Marc and Dog

by Angela White

  “We have a love-hate thing going on,” Marc explained, yawning. He slowly sat up, taking stock of his soreness and the camp that had been reset. There were no bodies in sight. “We’re still here?”

  “Yeah, about that,” Crisp began, motioning toward the other side of the camp. “EMS would like to check you out. They’ve been waiting patiently.”

  Marc groaned, taking in the second, larger camp of medics who all looked cold and impatient. In the corner of that area was a small tent that Marc instantly recognized. “Palmer came out? Ah, hell.”

  “He wasn’t happy when we made him wait,” Trippy teased. “He said if you weren’t up at sunrise, he would shoot the wolf himself.”

  Marc realized Dog hadn’t let anyone near him while he was unconscious. “Good boy.”

  The wolf licked Marc’s arm once, then put his huge head back on the alpha’s leg where the fur was missing. I want to go home.

  Marc felt that as if the animal had spoken. “Okay.”

  He pushed himself onto his hurting feet, not surprised when the wolf stayed on his heels. They were bonded now, even if neither of them wanted it.

  Marc tried not to limp as he walked to the small medical crew. The three men and women were now watching him and the wolf in surprised curiosity. They were out of place here–too white in all the green and grey–but Marc was glad to have them. He currently had several injuries causing discomfort in varying degrees. The worst, oddly enough, was his shoulder where he’d landed after breaking through the window. He was fairly certain that he had huge bruises and scrapes there.

  The wolf remained at his side, flinching or snapping at anyone who tried to touch his fur, but he didn’t attack when they started working on Marc. It was as if he understood that Marc needed help.

  Not certain how much control he now had over the big animal, Marc motioned toward a canteen of water while they took his blood pressure and temperature. “Can I have that?”

  Amira, according to her nametag, handed Marc the canteen with a quick smile as she waited for the thermometer to beep. She recorded the number on a small chart and then held up a capped needle. “We’ll start with this. Once you’re all drugged up, I can do anything I want.”

  Instead of laughing at the joke, Marc frowned. Her hot gaze going over his abused skin was giving him the creeps for some reason. She’s odd.

  Amira tried again, smiling generously. “I’ll be nice if you are.”

  Marc shrugged, pushing his filthy sleeve up. “That might be the easiest poke I’ve ever been offered.”

  Amira flushed at his crude joke as Marc’s men sniggered. They thought they understood. The medicos always wanted to flirt at the wrong time.

  Embarrassed, the brunette jabbed the needle into Marc’s big arm.

  Marc chose not to ask for her number despite the sense that the sex might be great. He had dealt with vengeful females, but he’d also had the passive kind. Out of the two, passive was easier to walk away from when he was done. Those aggressive types liked to create bonds that lasted forever.

  “Sorry,” Marc murmured as the woman leaned in to begin checking his injuries. Amira was dusky, with mocha skin and ebony eyes. Marc was willing to bet she was a crossway breezer as well, but he didn’t intend to verify that.

  She didn’t respond, sensing his apology wasn’t an encouragement.

  Smart, Marc thought. He motioned to the wolf. “Here. Have a drink.”

  The clear liquid flowing onto the ground got Dog’s attention, but he refused to drink from it. Instead, Marc was forced to cup his hand and let the animal slake his thirst that way. Their audience was impressed.

  Marc was convinced. He would return the wolf to his home, let him take his chances with the rangers now that Bubba had been taken down a peg. He had no right to keep the animal.

  “You need to be in the hospital for a few days. They’ll give you some blood, among other things,” Amira stated as she stood up to write down her findings. “Multiple stabs, bullet trims, cuts. Broken finger, badly strained shoulder. Dehydration, a bit of sunstroke. Possible concussion–”

  “Will I die if I don’t?” Marc interrupted the recital. He didn’t want a dustoff. Being flown out by medical evac would officially make this the worst home time he’d ever had.

  Realizing he was another of those stubborn males that she was always treating covertly, Amira shook her head, softening. “I would prefer a CT of your head, but no. None of the injuries are life threatening. However, someone needs to keep track of that concussion. It appears that you’ve taken multiple blows.” She gave Marc’s CO a stern stare, arms crossing over her ample chest. “I won’t sign a release for him like this.”

  “Local hotel has rooms,” Kenn suggested casually, reminding the entire team of their recovery time in Jamaica. None of them laughed to give it away.

  “Four days, minimum,” Amira insisted, drawing small smirks and snickers that were quickly hidden.

  “I’ll handle it,” Captain Palmer stated in a gravelly voice that always reminded his men of a tank crushing the skulls of their enemies.

  All amusement stopped, hopes fell. The boss wasn’t happy...was he? The Captain was also a hard-ass. Their training and first deployments had shown them that he was not someone to be trifled with.

  “I see you’ve made friends,” Captain Palmer commented as the medics stitched, wiped, and bandaged. The wolf watched him mistrustfully, feeling the tension.

  “Yes, sir,” Marc replied, automatically standing up straighter.

  Tall and thick, the Captain had earned more medals than anyone in their battalion. He wasn’t afraid to fight as hard as his men did, and they respected him for it. They also feared him a little. Captain Palmer wasn’t friendly. He was serious about the business of war and it showed in every scar and wrinkle.

  “At ease.”

  Marc didn’t relax his stance. “I did try, sir. Three times.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the story from your girlfriend–”

  “She is nothing to me.”

  Palmer stared at Marc. “Because she set you up?”

  “Because she can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” Marc hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, but he didn’t enjoy Julia’s resulting flinch. She was in the front of the ambulance, with the window down.

  “She could be charged.”

  “Maybe she should be.” Marc turned from Julia’s tears. “Dry her out while you’re at it. She likes to drink.”

  “We’ve noticed,” Amira stated quietly from Marc’s feet, where she was examining his leg injuries. “Her breath is almost flammable right now. It’s in my report, sir.”

  “Good girl,” the Captain praised.

  Amira grinned and got out of the way, sensing the Captain wanted a moment with the Corporal.

  “She’s not a bad girl,” Palmer reinforced pointedly.

  “Already marked herself off,” Marc replied stiffly. He hated it when anyone tried to play matchmaker, even for a quick tumble. He was beyond fussy. He was deeply scarred. “Not enough control over her emotions.”

  “Your choice,” the CO agreed, storing the information. Marc’s opinion held weight with him. The girl would go under watch for that issue. Palmer scanned at the team waiting patiently for his approval or anger at their actions. He hadn’t sent them out here to kill on American soil, only to bring their man home safely, but an evil they’d been chasing for a long time was now under control. It had worked out well. “Eibar has been taken into custody. Well done.”

  The entire team expressed relief, including Marc. Palmer’s anger was intimidating, even for him.

  “Since you can’t stay out of trouble, however,” Palmer continued, glaring at Marc. “I want to send you to Quantico.”

  The implication took a moment to sink in for all of them, except Marc. This was Captain Palmer’s way of asking if he’d made a choice about his future.

  “Marc, the mustang!” Jamie blared supportively, even though it would take Marc a
long time to officially earn that title. “Never woulda thought.”

  “How can he become a mustang if he hasn’t taken any college courses?” Kenn asked snidely.

  Captain Palmer ignored the question to hand Marc a rolled up certificate. “Top honors in all classes. Congratulations, son.”

  Marc took stock of the reactions, noting that only Kenn had a problem with it. He slowly shook his head, letting the feeling of their acceptance make the choice. “I don’t want to leave my team, sir. I’m gonna pass.”

  Palmer nodded as if he’d been expecting it. “What if I said you can pick your own team after you graduate?”

  Marc couldn’t refuse that. “Then I’d say I’m honored, sir!”

  Palmer shook his hand as the other Marines came over to congratulate him. Most of them thought they would be on the team he chose. Marc thought they were probably right. Even Kenn, with his nasty attitude, was incredibly skilled and toiled with them like a well-oiled machine. Marc would maybe replace one or two of them, but doubted it would be more unless the others couldn’t keep up with his plans. These men were like brothers to him, even the ones he couldn’t stand.

  The wolf growled warningly at all the congratulating hands on Marc, causing fresh amusement and the men to give both of them space.

  “We have a training program that he could be put into,” Palmer offered. He hadn’t retreated. “You’d follow the guidelines, but keep him all the time.”

  “We’ll see.” Marc motioned angrily toward the ambulance. “Am I supposed to get in there with her? Is that why she isn’t gone yet?”

  “No,” Palmer replied coldly. “She got a call out during the chaos. She’s the reason we found you.”

  Marc didn’t react.

  Palmer frowned, continuing, “She promised to testify against Eibar. She also agreed to give details on several murders in this area, as well as information on past shipments. She’ll be treated gently.”

  “So, she wants to say goodbye?” Marc guessed, amazed. “That’s some nerve.”

  “I thought so,” his commanding officer agreed. “That’s part of why I allowed it. Go get it over with. We’ll have you in a hotel room inside the hour.”

  Marc didn’t argue or ask what the Captain’s other reasons were. He strode to the ambulance window without showing how much pain his injuries (and their treatments!) were causing.

  Julia’s mouth opened, maybe to apologize, but no sound emerged.

  Marc studied the guilt on her face, but he also noted the satisfaction. She’d gotten what she wanted... “Chad is gone and you’ll be taken care of in witness protection instead of becoming a drug lord’s new toy. That’s why you did this.”

  Julia didn’t deny it. Now that this moment was here, she had no idea what to say to the man who had freed her.

  “You could have told me,” Marc stated angrily. “I would have helped you.”

  “No,” Julia muttered, “you wouldn’t have. Not if you knew what I needed.” She twisted away, hiding more tears. “I am sorry that you were hurt, but I did what I had to. Hate me if that makes it easier.”

  “I don’t hate you.” Marc sighed in annoyance. “I don’t understand why you had to do it this way.”

  Julia didn’t look at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. And to say thank you.”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to give me an explanation?”

  Julia clamped her lips together.

  Marc thought about throwing a nasty remark or even demanding answers, but his emotional control wouldn’t allow it. He settled for leaning through the window and pressing a soft, final kiss to her tensed, damp cheek. “Stay away from me.”

  Marc returned to the loyalty of his men without waiting for a response

  “I intend to,” Julia whispered, tears coming harder. It would be a few weeks before she knew if this had all been worth the risk of planting the idea in Chad’s crazy head. If it had, she couldn’t be anywhere near Marc for years or he would figure out what she’d done, how she’d played everyone–including his CO–to possibly steal a child.

  Julia’s hand settled over her flat stomach, body shaking with sobs. She’d never felt so dirty.

  Everyone looked up as a police helicopter neared their location. This time, it was a police chopper taking Eibar to the local jail for processing. His angry face was pressed against the window for a last glare at his target.

  As if they’d planned it, every member of their squad lifted a middle finger to give the drug lord a special salute. It was in perfect rhythm.

  “I hope we’ve seen the last of him now,” Thunder stated as the chuckles faded.

  “Unlikely,” Palmer denied, turning neatly to his jeep and young driver. “He has a rich family across the border. He won’t be home a week before more LBGs are dispatched.”

  Marc realized he would be away in classes. Safe.

  Palmer slid into the seat as the PFC started the low-key jeep. “I’ve heard you want to follow in my footsteps.”

  Marc stiffened. Only Chad and Reggie had heard him say that.

  Palmer frowned at him, glaring coldly through layers of scars. The gray hair starting at the edges only made him look meaner. “What do you want from life, grunt?”

  Off guard, Marc hesitated. “Sir?”

  Palmer tilted his hat back, sighing. “If you don’t know where you’re going, you can’t map out how to get there.”

  “Maybe I’m in it for the ride,” Marc quipped back. “Letting fate steer me.”

  Captain Palmer laughed at him.

  Marc waited, embarrassed, but willing to take the direction he knew was coming. As long as it wasn’t advice to settle down and have a family.

  “Stay away from your past, and ask the question again,” Palmer instructed, motioning to his driver. “You might be surprised with how things have changed.”

  Marc saluted, trying not to show his discomfort.

  Palmer returned the gesture as he left.

  Marc sighed. Letting go of the past wasn’t something he was capable of. He’d spent the last five years trying.

  “Did we get the credit for Eibar or did the locals?” Marc asked, ignoring the distraught female now being driven away in the ambulance as he joined his men.

  Kenn and the others frowned as Crisp shook his head. “Command said we couldn’t go hunting. Heard they sent in a SWAT team to grab him.”

  “Figures,” Marc grunted. “Pricks.”

  The team snickered.

  “What about the LBGs?” Marc asked.

  “Got ‘em all, as far we know,” Thumper answered, handing Marc the bottle of water that the EMS woman had shoved into his hand. He’d pocketed the phone number that came with it. He didn’t mind taking Marc’s place with that one. “Chad had retired military from all over the place. Even saw a Russian back there somewhere.”

  Marc was relieved. Monroe Eibar was an American CIA plant who had fallen for the con to become a true homegrown criminal. I’m glad he was one of ours, Marc thought, aware of the wolf staying at his side. It would suck to think that I risk my life over there just have the same chaos here.

  “Who sold me out?”

  “We don’t know,” Palmer stated. “Our squad had the exact location, but Julia knew your routine. A few other people in command also had that information. We’ll narrow it down.”

  Marc didn’t have any choice but to accept that. Julia knew his routines, but not the locations. Someone, probably in their squad, was a traitor.

  All eyes automatically went to Kenn.

  Flushing, Kenn raised a finger. “I screwed up on the timing and he got trimmed. Don’t get crazy.”

  “We’ll all go crazy if it ever happens again,” Trippy warned without his usual stutter. “Watch your six.”

  Kenn rolled his eyes and stomped over to the EMS crew that was preparing to leave.

  Marc snickered. He didn’t think it was anyone on his team. Kenn was an asshole, not a traitor, but it was nice to have the
team’s support. They would help him punish Kenn later for that screw up on the timing.

  “We’ll sniff ‘em out,” Crisp promised. “We can use Chad’s real death to set a trap.”

  Marc wasn’t concerned at this moment. He’d survived the ambush and one of his many enemies had died. It would be a little while, at least, before the next wave gathered the courage to try. Until then, he had things to do and places to be.

  “Let the locals go on a goose chase this time,” Marc ordered with a grin. “We have hotel rooms to make use of.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shoshone National Forest

  September 16th

  1

  Marc tugged on the new cage until it came to the end of the truck’s thick tailgate. He was where he’d first encountered the wolf nearly two weeks ago, but the landscape was so different that he’d almost changed his mind. The realization that the wolf must have survived wildfires before had convinced Marc that he was doing the right thing. The wolf deserved freedom.

  Marc flipped the latch on the cage and stepped back. “Welcome home, Dog.”

  The wolf lunged from the small prison, knocking it to the ground in the process.

  Marc felt sadness hit when the wolf darted toward the trees without stopping. He was out of sight a second later.

  Marc lingered, trying to give the wolf time to change his mind, but the animal didn’t return. The days in the hotel had been peaceful compared to what they’d gone through in the forests, but the wolf hadn’t been happy. Here, he would be.

  An hour later, Marc finally drove away. He felt as though he’d lost his best friend. Killing Chad, who actually had been at one time, was nothing compared to leaving the wolf behind. It made Marc so depressed that he grabbed a beer from the cooler and put the music up as loud as his shitty stereo would go.

  In the distance, the howling of a wolf echoed, calling to his kind to tell them of his homecoming.

  Two weeks later...

  1

  “Brady! Call!”

  Marc left the classroom with no visible reaction to the announcement, but inside, he immediately began to stress. He’d been at Quantico for two weeks. Had something happened with his team?