His to Protect

by Karen Rock

  His muscles clenched as he gazed down at the woman who slumbered beside him. Even puffs of air escaped her parted mouth and her golden hair curled around her sleep-flushed face. He balled his hands to keep from reaching for her. It’d only been a nightmare. That was all.

  Still, the memory of her brave jump into the ocean yesterday chopped him straight in his windpipe. Amazing how she hadn’t been cowed during that volatile, deteriorating situation. She’d done her job well and hadn’t let her emotions get to her. No. Cassie wasn’t meek. She was strong, a fighter. What’s more, she’d rocked his world last night, her passion and the depth of emotion in her eyes mirroring his own feelings.

  And it scared the crap out of him.

  How could he explain that once he’d gotten to know Cassie everything he’d known, everything he’d believed, had been sucked away like someone pulling a rug from under him? How could he tell Cassie she couldn’t risk her life when it would endanger everything he gave a damn about in this world?

  He couldn’t. Not when he could barely figure out where his head was at, let alone his heart. Yet somewhere along the way, she’d stopped just being Jeff’s sister to safeguard and became the woman Mark would do anything to shield.

  He couldn’t make sense of how he and Cassie had so swiftly understood each other, the shorthand observations, the blunt truths and raw secrets. And it had happened so fast, he couldn’t trust it. He needed to get out of here and clear his head before reporting for duty. He wasn’t ready to answer more of her probing questions or make any promises for a future as uncertain as his.

  Cassie murmured something in her sleep and turned, reaching for him blindly. He slid away and stood beside the bed. At the sight of her sweet ass curving out from beneath one of his T-shirts, pain and need and craving pounded through him. It settled so deep in his bones he was afraid the ache would never leave. The pressure of it licked through his blood.

  After a moment, her breathing deepened again and her hand fell to the mattress.

  Good.

  He forced himself to turn away and strode quietly across the room. He pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and grabbed the flight bag containing the extra uniform, gear and the toiletries he always kept ready in his room.

  A blaze of sunshine exploded into the space when he eased the door open and slipped outside. It was a warm tropical noon. The asphalt roadway that curved around the bungalows already radiated heat. Below him the sounds of the calming ocean spelled out the end of his mission and his time with Cassie.

  Remorse rose, sour in his gullet. He wasn’t ready to let her go, but he wasn’t in a place to ask her to be with him, either.

  Jogging down the veranda steps, he stopped abruptly when a club car hurtled by carrying Captain Vogt, a service member at the wheel. Music blaring, the char-grilled smells of barbecues in the distance and the jabbering voices of the resort’s cleanup crew heralded a return to normalcy.

  As for him, his life would never be the same. After yesterday’s near disaster and his unforgettable night with Cassie, he had to face up to harsh truths.

  Was he flight ready after all?

  He marched up the hibiscus-lined walkway, and exchanged a brisk nod with a couple of fatigued-looking rescue swimmers. After a hot shower, he headed to the field hospital. Large air-filled, domed tents rose in the open space. The Red Cross symbol broke up the white and marked the main entrance. Mark bypassed a small crowd of islanders in the intake line.

  “Lieutenant Commander Sampson here to see Petty Officer Holt.”

  Nurse Little approached him and her smile was faintly guarded, like something she had forced herself to wear. She was thin, the kind of thin that came from hard work and long hours; her brown hair was cut in a short, practical style and streaked with gray, and she wore a crisp white uniform that looked fresh, though she’d probably already been working for hours. But her face, as firmly set as it was, betrayed her; she looked exhausted.

  “Right this way, Commander. We moved him since last night and are just finishing up his discharge paperwork. His concussion shows no signs of permanent injury and his arm is stabilized.”

  Despite the reassuring words, the tension banding around Mark’s chest refused to lessen.

  The smells of strong coffee, disinfectant and freshly laundered bedding permeated the space as he strode past beeping machines and rows of full beds. A woman with a bandaged head cradled a young girl who flopped across her lap while her husband paced on the other side.

  Nurses slid past one another bearing medicine, IV bags, dressings and anything else their bulging pockets couldn’t fit. Their eyes bright and determined, they exchanged weary smiles with one another.

  “Tell me you brought my flight suit,” boomed Dylan when Nurse Little halted and Mark stepped around her to his friend’s bedside. Dylan sat mostly upright in bed, his ill-fitting hospital gown gaping wide across his massive chest. “I can’t leave with my ass hanging out of this dress I’m wearing.”

  “Thank you,” Mark called to Nurse Little’s retreating back. He turned and held up his bag. “Got it right here. They say the knock to your head isn’t serious since you were already an idiot to begin with. We’re wheels up in an hour.”

  Dylan’s lips twisted and his green eyes—cat’s eyes, Mark had heard swooning women describe them as—glinted. “Dumbass.” He reached a long arm for the bag. At six foot seven, it wasn’t much of a stretch. “What else did you bring? Chocolates? Roses?”

  Mark tossed him the iPhone he’d remembered to grab last night off the copter. “Play some ‘Candy Crush.’ That’ll keep you busy for days.”

  Dylan lifted his cast. “Good thing I’m a righty or this would really suck.”

  “It already sucks.” Mark raked a hand through his hair, guilt bearing hard on him. “Should never have happened.”

  “Eh. I get a vacation.” After a swig of water, Dylan’s eyes swerved to Mark. “Cassie held her own yesterday.”

  Mark shrugged. “She’s not flying again.”

  “She did a hell of a job.”

  “She’s not flying again,” he growled and Dylan threw one large hand up. Mark had gone through that hell yesterday and would never, ever do it again. The only upside to the mission ending and Cassie leaving in a couple of days was knowing she’d fly back to safe, secure Idaho.

  “Whoa. Slow down, cowboy. Was just an observation.” Dylan accepted a paper cup of pills from a nurse and gulped down his medication. “So I’m flying home today. How about you guys?”

  “A couple more days unless I hear otherwise.” He scooted out of the departing caregiver’s way.

  Dylan nodded. “Then I’ll see you back in the States.”

  “Take care, bud.”

  “Hey. Sign my cast.” Dylan’s eyebrow arched as he jabbed him in the chest with the plaster. “Something dirty that will make the nurses blush.”

  He scrawled “something dirty,” chucked the Sharpie at Dylan and flipped a hand in goodbye, chuckling at his friend’s protests as he strode away.

  Time to make the call he’d been battling since Jeff’s death. He’d fought hard to return to the air, but after yesterday’s episode, he knew he wasn’t ready. Flying without confidence was selfish and dangerous. “So others may live” meant that your first sacrifice might be yourself.

  He and his command boss would have a tough conversation.

  “Sir. Sir!”

  Mark jerked to a stop in the hospital aisle and spied a stooped older man whose broad smile revealed spotted gums. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. Yes. My grandson, Vincent Jameson. He is here.”

  A lanky young man lay on the hospital cot, his eyes half-shut. He raised his hand and then dropped it, as if a puppeteer had cut his strings.

  When Mark noticed the missing lower half of his right leg he winced, rememb
ering the crew member they’d rescued yesterday. Jameson. He’d filled it out on his report himself. His eyes flew back to Vincent. Had to be him.

  “I’m sorry,” Mark began. Vincent lifted his hand and made an okay sign before his eyes drifted shut. A deep line appeared between the old man’s eyebrows, which were startlingly white against his dark skin.

  “Why would you be sorry, son? We are celebrating. Stay. Wait. His mother, Marguerite. Here she comes.”

  A plump woman with closely cropped brown hair hurried up the aisle carrying something in her hand. She looked to be Mark’s mother’s age. Her floral-print skirt swayed around her sandaled feet and her long neck rose from a bright shirt with a stitched flower emblem. When she spotted Mark, her sudden wide smile filled him with confusion.

  After a fast exchange with the older man, she turned to Mark, beaming, and held out a small chamois leather bag.

  “I—uh—” He looked down at the stitched-together top. What was it? “Thank you.”

  Marguerite covered his hand with her own and wrapped his fingers around the soft cloth.

  “This is a Mojo hand. You’ve heard of it?”

  He shook his head.

  The older man stepped forward. “It will bring you good luck.”

  “Blessings,” Marguerite added. “We want you to have all the good fortune that you’ve given us.”

  It was a little late for that, but he was touched. “I appreciate it.” He turned the lumpy bag over in his hand, wondering at what was inside. “How’s Vincent?”

  “He’s alive!” The older man’s voice rose and a few nearby patients and caregivers stopped to look at them. Marguerite shot him a significant look from beneath lowered brows.

  “Yes, but...” Mark’s voice trailed off. What should he say? He had no clue.

  “Last year this time, I lost my husband.” Marguerite twisted a silver ring on her wedding finger, her voice soft. “I have no other children. My father-in-law, Gerald.” She nodded at the elderly man. “He has no other children, either, so Vincent is all we have. You gave him back to us.”

  “You’re our savior,” Gerald stage-whispered, his attempt to keep down the volume turning just as many heads as his last outburst and earning him another glare from his daughter-in-law.

  Mark held back a disbelieving laugh. He wouldn’t minimize their feelings. “Cassie, our flight nurse, and Dylan, our rescue swimmer, are the ones to thank. I was just doing my job.”

  Marguerite’s long nails lightly scraped his forearm when she patted him. “And you do it well. Vincent told us how it was. The wind, the boat going down. If you weren’t there in time...” Her voice snuffed out like a pinched candle flame. She turned away for a moment.

  A weathered hand trembled on Mark’s shoulder. “We are so grateful to you. So grateful for returning him to us.”

  Mark met Gerald’s slightly bulging eyes, trying to summon the right words. And then they came, a powerful rushing release, like a flash flood or a burst dam.

  “You’re welcome.”

  His eyes stung when Marguerite whirled and hugged him. “Please. Tonight. Come to Iggy’s, our bar. Ask William, who works at your resort. He’ll take you. We’re having a party to celebrate and we’re inviting your crew. You’re all our guests of honor.”

  For the first time in days, a heavy weight crushing his chest eased away. He’d considered yesterday’s mission a failure because of the injuries to Dylan and Vincent. And, of course, because of Cassie’s close call. But perhaps he’d missed the bigger picture, not just with this rescue, but with his career. Losses were a part of his job, even heavy-hitting ones like Jeff’s drowning. Maybe one unsuccessful mission or judgment shouldn’t define him when he was capable of doing far more good.

  He’d trained hard for his job and put everything he had into it every single day. Superior officers had recommended him. Spent time sharing their knowledge so he would do his job well.

  Was he really ready to discount their faith in him?

  What if he’d already faced the worst the job had to offer and he was walking away before he used that experience to make more saves?

  Maybe he needed to stop focusing on the losses. Start remembering the gains. The good he could still do.

  “I’d like to come,” he said, his thoughts already returning to Cassie. He wanted to celebrate this with her. If they could spend time together without him reliving yesterday’s nightmare, maybe he’d be able to think about making some plans for after the mission.

  And Cassie would feature in every one of them.

  * * *

  CASSIE WOBBLED ATOP a paddleboard and shoved wet hair out of her eyes. One more plunge and she’d call it quits, no matter how good it felt to be outside on her day off. She was hopeless at this.

  A steady breeze dried the droplets sliding down her back and cooled her skin despite the late-afternoon sunshine. The sparkling light transformed Bolongo Bay’s surface into a brilliant pavé diamond.

  Yellow-striped fish darted in the aquamarine water while orange starfish and conch lined the ridged bottom fifteen or so feet below. Children’s shrieks competed with the crying gulls that swooped and glided over the ocean. Scurrying sandpipers raced from a toddler before flapping away into the fading blue of the sky. At the little one’s bemused expression, Cassie laughed. It felt great to be free. If only Mark could have joined her.

  Why hadn’t he woken her before leaving?

  Had he been called on an urgent mission and wanted to let her sleep in?

  Or did he have second thoughts?

  She dipped her oar and propelled herself farther along the ruffled water, parallel to the white beach. The bay was “mushy” just as the beach rental owner promised, meaning long, smooth waves. They nudged her board up and down and her feet rolled along with it. Falling into a rhythm, she sluiced through the sea and let her mind wander.

  Last night had been incredible. Yet Mark’s guarded answers to her questions made her worry. What if he wasn’t ready for a relationship? His leaving without waking her only strengthened her suspicions.

  Would he want to see her again after the mission?

  When a motorboat hummed by her, she pulled up her paddle and bent her knees as she’d been instructed, anticipating the wake that quickly bumped her board. She rocked unsteadily with the ocean, eyes lingering on the sun as it dipped lower on the horizon.

  The way Mark had watched her, gaze sharp and exquisitely intense, the tender way he’d held her... Deep down, he must care.

  She’d find him later and talk. Figure things out before they ran out of time.

  A parrotfish, its rainbow-colored scales iridescent as it floated nearby, startled her and she nearly lost her paddle. So beautiful. The fragile-looking fish had survived the storm and so had she.

  Likewise, the rental shop on the beach was repairing its roof but back in business. Life was going on—a message she needed to take to heart to manage her grief when she got back home.

  The sun on her shoulders reminded her of one of Jeff’s one-arm hugs. She stared skyward until her eyes watered, hoping her brother smiled down at her. It was still hard to accept his death when she felt like he could call her at any minute, or text her a goofy photo of himself from a mission on the other side of the continent.

  But, at last, she’d made peace with his loss.

  If he were here, he’d be off and racing with his board, not cautiously edging through the rippling water like she did, spending more time soaked then dry. A couple of kids broke the surface a yard ahead of her board’s tip, their dark hair stuck to their skulls. In an instant, they dove again and were gone, their thrashing making her board buck and her feet skid.

  The water closed over her head and her ankle strap jerked her back to the surface. She tossed her arms across the green-and-yellow-patterned bo
ard and treaded water.

  She should have taken the complimentary lesson offered when she’d rented the board, but she’d been in a hurry to make the most of her time off. To live and explore as Jeff had begged her to.

  Funny how she’d thought the field hospital pace exhilarating compared to her father’s medical practice. Now, after flying a SAR mission, she knew she wanted even more. Not just from Mark, she realized, but for herself, too.

  How could she have it all? Her mother had nearly had a coronary when Cassie had announced her plans to come on the mission. Did she dare pursue a real career in the Coast Guard? A smile ghosted across her face as she imagined Jeff’s thumbs-up. Tomorrow, she would seek out Nurse Little and ask about options for her future. She wanted to work with a SAR unit.

  What was more, it wasn’t because of Jeff’s prompting. She wanted it for herself now. This mission had been about walking in his path and following his advice, but now she’d make her own way—forge her own direction.

  Would Mark support her? He’d praised her work on the Sea Monarch...

  Out of nowhere, something grabbed her legs and she shrieked. Mark broke the surface, his hair plastered to his head, already laughing. Her yell turned from frightened to outraged.

  “You!” she sputtered.

  He couldn’t stop laughing as he treaded the water beside her. His boyish expression made him look open and happy and incredibly handsome. The dipping sun reflected in his eyes. Drops of water sparkled on his eyelashes. His white teeth flashed in a broad, piratical grin. Eventually, she gave in and laughed with him.

  And then she noticed his bare chest. Want suctioned her mouth dry as her eyes wandered over his strong shoulders and pecs before drifting down to his lean torso and waist. He stole her breath. She longed to let him hold her up instead of the board.

  Carpe diem.

  He caught her waist and she ripped her ankle strap’s Velcro loose to wrap her legs around him, her ankles crossing at his spine. Suddenly, the world fell away. Bird cries and the sound of the gentle waves grew muffled. Distant.

  “Hello, you,” he murmured as he swam them closer to shore until he could stand. Then lazily, yet deliberately, he tilted his head forward and stared into her eyes, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin beneath her chin where the water lapped. He must have been taller than she thought to stand above this water...