Protecting His Own

by Lindsay McKenna

  “But now,” he said, his fingers grazing the top of her unruly red hair, “you’ve experienced the care we extend to our own.”

  Our own. What did he mean by that? Sam gazed at him, the question on her lips. But she couldn’t ask it. She was finding out how much of an emotional coward she really was when it came to raw life-and-death situations.

  “Y-yes, I have. And I feel wonderful now. I feel as if I’ll heal. I was in such inner turmoil, my brain was shorting out. I was having difficulty listening to what people said to me, acting like I was half here and half somewhere else….”

  “You were—and still are—in shock, sweetheart. I’ll be here for you when you want…if you want?”

  Sam saw the question in his narrowing eyes. Did she want Roc to be an intimate part of her life? Where were the boundaries? What were the rules between them? She had no idea. Ordinarily, due to her training, she made black-and-white, logical decisions. Now her heart was begging her to make an emotional decision instead. This wasn’t something to think about, but to instinctually react to.

  Pressing her hand against his heart, the wiry black hair there tickling her palm, Sam said in a broken tone, “Do I want you in my life? Roc, you just saved my life. What kind of person would I be to tell you no after you risked your neck for me?”

  “Saving you doesn’t have a you-owe-me price tag on it,” Roc countered. “You owe me nothing, Sam. What we have…it’s, well, different from anything I’ve ever experienced. Maybe the trauma and intensity of this place is part of it, but I don’t think so. It’s you. I’m drawn to you, for whatever the reasons.” Holding her troubled gaze, he took the biggest risk he’d ever taken. “What I’m really asking is if there’s a chance for us to build a personal relationship with each other. And I don’t want you to answer yes because I laid my life on the line for yours. That’s not what this is about.” Breath held, he watched her eyes. Roc saw fear in them. He saw joy. And anxiety. Her lips compressed, and her gaze skittered to the right, then to the left. His heart was torn up with anguish. Would she say no? Roc knew Sam had that right. Wasn’t what they were sharing now, this moment, the best thing that had ever happened to them? He knew it was for him. No woman had ever made him feel this strong, courageous, protective or needed.

  Her pulse speeding up, Sam closed her eyes. “I’m such a coward, Roc,” she managed to whisper in a raw voice. Opening them, she forced herself to look up at him. His body was warm and solid against hers, like a bulwark. So protective. So loving. “I’m afraid…so afraid…. Brad was a marine. I lost him in a stupid helicopter malfunction accident. And you…God, you’re a Recon. Even a navy squid like me knows that the most dangerous career in the Marine Corps is being a Recon.”

  “You’re afraid of once again losing someone you might love.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Roc’s heart sank. The pain serrated him, gutted him, and he felt as if he were dying. Sam was in his arms, her hair spread like fire across his arm, soft and springy. Her body, long and firm, pressed against his. Did she know her own courage? Roc didn’t think so. He was old enough to understand how frightened Sam was. And he knew now how much she’d loved Brad.

  “I guess I’ve never loved someone to that depth or breadth, Sam, to understand what you’re going through. But I respect it.” Roc gave her a pain-filled, lopsided smile. “I’ve seen enough in this world to know you can’t hurry a wound to get well before its time. There’s a time for healing and for resolving such things. And your fear of losing me stops you from wanting to take that last step toward a personal relationship.”

  The sadness in his tone made her want to cry once more. “Oh, Roc, I’m sorry…so sorry. I’m a coward at heart, I’m finding out. You’re so special, so wonderful to me…. You don’t deserve this, you just don’t—”

  “Shhh,” he whispered, placing his fingertip against her lips. “You can’t hurry things that matter in life, sweetheart. You matter to me. A lot. I’ll just leave it at that, because the last thing I want to do is pressure you. We have time. I’m a patient man.” Roc managed a smile he didn’t feel. Just seeing Sam’s eyes well up with tears rent his heart. “I don’t need you to cry over us, too. Okay?”

  “C-can we just leave our relationship open for further discussion, Roc?”

  “Sure.”

  “Right now,” Sam said unsteadily, “I’m an emotional mess. Tomorrow I’m supposed to go out to the first medevac facility and be thinking clearly. This scratch isn’t going to stop me from working at all. Getting shot wasn’t part of the agenda.”

  “And me pressuring you about us is another thing on your plate you didn’t want or expect. I understand.”

  “I really am a coward, Roc. I know that now. You’ve shown it to me and I don’t like it at all. I want to promise you something. I’ll work on that aspect of myself. I don’t know what the outcome will be, but I want you to know I’ll be trying.”

  Seeing hope flare in his eyes sent Sam’s heart skittering with joy once more. How could she possibly turn down this man, who was more heroic than anyone she’d ever known before? Sam decided she was crazy. On a deeper level, she knew it was about losing someone she loved that prevented her from pursuing something more with Roc. Sam couldn’t admit she loved him because emotionally, she just didn’t have the stamina to deal with his loss, if it came. And in his line of work, especially during this crisis, that could happen in one terrible instant. Sam just wasn’t prepared for that possibility, she knew. But so did Roc. She could see his understanding of her clearly in his shadowed blue gaze.

  “If I come to you,” she whispered, “and I need to be held for just a little while…”

  “Just ask. I’ll be there for you.” Roc meant every word of it with his heart and soul.

  “And if you…” Sam touched the hardening line of his mouth with her fingertips “…need to be held, you can come to me. Okay?”

  “We’ll do what we can for one another when the time comes,” Roc agreed quietly. Sam was trying, and that made happiness thrum through him. He saw the grit in her eyes, saw the fear in them and realized that she was a fighter deep down. Hope sprang to life in him, bright and burning. “Time heals all things,” Roc told her. “Maybe what we need is time together, with no expectations or pressures on one another. I can live with that. Can you?”

  “Yes,” Sam quavered. “Yes, I’d like that, Roc.”

  Chapter 14

  February 7: 1130

  Sam tried to gather her unstable emotions. It was near noon, the sky a bright, pale blue, the sun making the temperature on this early February day climb into the sixties. Clad in her white lab coat, with her stethoscope around her neck, she left the main medevac tent, where the level of noise, the babble of people waiting for treatment, was making her raw and jumpy. She needed a moment alone to get herself together.

  Stepping outside, she looked across the hilltop, now dotted with tents. Their first medevac site was up and running. At the other end, as far as possible from the tent city, a Navy Sea Stallion helicopter was being unloaded. Her heart sped up as she spotted Roc at the opening, clipboard in hand. Ammunition resupply for his team as well as the other marines was on this helo, and he had to check over the contents and sign for them.

  Moving away from the tents toward the edge of the slope, Sam wrapped her arms around herself and hung her head. Her mind was spinning. She was still in shock over being wounded, and noise bothered her more than usual. Knowing it was a post-traumatic stress disorder symptom, Sam took a walk along the edge of the hill. Below her stretched rows of tightly packed suburban houses, all destroyed.

  The wind played gently with her hair. As she lifted her left hand, a twinge of pain stabbed her arm. She’d received ten stitches where the bullet had grazed her. Today, at least, she could lift it, so that was a good sign. Still, as she brushed her hair from her cheek, the pain was a constant reminder that someone out there had enough hatred inside to try and kill her.

  Sam knew that Sergeant Simm
ons was supposed to shadow her every movement. Roc was worried about the Diablos, and he’d ordered his sergeant to be with her at all times. He expected reaction from the gang because one of their main lieutenants had been captured. Well, Sam hated the idea of a bodyguard, so she’d sent the sergeant on a mission to another tent to get more IVs, then had slipped out the rear door of the main tent just to be left alone for a few minutes. Nothing was going to happen here. There were more than a hundred people waiting in line to be taken care of this morning as the medevac opened its doors officially for business to serve the beleaguered community. The people were grateful and anxious, carrying their sick children and babies in their arms, hoping for help.

  Roc… her heart whispered. Sam faced the sea of ruined houses as her thoughts gently turned to him once more. A minute didn’t go by, since she’d awakened early this morning and started walking with her team the three miles to the medevac site, that she didn’t replay some part of Roc’s conversation from last night, when he’d held her so protectively in his arms.

  Facing northward, feeling the warmth of the sun, Sam closed her eyes and relished the joy moving through her like a river of heat and promise. She loved Roc. It was that simple and that complicated. Why couldn’t she get past her fear of losing him? Oh, why was she such an emotional coward? This morning, as she’d walked with him at her shoulder, he’d proved to be a model of restraint. Roc had promised he wouldn’t pressure her, and he’d acted as if last night had never happened. Except Sam saw the warmth and welcome in his blue eyes as he met her hesitant gaze. And when in the grayness and chill of the dawn, one corner of his mouth had curved faintly in a smile meant only for her, she had shyly smiled back. In that moment, Sam knew Roc loved her. And she loved him.

  In a quandary, Sam headed down the embankment, which was riddled with cracks and crevices from the earthquake. She needed to walk and think. Lin and her team, along with the other medical staff flown in to take care of this site, could handle the patients for fifteen minutes. Reaching the bottom of the hill, near the first row of flattened houses, Sam turned east. She would go around the base of the hill, then back up to the clinic, she decided.

  “Hold it!”

  Sam froze when she heard the snarling growl of a man’s voice right behind her. Gasping, she started to turn.

  Seconds later, a hand gripped her left shoulder, jerking her around. Pain shot through her arm—a pain so intense that Sam’s knees nearly buckled. A cry tore from her lips as the barrel of a gun was jammed against her temple.

  “Don’t move, bitch. You’re coming with us. Now.”

  February 7: 1230

  “Captain Gunnison! Captain Gunnison!”

  Roc had just signed off for the shipment of ammo from the helicopter loadmaster. He turned, hearing Sergeant Simmons’s urgent voice raised in alarm. The Recon marine was running toward him, his face etched with worry, his M-16 in his left hand. Intuitively, Roc knew it had to do with Sam. Handing the loadmaster the manifest, he spun on his heel and started toward Simmons. Heart pounding, Roc saw the anguish in the sergeant’s eyes as he skidded to a halt.

  “What is it, Buck?” he asked grimly.

  “Cap’n, Dr. Andrews is gone! She asked me to get IVs from another tent next to where she was working…and when I came back, she was gone.” Trying to catch his breath, Buck turned and pointed north. “I was lookin’ all over for her when a nurse told me she sneaked out for a breath of fresh air. I followed her footsteps, sir.” Gulping, Buck grimaced. “Sir, she was by herself. I’m sorry….”

  “Well, where is she?” Roc demanded tightly.

  “We don’t know. I followed her footprints. They lead over the northern edge of the hill and down to the flats below. There appeared to be a scuffle. Her footprints are mixed with, I’d say, about three men’s shoe prints.”

  “Damn!” Roc snarled, and he tore off at a dead run, the sergeant at his side. Fear ate at Roc as they moved swiftly across the hilltop. When they arrived at the edge, he saw several young boys scrambling up toward them, fear in their faces.

  “Hey!” a red-haired twelve-year-old called out to them, “Dr. Andrews has been kidnapped!” He jabbed his finger toward a street that was now empty of people. “They took her thatta away!”

  Leaping off the lip, Roc skidded and slid down the slope, dust billowing behind him. Buck wasn’t far behind. They headed straight toward the kids, who were clearly frightened.

  “Tell me what you saw,” he ordered them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  A blond-haired boy with blue eyes, around age thirteen, stepped forward. “Sir, Dr. Andrews took care of me, so I know what she looks like. We were playing with a soccer ball over there, near my parent’s house. We saw her walking.”

  “She was alone?”

  “Yes, she was. Like she was thinking a lot about something. She walked down the hill right here, and when she started to go around the hill bottom, these three men leaped out from behind that house over there—” he pointed to one leaning crookedly but still erect, its red roof tilted “—and grabbed her.”

  “Who were they?”

  “I dunno. I bet Diablos, though, sir.”

  Roc cursed softly. “Did you recognize any of them? Can you be sure they were Diablos?”

  The blond-haired boy shrugged. “They were carrying rifles, sir.”

  “And what about Dr. Andrews? Did they hurt her?”

  “She put up an awful fight. The man with the black hair, the tallest of them, hit her in the arm, and we saw blood all over her sleeve. She went down on her knees, but they forced her back up to her feet. They took her this way, down Mount Baldy Street, sir.”

  “And then where?”

  “I don’t know,” the kid said worriedly. “It looked like they turned left at the end of it, onto Holyoke Avenue.”

  “How long ago?” Buck demanded tightly.

  “Gosh, not more than a few minutes ago…”

  Roc turned and pressed the radio attached to the epaulet of his jacket. The Sea Stallion was preparing to lift off. Radioing the pilot, he asked him to fly in that direction to try and locate the Diablos and Sam. Though his heart was shredding with fear, Roc forced all his emotions away. He had to think clearly! Next, he placed a call to his team to meet him immediately.

  Lifting his head, he saw another group of kids appearing at the end of Mount Baldy Street. They were running as hard as they could toward them. If he read the expressions on their faces correctly, they’d probably seen Sam and the gang members. Hope threaded through him as he heard the marine helicopter wind up for takeoff. Maybe, just maybe, with the help of the pilots and these kids running toward them, they could find the Diablos—and Sam—before it was too late.

  “Now, honey, you’re gonna go in there and treat my little girl, Jolie, and my wife, Nannette. You understand?”

  Sam stood between two armed Diablo guards, both of whom were glaring down at her. She was gasping for breath after the brutal run they’d dragged her on. One of the men, tall and red-haired, gripped her left arm so tightly that the pain was nonstop. Trying to fight off her captors, Sam had instantly torn all the stitches closing her wound, and it had begun to bleed profusely once again. Glaring up at the leader, a man named Steve—who towered over her, his pistol pointed at her forehead—she felt faint with pain. She heard his men also call him Snake. It was a worthy name for him as far as she was concerned.

  Rage surged through her as she met his narrowed black gaze. “You have no right kidnapping me, you—”

  “Shut up, bitch.” Steve scowled, breathing hard from their run. He jabbed the barrel against her temple once again. “You have no rights. You work for that lousy government that we don’t recognize. You’re our prisoner. You’re also a doctor. We need you to work on our people. Now—” he smiled a little as he wiped his sweaty brow “—you can either do that or I’ll put a bullet through your head here and now.”

  They stood in a littered, dirty room inside a house that
was leaning to one side due to the damage from the quake. Sam had no idea where they were; they’d been running for what seemed an hour. She’d lost all sense of direction because the men had taken her down a jigsaw puzzle of streets and avenues and alleys. Several times they’d hid in destroyed homes as a marine helicopter buzzed low overhead. Once the helo flew by, the men would yank her out of the house and continue their broken run for an unknown destination.

  Breathing hard, Sam glared at Steve. “I’m a doctor. I’ll treat anyone who is sick. You didn’t have to ask at gunpoint.”

  Removing the gun, he smiled more broadly. “That’s better, bitch. Joey? Take the doc to the bedroom.” His dark gaze swung back to Sam. “You either save ’em or yore dead. Hear?”

  Trying to steady her breathing, Sam nodded and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

  “Good girl.”

  Joey, the red-haired guard, yanked her to the right.

  “Ow!” Sam jerked her arm free. “Dammit! That hurts!”

  Steve laughed. “Joey, take her to my family. Tom? You keep guard on the door. Joey, you make sure she has what she needs to treat ’em, hear?”

  “Yes, sir, I will,” Joey promised solemnly.

  Pressing her hand over her bleeding arm, Sam followed them down the darkened hall. Gazing around furtively, Sam tried to figure out how to escape. Her legs were wobbly from the long, enforced run. Her breathing was raspy and her lungs were burning from exertion. She knew this situation was all her fault. She should never have left the medevac complex without a guard. Roc wouldn’t know where she was. Heart plummeting with regret over her carelessness, Sam followed Joey down a hall littered with broken chunks of drywall that had fallen from the ceiling during the quake.

  Once inside the dim room, Sam saw a woman with blond hair in a large queen-size bed, a little girl, dark-haired and about six years old, in her thin arms.

  “Nannette, we got ya a doc,” Joey said proudly as he pushed Sam inside. “Yore gonna be okay, Nanny. You and yore young’un.”