d laid over her shoulders to protect her skin. “Now I want to know.”

  Her skin prickled under his touch. His calloused palms were painstakingly gentle over her skin. Whatever she might’ve said floated from her mind as his hands drifted over her biceps, inspecting the sunburn he tried to cover.

  “What’d you assume?” he pressed.

  “I would’ve guesses you were a rigid warmonger.”

  He smirked. “I’m not?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “A warmonger?” Chance crossed his arms, amused. “Nope. You’ll have to clue me in.”

  Way to go, foot-in-mouth syndrome. “It just seems like only a specific personality type would want to work in these conditions.”

  “What are you talking about?” He winked. “This place? It’s like working at the beach.”

  Jane laughed, then added, “I didn’t spend a ton of time thinking about you, anyway.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t.” She elbowed him. “Cocky.”

  “Better than a rigid warmonger.” Chance reached for his pack and handed her the canteen.

  She tilted it to her mouth, taking only enough to wet her lips and alleviate her dry throat. She handed him the canteen, and Chance capped the top and stowed it in his pack. She worried he wasn’t drinking enough.

  With a tilt of his head, he signaled it was time again. They walked with their arms brushing, occasionally reassuring her they were still alive. She couldn’t have done any of this without him. “I know it’s your job…”

  He watched her for a beat, waiting, as they walked toward the never ending see of sand.

  “But I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  Chance chuckled, dropping his chin with a small shake of his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ve had years of training.”

  “I mentioned that I’d made an assumption about you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Truth is…” She mopped her forehead with a swath of fabric. “My assumptions were more about me.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He shook his head. “Who doesn’t think they can handle a marathon walk in a triple-digit sandbox after escaping captivity?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “What? That’s what happened.”

  Jane marveled at how well Chance put the ordeal into a few tiny words. Maybe she was too tired to do anything more than live in the moment. “I assumed I was strong enough to take care of myself and Teddy.” She wiped sand off of her lips. “In any situation.”

  “Like a weekend in Syria,” he muttered.

  “You’re missing my point.”

  “I don’t think I am, Mary Poppins.”

  “I’m not the kind of person who needs a white knight to come in and save me. But I was wrong.”

  Chance stepped in front of her. His brow knitted. “So, in this scenario, I’m the white knight?”

  Her eyes rolled. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you heard?”

  His lips curled impishly. “Yup. Chance Evans, White Knight. At your service.”

  “Nothing about my philosophical struggle with my mortality,” she deadpanned.

  “Oh, yeah. I he
ard that too.” He took a half-step closer until his boots were toe-to-toe with her worn out sneakers. Chance slipped his hands under the fabric shawl she’d draped over herself and rested his palms on her sun-tender shoulders.

  Jane waited for him to speak. Sand blew over their feet, and her chin dropped. She watched the light grains slide over his dark boots. She hadn’t meant to sound pitiful, and she hadn’t been hoping for a pep talk. Shame nipped in her chest. They’d stalled because of her pitiful ramblings. She tilted her head back, and damn, the way he looked at her.

  A subtle red hue colored his deep tan skin. His stubble had thickened, and his blue eyes, intensely powerful, were like watching the cold, churning ocean. No one had ever looked at her the way he did now, full of belief and certainty. “What?”

  His fingers curled into her skin. Tension ticked in his jaw. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he pulled a long breath—then Chance stepped away. He cupped a hand over his forehead, shielding his gaze, then just as abruptly turned back.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  With a sardonic laugh he shook his head. “Let’s forget for the moment that you were the one who sacrificed yourself on the ledge for Teddy with the helicopter.” Chance pressed his lips together, then added, “And, I’m not going to mention how hard you’re being on yourself.”

  “So, you’re not mad at me?” she asked again.

  With a quick head tilt, he started them on their never-ending journey. “I never wanted to be someone’s white knight before. But coming from you, Jane, it’s a goddamn honor.”

  She faltered.

  He stopped. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “No.” Her whisper barely made it beyond her lips.

  His nostrils flared, quietly snorting. “Of course not.”

  Chance turned away. She grabbed his arm. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re nothing like I ever imagined—” His laughter broke the tension, and he patted her hand like someone who needed to placate a toddler. “I’m just glad you’re not some clueless lady living the high-life, courtesy of some asshole who likes to see himself go viral.”

  Whatever she’d felt between them a dozen yards ago was gone. Or maybe it wasn’t really there. She took an unsteady breath—and caught the way she smelled; it was miles from pleasant.

  Chance led the way, unfazed. For a moment, she thought there had been a buzz of attraction, some wayward blip of chemistry. But what was she thinking? Jane watched him truck over the sand. Her fingers swept over her cheeks and temples, wiping the sand and sweat into her dirty hair. Whatever she’d thought she’d felt between them, one thing was clear: This man was not attracted to her.

  He turned to look over his shoulder. “You coming, MP?”

  Yeah, there wasn’t a single storm darkening in his eyes. No churning oceans. No cool, cobalt breezes. Her ability to differentiate fact from fiction had now been called into question. She held a thumb up, not trusting herself to talk, and then hurried to fall in line.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Chance stopped and turned. He acted as though he’d heard someone call his name. Jane didn’t hear anything new. “What?”

  He didn’t answer. Of course. She peered across the bleak landscape. Maybe he’d spotted a new challenge to defeat. Something to keep his spirits up, like a rattlesnake or landmine.

  Chance shielded his eyes and searched the sky. Jane’s stomach knotted as his intense focus tightened. Then she heard it, too—a faint beat. Her spine stiffened. The sound grew louder, lower. Helicopter blades? Her heart jumped. Rescue.

  “Piece of cake.” He opened his pack.

  Jane shrieked, then pointed. “There! I see it!”

  “Good eyes.” He extracted a small canister and ripped a pull-tab off. Bright red smoke hissed free. “I told you we’d be fine.”

  Chance waved the smoke signal, and Jane waved her arms.

  He laughed. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” She wanted to drop to her knees and thank God—and she wanted to kiss her white knight. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing with everything she had as they watched the helicopter in the distance change course and move their way.

  A sudden, painful realization hit her like an avalanche. This was it. Their journey was over. Would she see Chance again?

  After an eternity spent searching for their rescue helicopter, it suddenly seemed to arrive too fast. The blades displaced the air, and it had grown from near pinprick in size to a massive black beast.

  Sand swirled as it descended from above them. Chance pulled her makeshift veil farther over her face and then covered his eyes. “Your chariot awaits.”

  She stole a look at the helicopter hovering above them. Ropes dropped. Chance gestured to a man that hung out the side. She couldn’t understand their hand signals. Looking up and then down again, her balance faltered. Dizzy, she didn’t feel as strong as the last time the chopper had come. Jane gripped his arm. “I can’t.”

  “What?” He ripped the black fabric from her head and shoulders.

  He couldn’t hear her—and he wasn’t paying attention. Did he expect her to hang on a rope? She’d drop off. With rescue in sight, pure exhaustion whipped through her mind and muscles. “I can’t.”

  Black spots scored her vision. She swayed. Her knees threatening to buckle. Jane closed her eyes, barely feeling Chance pull her close, tightening his grip around her like a belt.

  “Jane?”

  She didn’t want to open her eyes.

  His hands cupped her cheeks. “Come on. The hard part’s over.”

  Her eyes met his, then dropped to his mouth.

  “I’ve got you.”

  She noticed the ropes between them, the harness and the carabiners clipped between them. The slack tightened.

  “Good to go?” he asked.

  “Good to go.” She stepped into his embrace, wrapping a hand onto the rope. The harness pulled, and the helicopter rose. Her dirty sneakers dangled, and they lifted higher and higher.

  Jane closed her eyes and clung so tightly to Chance that she probably cut off circulation to some of his important body parts. Days-old stubble grazed her forehead, and the arm around her remained steady and strong as a steel bar on a rollercoaster.

  They swung, turning and jerking as they were pulled to safety while traveling across the desert. She took one last look at where they’d come from, then buried her face into his protective hold. Even as the ropes jerked, his arms never once wavered, and she never felt unsafe.

  She turned from his chest and saw the opening of the helicopter. A uniformed man reached out and pulled her aboard. He did most of the work. Her legs were jelly.

  Jane turned for Chance. He easily hopped in, released the carabiner clip, and met her gaze.

  “You did great, Mary Poppins.”

  Her weak smile barely showed. An overwhelming urge to bawl like a baby clogged her throat.

  “Jane?” the man in front of her said as though it weren’t the first time he’d tried to get her attention.

  She noticed he had his fingers on her wrist as though he were checking her pulse. But her attention followed Chance. He moved to a bench and pulled on a headset. He seemed to be holding more than one conversation between the guy next to him and whoever was talking in his ears.

  A pinprick jabbed her arm. She watched the man, maybe a medic, start an IV bag of fluids.

  He ran through a battery of questions, ranging from who the president was to where she was now. Her bleary vision clouded, and she curled into a ball. The helicopter’s vibrations and white noise lulling her toward sleep—She shot up. “The little boy.” She gasped, and her heart raced. “Teddy. Is he okay?”

  The man shined a light in her eyes.

  “Stop.” She batted his hand away. “You already did that.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “Is Teddy Thane okay?”

  “We’ll update you shortly.” He flashed the pen light again. When
he finished, he produced a bottle of water. “Thirsty?”

  She clutched the cold bottle, taking a greedy gulp.

  “Slowly.” He eased it from her lips. “The IV fluids will hydrate without cramping you up. Slow, small sips.”

  She obeyed, taking small drinks as instructed until his scrutiny waned, and gave him the okay to check her over.

  Chance slid onto the bench next to her, bottle of water in hand. “Doing better?” He offered her another one of the protein bars that she didn’t like.

  Appreciatively, though, she took it. “I haven’t heard how Teddy’s doing.”

  He nodded then motioned to the man hung out the helicopter, pulling them in.

  “Teddy Thane doing okay?” Chance asked.

  The man nodded but she couldn’t hear what he said. Chance fitted a set of headphones over her ears.

  “The kid’s doing well,” the man said. “Cleaned up and playing on his iPad, last I heard.”

  “Thank you—” She realized she didn’t know his name. “Thanks.”

  Chance hopped on the opportunity to make introductions. “Jane, this is one of my favorite assholes. Hagan Carter.”

  Without missing a beat, Hagan smiled, adding, “We’re glad your back, but sorry you had to meet Midas. By now you know he’s the whole ass.”

  “Hardy, har,” Chance snickered.

  She laughed at their banter. Despite where they’d come from, the men surrounding her seemed relaxed, doing their job like this day could be interchanged with any other one.

  Suddenly, she shivered and then couldn’t fight her jittery chill. Days of adrenaline spikes had run their course. She was more depleted than she knew possible, and the warring emotions of fear, gratitude, and fragility overwhelmed her.

  Chance slipped his arm around her shoulder and held her close, whispering that all would be okay. Hagan and the medic faded away, and Jane reveled in his attention. She wasn’t used to relying on someone, but right then, she needed his support. As he continued the low, rhythmic croon that everything would be all right, she believed him for the time being.