Protecting His Own

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Sounds like you had a lot of great support,” Roc murmured. He saw the pain and sadness in Sam’s eyes when she spoke of her father. It was easy to tell she’d had a happy childhood, one where both parents loved and cared for her, unlike his. Roc wasn’t jealous, however. He could see the strength of Sam’s family in her. Her gutsy, confident attitude toward life made perfect sense to him now.

  “When my dad died unexpectedly,” Sam confided, looking down at her cup of coffee in her hands, “I felt destroyed. My mom loved him so much…and so did I. For a couple of years, Roc, I was a mess. I was angry. I was angry at him for leaving us. I was angry at being abandoned.” Her lips quirked. “I didn’t do well in school.”

  “But you moved on? You’re strong, Sam. I see it in you, in so many ways.”

  Nodding, she choked out, “Strength created by hardship. Without my father’s income, we went downhill fast. The savings they’d put away for my college fund—for premed—had to be tapped or my mother would have had to put us on welfare. That was something she refused to do.”

  “So, how did you get to medical school? Scholarships?”

  Sam made a strangled sound. “No…my grades weren’t good enough. I had taken an after-school job to help make ends meet, just to keep our heads above water, so I didn’t study like I needed to.”

  “That’s rough,” Roc said as he watched her face darken with memory.

  “It was awful, but I was determined to make it into premed. Once I graduated from high school, my SAT scores enabled me to squeeze in at Ohio State University. I worked as a waitress at a local restaurant and studied my head off the rest of the time. I shared a house with six other girls who were going there, so my rent was low. Of course, I shared an attic with one of them, and we slept on the floor, but for us at that time, it was like an adventure.” She smiled briefly.

  “Hardship all the way,” Roc murmured, recalling how easily he’d entered Annapolis. He’d never had to scramble or work hard to achieve the goals he’d wanted, as she had. Regarding her with new respect, he met and held her soft green gaze. “You’re a fighter.”

  “Yes, in case you hadn’t guessed that by now.”

  “Equal to a marine.”

  “Why, thank you! What a great compliment! No marine would say something like that lightly.” She laughed ironically.

  Roc set his tray near his feet. “So you made it through four years of premed?”

  “Yes. I managed to get a straight 4.0 average.”

  He was really impressed. “Holding down a job?”

  “Sure. If you want something, Roc, you go after it. I was taught to hang on for dear life. Kind of like a pit bull who’s grabbing on to something and never lets go.”

  “And you took your medical degree at Ohio State, as well?”

  “Yes. And then I joined the navy, where I did my residency. After that, my first assignment was out here at Camp Reed.”

  “You weren’t assigned head of E.R. right away, though.”

  Shaking her head, she finished her coffee and set the cup on the dresser. Taking her comb, she sat back down and began to untangle her hair. “No, I wasn’t. I worked my way up to the position.”

  “In a hurry,” Roc said. As a paramedic, he knew a lot about the medical service. Sam was very young to have been given a position of such heavy responsibility.

  “You’re wondering how I managed to do it?” She laughed and continued to smooth out the snarls in her hair. In the shadowy light provided by the single lightbulb strung up at the end of the tent, she saw a hunger and yearning in Roc’s eyes. He watched her every movement as she tamed her damp hair into some semblance of order. Heart beating a little harder, Sam felt buoyed and scared simultaneously.

  “Yeah.”

  “As I said before, I’m a triple type A,” she said. “I worked two eight-hour shifts for two years straight.”

  Blinking, Roc stared at her, his lips parting. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” He knew what raw strength, resolve and discipline it would take to do something like that. That meant Sam had no life other than her medical world, the E.R. “Why were you so driven?”

  She shrugged. “What else was there for me to do?”

  “Well, for starters, how about a personal life?”

  She heard the irony in his voice. And saw the disbelief in his eyes.

  Resting the comb in her lap, Sam sighed. “Look at this face, will you? I’m not exactly a movie star. In fact, I know I’m very plain. I had plenty of reality checks with guys as I went through college and my residency. I heard the message loud and clear, Roc—a strong, confident woman wasn’t what men wanted.” She grimaced and began combing her hair once more. “I wasn’t simpering and I wasn’t pliant. I didn’t roll over when they wanted me to. So I learned early on that I wasn’t very marketable—not that I cared—as a woman and possible marriage partner. Besides, all these guys wanted was to dive into bed for one-night stands, and I wasn’t made that way. My father romanced my mother for two years before she agreed to marry him. He loved her so much. More important, Roc, he respected her. They were the best of friends. I grew up in a family where the man and woman were equals. I swore I would have the same thing or I’d never get married.”

  “And you’re not going to settle for less,” Roc stated. He could see the resolve in Sam’s eyes, and her fire and mettle.

  “Right. Nor equate sex with love. I knew what love was because of my parents.” She snorted softly and stood up. Placing the comb on the dresser, she turned and looked down at him. “When I met Brad, he treated me the way I wanted to be treated.”

  “He respected you.”

  “Yes. And he became my best friend.” She touched her freckled cheeks and smiled sadly. “He liked me just the way I was. I’m no raving beauty….”

  “But he saw your beauty.”

  Roc’s voice was low. Intimate. Sam stood there, caressed by his words. The yearning in his eyes was unmistakable. Fear walked over her beating heart and stole away some of the euphoria that automatically built when Roc was near her.

  “Y-yes, he did.” Sam patted her heart. “He saw my inner beauty, and he liked my fire and spirit.”

  “I do, too. You have a big heart, Sam. I saw it plenty of times in the past few days.” Giving her an intent look, he rasped, “You’re one of a kind, Samantha Andrews. And I’m glad as hell I know you. You’re teaching me a lot about relationships.”

  Caught off guard by his growling tone, plus his look of undeniable respect, she raised her brows. “Healthy relationships,” she corrected.

  Roc smiled wistfully. He knew he had to leave. God knew he didn’t want to, but he could see the exhaustion in Sam’s face. After a hot meal, she’d get very sleepy, very fast, he knew. “Listen,” he said apologetically, “I gotta go or I’m going to keel over.”

  “I know the feeling….” Sam’s heart cried out in protest, but she couldn’t voice it. She was too scared. There was so much she wanted to say to Roc, to share with him, but it all stuck in her throat as he rose and went over to claim his rifle. Then he turned and gave her a wink.

  “See you tomorrow at 0530 at HQ? We’ve got the third medevac site to check out.”

  Lifting her hand, she whispered, “Yes…0530. Good night, Roc, and thanks—for everything. You really are a white knight in my eyes.”

  Roc felt prickles of awareness all along his spine at her unexpectedly fervent praise. Her voice was off-key and he saw she meant every word. Instantly, joy suffused his heart, filling him with a giddy, reeling sensation. No woman had ever made him feel like this. Not ever. Looking at her across the tent, her hair lying like a red-and-gold cape about her proud shoulders, he smiled gently. “I’ve graduated from mother hen to knight, eh?”

  Chuckling, Sam said, “Yes, most definitely.”

  “Well, I just hope I don’t fall off my white horse and dent my armor.”

  She felt as if he were embracing her with his stormy gaze. The feeling was wonderful, heated, an
d she hungrily absorbed the look he gave her. It was unmistakable—a blend of respect, desire and need. Lips tingling, Sam wished once again that she’d taken the lead and kissed him that morning, while they were in the tent together.

  “You won’t, don’t worry,” she said softly.

  “See you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he whispered, raising his hand in farewell.

  Sweetheart… The word held such promise. And evoked so much fear. Sam stood there, frozen, as he left, zipping up the door of the tent behind him. Alone once more, she looked around. Without Roc’s magnetic and powerful presence, she felt less than whole. Was this how her mother felt about her father? How Sam wished she had a phone right now so she could talk to her mom about Roc Gunnison.

  Moving to the end of the tent, Sam reached up and extinguished the light, leaving the tent in semidarkness. She could still make out the shape of her new bed, however—a real bed! Pulling down the heavy covers, Sam saw that someone had put real sheets on it for her. She made a mental note to thank whoever had taken the time. She had a sneaking suspicion it had been Kerry.

  Sam slowly undressed, folding her clothes and setting them on top of the dresser, then slid beneath the covers. The bed, the sheets, the blankets—it all felt wonderful. What an unexpected luxury!

  Still, as her lashes shuttered closed on her freckled cheeks, she felt guilty. Out there, all around her, millions of people had no beds to sleep on. Most were chilled and cold, while she slept comfortably in a warm, heated tent. Life wasn’t fair, Sam knew that.

  Her last thoughts as she spiraled down into a deep, healing sleep were of Roc. His face. That hard mask that fell away when they were alone, revealing the man beneath. Tonight’s conversation, the personal discoveries they’d shared with one another, had been good. Sam couldn’t understand why she’d revealed all she had. She was frightened of ever loving another marine, especially one in a very dangerous occupation. She drifted off to sleep with that quandary racing around in her head.

  The one thing she did know was that she eagerly looked forward to every day with Roc. It was a time of discovery. Sharing. Laughter. He made her laugh! He wasn’t afraid of her at all. He liked her and she knew it. And yet Sam also knew that every day out here was filled with potential danger. Life was precious. And it could be cut short. The thought made her yearn more than ever for Roc’s touch.

  Chapter 12

  February 6: 0700

  “Well? What do you think?” Will this make a good Landing Zone Echo?” Roc halted at Sam’s shoulder as they stood near the boundary of areas 5 and 6. He was tense, for he’d heard grim reports from a team of marines scouting the area who had talked to citizens on this very border hours earlier. The Diablos had looted one of the camps, killing a man who had put up resistance, and stealing their whole supply of food.

  Sam looked around. “Looks okay to me.” Today, Roc had ordered more marines to come with them—an entire squad of ten men. It felt like an army to Sam, but she understood his worry. The strain showed in his hard face this morning, as the sun edged the horizon.

  It was less chilly today, and Sam was glad. The sky above was a clear, undiluted blue. They stood in what used to be a large metropolitan park. Many of the trees had been uprooted, and the grassy lawns and playing fields looked more like plowed agricultural land due to damage from the earthquake.

  “Looks fine on first inspection,” Sam added. Though she craved being close to him, Sam knew that under the circumstances they must appear as two officers, trained professionals, not as a man and a woman who liked one another.

  Nodding, Roc assessed the row of ruined houses on the other side of the rectangular space, where area 6 began. People were already gathering to gawk at them. Soon, he knew, they would be crossing the field to ask what was going on, and if they had any food or water.

  “I want you to stick with me like glue today,” he warned Sam in a low tone.

  Hearing the worry in his voice, she looked up—and nearly drowned in his dark, intense gaze. Today, more than ever, she was seeing his hunter-warrior side. Roc had been all business with his team, terse and precise. He knew what he was doing, and she was glad he was seasoned in combat. Lieutenant Grayson was leading the other squad, and Sam felt good about that because he, too, was experienced in fighting.

  “I will,” she promised.

  “I don’t feel good about this place….” he muttered, holding his rifle in both hands as he surveyed the area again.

  “Is the hair on your neck standing up?”

  “Yes.”

  Grimacing, Sam nodded. “I don’t know what to look out for, Roc.”

  “That’s why you’re going to stick to me like a Siamese twin. I want you to stay on my left side always. Don’t walk in front of or behind me. Let me be your shield today. No argument about this, all right?” He drilled her with a look Sam wouldn’t fight.

  Seeing her green eyes widen with a flicker of fear, Roc felt badly for scaring Sam. But under the circumstances, she needed to be scared. To remain alert. It was the only way to keep her on her toes, so that if something did happen, she’d react appropriately.

  “I kinda like that idea,” Sam teased, a slight smile curving her mouth. Instantly, she saw his eyes thaw, and then that rakish smile that melted her heart appeared for just a moment before his face hardened again.

  “If I tell you to hit the deck, you do it. Understand? Don’t ask me where or why. Just do it.”

  “I will, Roc—I mean, Captain.” Darn, she was slipping already. In the field, with people around, she needed to call him by his title, not his name. They were standing apart from the rest of the team, so she was fairly sure no one had overheard them.

  “Good.” He turned to Simmons, who was standing a short way off.

  “Sergeant, take your men and stop all those civilians from coming over here. Tell them they’re to consider the whole park area off-limits. We’ve had Diablo through here recently. Make the folks understand that if we need to have a firefight with any gang members, we don’t want civilians getting caught in the line of fire.”

  Buck nodded. “Yes, sir!” he looked at his expectant team and said, “Let’s go, men.”

  Roc saw Grayson coming his way with his squad. The young lieutenant’s face was grim and tense. He, too, was carrying his rifle in a ready position.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Take half your squad and deploy them along the area 6 boundary, over there.” Roc pointed in that direction. “You and whoever you choose will work with me and Dr. Andrews as we measure and assess this place. I want to get in and out of here as soon as possible.”

  Quinn nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, Captain.”

  Roc turned to Sam. For once she was behaving herself and doing exactly as he’d asked. If he moved, she remained on the “safe” side of him, away from area 6, where trouble had spilled over last night. Giving her a cursory glance, he noted her beautiful red hair tumbling around her shoulders from beneath her cap. The collar of her pea coat was turned up to protect her from the chill, but he could see her ever-present stethoscope hanging down inside. How badly he wanted to kiss her. He hadn’t slept much last night, even though he had been dead tired. That intimate conversation they’d shared in her tent had left him wide-awake and half-aroused.

  The urge to reach out, slide his fingers along her clean, stubborn jawline, lean down and brush her lips with his made him groan inwardly. He had to focus on the mission. On the very real dangers that surrounded them.

  “I’m ready,” Sam told him, and she held up the clipboard and pen in her gloved hands.

  Nodding, he looked over at Quinn, who had ordered five of his men to begin patrolling the area 6 suburb adjacent to the park. Roc saw his own men stopping civilians along the boundary, turning them back. Today, Roc didn’t want mingling. Diablo wouldn’t care if they shot civilians while trying to get to the military, he knew. Their leader couldn’t care less who died. Roc didn’t want anyone
injured or killed on his watch.

  “Okay, let’s spread out and get this done. I want out of here as soon as possible,” he ordered everyone, including her team, who would help with the measuring, and collating of information.

  For the next two hours, Sam worked at Roc’s side. She and Lin would measure one side of the rectangular field, record the figures, then look for cracks in the ground. Roc hovered nearby, keeping in front of Sam to protect her from a possible sniper’s bullet. He was putting his own life on the line. Sam’s heart swelled with gratitude—and with something else she refused to name.

  The sun rose higher in the wintry sky, warming the earth. Eventually, Sam took off her pea coat and set it down with her pack, near the center of the field. So did Lin and the others. Sam was grateful when her fingers finally began to thaw. Stuffing her gloves in the pockets of her dark blue slacks, she worked quickly with Lin, completing their side of the rectangle.

  Sometimes, down on her hands and knees as she measured a crevice with Lin, Sam would glance up. Roc stood above them, his legs slightly spread for balance, his rifle raised, on guard. He would call back to HQ once every thirty minutes to get updated reports on any Diablo movements. From what she could overhear, there were none. With the small radio attached to the left epaulet of his jacket, he was in constant touch with the roving squad of marines as well as his Recon team. Nothing seemed out of place.

  But something nagged at Sam as she walked to the last fissure they planned to measure. She and Lin held a cloth measuring tape strung out between them. Roc was up ahead, shielding them. What was the feeling? Sam turned toward her left, area 5 territory. There was suburban housing, much of it in shambles, less than a quarter of a mile away. Frowning, she scanned the flattened buildings.

  Remembering what Roc had told her—look for what is out of place and there you’ll find the enemy—Sam blinked several times. What was wrong? What wasn’t quite right with the scene before her? Slowing a bit, she turned toward the east.

  Suddenly a sharp crack! rent the air.