“Of course not! Everyone should do what makes them happy…as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
“We can’t expect to go through life without ever hurting anyone, Haley. It’s going to happen whether we intend to or not. Did you know Rafi went to college?”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Three years at UCLA on a full scholarship but he quit to join the Marines.”
“Why would he do that?” Haley asked.
“He said college bored him, and he couldn’t stand the thought of wearing a suit and working a desk. That kind of life doesn’t fit everyone. He joined the Marines because he wants to protect people. I really liked Rafael.” Yolanda’s eyes misted. “There was something with him. I thought maybe when he gets back…” Her lips quivered. “If he comes back…”
“They’ll get through this, Yo.” Haley wrapped her arms around her best friend. “He’ll come home.” But even as she comforted Yolanda, her thoughts filled with Reid. It was true that she didn’t believe in the war, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about Reid.
Later, after Yolanda left, Haley opened her books again but still couldn’t concentrate. His jacket still hung in her closet. She pulled it off the hanger and put it on, shutting her eyes and breathing hints of leather and male musk. His scent evoked the memory of the night he’d driven her home and initiated stirrings of unsated lust deep in her belly.
She didn’t understand why he’d held back that night. She also didn’t know why she’d hung on to his jacket. She could have mailed it back to base long ago but hadn’t been able to bring herself to part with it. Maybe just smelling him made her believe he’d stay alive?
She still couldn’t understand her powerful attraction to him. It was as if they were the north and south poles of a magnet—and just as drawn to each other.
She’d tried to put him out of mind, but every week or two a random message appeared in her inbox. Sometimes it was just a captioned photograph, like the one of him and Garcia fishing at Lake Baharia, a place the Marines had nicknamed Dreamland. Sometimes he only sent a short line meant to make her chuckle. The emails were never very long or overly personal, but just enough to keep him in her thoughts. She supposed it was his way of laying a quiet siege.
Still unable to study, she scrolled through the half dozen emails she hadn’t been able to delete.
* * *
Temperature topped 120 today. With flak & helmet on a sauna would have been cooler. Our mission is to win Fallujah peacefully, but the prospect is less than optimistic. Thinking about you, Haley Cooper. —Reid
Peacemaking with tanks and rifles seems contradictory to me. Thx for the pictures. The mustache doesn’t work for you. Looks more like a caterpillar on your face. —Haley
Spent two days building a soccer field for the Iraqi kids only to have the insurgents destroy it. It’s an uphill battle at best. Still thinking about you, Haley Cooper. —Reid
I’ve been accepted to UC Davis. Heading to Sacramento in a few weeks, so I won’t be here when you return. Should I send your jacket to Camp Pendleton?—Haley
Negative, Haley Cooper. Will collect it in person…along with something else I promised myself. —Reid
In your dreams, Marine. —Haley
Every single night, sweetheart. —Reid
* * *
Over time she’d come to look forward to his messages. The last email had been a photo of a desert sunset with no message attached. Her chest tightened. That was almost three weeks ago. She hadn’t heard from him since.
Chapter 6
Camp Pendleton, Southern California coast
Garcia was sacked out on his rack watching Reid pack. “You going back to Bum Fuck for the holidays?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been to Wyoming in over two years.”
When their time had come up, he and Garcia hadn’t balked about staying on, but following back-to-back tours and all the post-deployment bullshit, he now had an eighteen-month-long promise to keep to himself.
“’Sides,” he added, “seventeen hours alone in my truck is better therapy than any of that mandatory decompression the government provides.”
“You need a hand with anything?”
“Nope.” Reid slung his duffel over his shoulder. “Got it covered.”
Garcia cocked a brow. “You’re gonna drive to Wyoming dressed like that?”
“You got a problem with it?” Reid challenged. Although he rarely wore his dress uniform, he was proud of the fresh stripes he’d earned and the gold chevron that marked his promotion. He was pulling out all the stops. Few women could resist a U.S. Marine in dress blues. He hoped Haley Cooper didn’t prove immune.
“No man.” Garcia chuckled. “I guess you’re taking lessons from me now…along with a detour.”
Garcia was right on both accounts, but Reid refused to comment and headed out the door. Although his final destination was Wyoming, a stop in San Jacinto wouldn’t be out of his way. He hadn’t heard from Haley in months, but his combat duties hadn’t allowed email access. He’d debated calling her first, but then decided the element of surprise might work in his favor. In all likelihood she was involved with someone else by now, but, one way or another, he was determined to find out.
Reid threw his gear in the truck and hit the highway bearing east. An hour later, he pulled onto a street lined with rows of small stucco houses. They looked much alike, but he remembered which was hers. Recon was a big part of his job.
He parked in the drive and climbed out of his truck, taking a moment to straighten his uniform. By the time he approached the front door his palms were sweating. He could run without a thought straight into AK-47 fire, but the thought of seeing Haley made him sweat? Fuck that.
He cursed himself and wiped his palms before ringing the bell, waiting in a parade stance, psyching himself up to engage. His mission was to win her over by any means, fair or foul. He was even ready to throw her over his shoulder, if it came down to it.
To his disappointment, it wasn’t Haley who answered, but an elderly gentleman surrounded by a choir of barking dogs.
“Hush now!” He stifled the canine chorus. Straightening, he slowly assessed Reid from the mirrorlike gleam of his black shoes to his snowy white cap. “Can I help you, young man?”
Reid slowly released his breath. “Yes, sir, I’m looking for Haley Cooper.”
“Are you now?” One bushy brow rose over a pair of sharp gray eyes. “Are you a friend of my granddaughter?”
“You might say that, sir. We have a long-standing acquaintance.”
“And you’re a marine?”
“Yes, sir. Staff Sergeant Reid Everett, Third Battalion First Marines out of Camp Pendleton.” Reid relaxed his stance and offered his hand.
“I’m Bill Cooper, Haley’s grandpa,” the older man replied, closing his hand over Reid’s. He glanced past Reid to his black truck parked in the driveway. “I remember that truck. Were you the one who drove her home when she went out dancing with Yolanda?”
“Yes, sir. We met that night at the Temecula Stampede. She cleaned my clock at the pool table. I’m guessing you taught her that jump shot?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” The old man chuckled.
“Is Haley at home?” Reid asked.
“No, I’m afraid she’s not. Why don’t you come on in, Staff Sergeant Everett. You drove all the way out here. Let’s at least get acquainted. Do you like apple pie?”
Reid grinned. “Yes, sir. It’s my favorite.”
“Good.” Bill opened the door in invitation. “My wife just made a couple of ’em. Come on inside and have a slice.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d love some.” He was disappointed not to see Haley, but recognized an intel opportunity when he saw it. Reid removed his cap and followed, only to be assaulted by a pack of aggressively friendly dogs.
“Down!” B
ill commanded. “Please pardon my granddaughter’s motley crew of misbehaving mutts.”
“They don’t bother me.” Reid squatted on his heels to scratch their heads, giving each its due. They were some of the strangest looking mongrels he’d ever seen, but all responded with wagging tails and lolling tongues.
“Ugly bunch, aren’t they?” Bill remarked. “Haley has a habit of collecting the ones no one else wants.”
Reid stored that new Haley insight as he stood. The house was small but neat and filled with the mouthwatering aroma of cinnamon and spice. He felt a momentary pang of homesickness. His mother and sisters loved to bake.
“Put on some coffee, love of my life. We have a guest. My wife, Dorothy,” Bill introduced the petite woman with a slightly faded version of Haley’s green eyes.
“Reid Everett.” He once more extended his hand. It completely enveloped hers.
She regarded Reid with as much curiosity as her husband had. “You’re a friend of Haley’s?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reid replied. “Do you expect her back anytime soon?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She’s gone to Alaska.”
“Alaska?” Reid repeated. “I thought she was at UC Davis.” He’d been prepared to drive to Sacramento if necessary, but Alaska? “What is she doing there?”
“She’s taken the semester off to participate in some wolf study,” Dorothy replied.
“A wolf study? I thought she was going to be a veterinarian.”
“Sit down, please,” Dorothy urged and turned her attention to the coffeemaker. “Do you like cheese or ice cream on your pie?” she asked.
“No thank you, ma’am, just plain.”
“How about your coffee?”
“Black. Just having it in liquid form will be a luxury.”
Dorothy gave him a quizzical look. “I don’t understand.”
“In the field, we had packets of instant coffee in the MREs but often had to swallow it down dry.” He shrugged. “You learn to make due.”
“Haley changed majors late last year,” Bill finally answered. “She started thinking about it after a summer internship at that wolf place over in Julian. Now she wants to work for one of those wildlife conservation groups.”
“She went to Alaska to assist one of her professors.” Dorothy placed a cup of steaming coffee and a huge hunk of pie in front of Reid before joining him and her husband at the kitchen table. “He’s the one who encouraged her to swap majors, but we’re still hoping she’ll change her mind.”
Reid digested that tidbit as he took a bite of pie. Was she involved with this guy? The pie was delicious, but his thoughts left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“She never mentioned any involvement with a marine,” Dorothy said.
“No. I don’t suppose she would have since we weren’t technically involved.”
Dorothy’s tiny hand rested on his. Her gaze softened. “I’m surprised Haley would have led you astray. She detests the military. Always has.”
“I gathered that,” Reid replied. “It’s an unfair prejudice.”
“She has good reasons,” Bill argued.
“Does she? She told me her father was a marine. I’d like to understand the circumstances.”
Dorothy sighed. “Yes. He was a marine, but we never met him. Don’t even know his full name. He got our Beth pregnant and shipped out. She was only eighteen and not ready for a child. She wanted to abort. We talked her out of it. She had Haley, and we filed for legal guardianship.”
“Where’s her mother now?” Reid asked.
“Up in Seattle. She’s married with four kids. Beth tried to get Haley back about ten years ago, but Haley won’t have anything to do with her.”
Reid shook his head. “That’s got to be a real tough situation for all of you.”
“It has been.” Dorothy’s eyes misted. “We love them both, but Haley needed us more.”
“Everyone needs someone in their corner,” Reid said.
“We just want her to be happy,” Dorothy said. “She loves animals. Always has…sometimes I think more than she likes people.”
“That’s often a matter of trust,” Reid said. “Animals love unconditionally. People don’t.”
“True enough,” Bill admitted. “Haley’s never gotten over her mother’s abandonment, and I think we’ve spoiled her in our attempt to make up for it. I admit we’ve never taken to her politics, but we’ve always tried to stand behind her.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” Reid said.
“What about your family, Reid?” Dorothy asked. “How did they feel about you joining the military, with all that’s happening?”
“My mom tried to talk me out of it, but my ol’ man is from the school of tough love. When I told him my plans, he said the best gift a father could give his son on his eighteenth birthday was a suitcase.” Reid chuckled. “We come from a long line of military men. There’ve been soldiers, sailors, and marines in the family for five generations.”
“Where are you from, Reid?” Dorothy asked.
“Wyoming. My family runs a hunting outfit in Dubois.”
“Hunting?” She gave him a look of surprise. “Does Haley know this?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “It was one of several controversial topics we’ve discussed. As a matter of fact, I’m going home for Thanksgiving. I came in hope of persuading her to drive out there with me.”
“If you know how she feels about the military and hunting, why Haley?” Dorothy asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t rightly answer that. Wish I could. There’s just something there.”
The older couple exchanged a look he couldn’t interpret.
Reid stood. “Thanks so much for the pie, Miz Cooper. It was a real treat.”
“Just a moment, Sergeant—”
“Reid,” he corrected her.
“Reid, there’s a jacket in Haley’s closet. Is it yours?”
“It is,” he said, “But I’ll come back for it when she’s here. Do you expect her home for Christmas?”
“We’d hoped so, but she hasn’t committed yet,” Dorothy answered.
“Maybe I’ll try and talk her into it.”
“Good luck,” Bill said. “She’s a very stubborn girl, especially when she sets her sights on something.”
Reid grinned. “Me too. So I s’pose that’s one thing more we have in common. Thanks again. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
Reid had planned only to spend Thanksgiving at home, but now, unless Haley decided to return, he’d probably stay in Wyoming until after Christmas. He wasn’t certain how to proceed with her after that. Maybe he should just abandon his Haley campaign? He quickly discarded that defeatist strategy. Her grandparents weren’t very encouraging, given their obvious differences, but they didn’t actively discourage him either. He wasn’t ready to concede, not yet anyway. Not until he saw her again. The Marine Corps’ campaign in al-Anbar had been based on patient and persistent presence. Reid’s personal campaign would be no different. Today he’d made inroads by forging a connection with her family. He left with the satisfaction that he’d at least won them over to his side.
Chapter 7
Juneau, Alaska
What the hell was she thinking? Here she was, a Southern California girl, marching in circles and waving a severed wolf paw in the ass-freezing cold. She’d planned to return home before the first snowfall, but the death of several of their study subjects, under the guise of predator control, had changed everything. Chased to exhaustion by hunters with high-powered rifles in low-flying aircraft, the animals had had no chance of escape. And now the governor was preparing to take this travesty to a whole new level by offering a bounty for wolf kills—a hundred fifty dollars for a left forepaw and hundreds more for a full pelt.
Haley had stayed on to join the con
federation of wildlife activists who gathered at the state capital. They’d stood vigil outside the Department of Fish and Game, offering the same wolf hunters two hundred dollars for the paws that they now used as a visual symbol of the slaughter. But after weeks of protests, the governor still refused to meet them or to be interviewed. Adding insult to injury, the media had paid the protest minimal attention.
“How are you holding up?” Jeffrey appeared by her side bearing an encouraging smile and a steaming cup of coffee.
She needed both. Her frustration was growing, along with her fear of losing her fingers and toes to frostbite. She chided herself that the fight against aerial gunning was far more important than her discomfort. And she was incredibly lucky to be working with someone like Jeffrey Greene. The association with him would surely open new doors to her.
“N-not v-very well, I’m afraid,” Haley answered through chattering teeth. “The only people who seem to care are the ones marching with us.”
“The people here aren’t apathetic,” Jeffrey argued. “But they’re feeling defeated. Alaska has already voted this issue down twice, only to be overridden. If the hunting lobbyists had their way, they’d turn Alaska into a giant game park. That’s why we have to stop this now.”
“How? We don’t have money or legislative support.”
“Perhaps not here, but we have other options. We have a strong conservation base in California and sympathetic legislators. All we need to do is prove we have public support and money, and new federal legislation will follow.”
“But how can we do that when we can’t even get any local news coverage?”
“We have to find a way to get national attention. All we need to do is capture this brutality on video and show the world the ugly truth. The documentary Wolves and the Wolf Men led to the Federal Airborne Hunting Act in the seventies.” Jeffrey’s jaw was set with determination. “It worked once before. It’ll work again.”
“That sounds easier said than done,” Haley replied. “I can’t imagine any hunters are going to invite us to go along for the ride.”
“We’ll just hire a pilot and follow them with a film crew. As long as we don’t interfere, we’re still operating inside the law.”
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