Make Mine a Marine

by Julie Miller

  "He could have done something to her and then changed."

  "Let's not panic yet." Hawk squeezed her shoulder, then wondered if she hated his physical touch as much as she despised his extrasensory contact. He pulled away and primed himself to do what he used to do best. Take the point. Find the objective, then relay the information back to base.

  He'd failed on just such a mission once before, but he didn't see the need to share that information with Sarah. She already had enough doubts about him to dissuade her trust. He pointed to Colleen and Denise. "You two find Andrea and Lynnette, then go back to your tent and stay put. We don't need to lose track of anyone else."

  "But we can help," argued Denise. "Wouldn't more eyes make it easier to find her?"

  In daylight or on familiar ground, that might have been a sensible offer. But there was nothing familiar about the night on Tenebrosa. "What I foresee are more footprints wiping out whatever trail the rain hasn't already destroyed."

  He was thankful when Sarah backed him up on this. "Hawk's right. Find the others and stay in your tent. Give a loud holler if Lyndsay shows up before we get back."

  With a groan that was a mixture of worry and teenage whine at not being treated as adults, the two girls returned to camp. When Sarah stepped toward the fire pit instead of her own tent, Hawk snagged her by the elbow and stopped her midstride.

  "We?"

  "She's my responsibility."

  "You got turned around in the jungle yourself. You have no business searching for Lyndsay."

  She pulled away and made a sweeping gesture around the campsite. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

  "You can follow your own advice." Hawk kept his tone soft and authoritative, the way he often did when advising a patient. "Stay put so I don't worry about you. I need you here to keep everyone else in line. I'll find her as quick as I can and bring her back. I promise."

  Her eyes flickered in the glow of the lantern and she hesitated. Maybe she doubted the reliability of those last two words as much as he did.

  "I know you will," she whispered, surprising him with her humble faith in him.

  Hawk reached out then and cupped her cheek, ignoring her request to keep anything personal out of their relationship. Like a territorial male instead of the enlightened man he sought to be, he cradled the very cheek de Vega had stroked earlier, putting his stamp on Sarah and canceling out the other man's touch.

  He lingered a moment when she didn't flinch away or flay him with her tongue, and basked in the healing beauty of her timid smile. He didn't have the words to thank her for the simple trust, and he couldn't ask her to believe in him unconditionally, but for now it was enough that she entrusted him with this.

  "Stay here," he ordered, closing his fingers into his fist and pulling away, knowing he had to ignore his longings at this moment. "Keep the others safe."

  Sarah nodded and Hawk strode across the compound to Lyndsay's tent. The mud immediately outside the flap had been smushed into a pulp of unrecognizable tracks. Undaunted, Hawk circled the tent until he found what he was looking for—a single boot print, intact beneath the sheltering overhang of a tree root. Hawk allowed himself the slightest of smiles. Barring catastrophe, Lyndsay was as good as found.

  Sarah watched Hawk stoop and touch something on the ground. Then he pulled a flashlight from that curious vest of his and vanished into the jungle. She marveled at his supreme self-assurance, and understood how, as a soldier, he would inspire confidence in the men who served with him.

  His ability to sense her emotions, robbing her of a well-used shield that normally allowed her to distance herself from uncomfortable situations, still unnerved her. But that particular talent didn't worry her as much as his deep-rooted penchant toward gallantry. He was a protector by nature, a man who made restitution when he inflicted a hurt. A man who treated her like a lady of value, a woman of desire.

  Despite her bold, commonsense arguments to the contrary, she craved his touch, whether it was the untamed passion that made her forget who she was, or the gentle reassurance of his hand on her shoulder or face. She could quickly get used to Hawk's protection and kindness, and knew they could become dangerous addictions.

  And how foolish was that?

  She didn't fear him. She was afraid of herself. Afraid of the woman she could be if a man like Hawk cared about her. A woman she would never be because a man like Hawk was too exotic, too male, too powerful, ever to be a part of her real world.

  And she should be thinking about the real world right now, about how she might possibly come up with a plausible speech for Lyndsay's parents to explain their daughter's disappearance, or how she could withstand Walter's condescending I told you so every time she met him on the street in Marysville.

  She'd botched everything on the trip so far. It was high time she got something right. Andrea and Lynnette reported that Lyndsay hadn't gone down to the lagoon. After repeated reassurances that Martin hadn't spoken to them since lunch, Sarah helped the girls move their sleeping bags and had them all bunk on the floor of her tent. Then, restless to do more than hold down the fort, she borrowed a flashlight from Denise and walked across the compound. If Hawk couldn't find Lyndsay in half an hour, then maybe he needed help.

  She approached the door to Luis's tent and cleared her throat loudly, hoping he'd wake on his own before she actually called his name. "Senor Salazar," she finally said. "Luis?"

  Dead silence answered her. She patted the damp canvas, creating a thumping noise like that of a bass drum "Luis, it's Sarah. Are you in there?"

  She shined her light through the net opening. Inside, the tent was totally dark. And empty.

  Maybe the girls' commotion had alerted him to the trouble, and he had already joined in the search. She walked on to the next tent, a larger one that slept four men. "Antonio? Raul?"

  Again, empty silence.

  A shuffling sound drew her attention to the mess hall. She'd heard something similar once at her father's fishing cabin, when a raccoon had broken in and chewed its way through several Tupperware containers. She wondered what form of raccoon the jungle produced. So far the native fauna had been bigger, wilder, and more dangerous than anything she knew back home.

  Sarah's frown of curiosity quickly reversed into a smile of triumph. Her jungle raccoon might just be the sounds of a hungry teenager scrounging for her own midnight snack.

  Metal clanked against metal. Before reaching the entrance, she heard the thump of a solid mass hitting wood, followed by a string of garbled curses. Hardly ladylike, but Sarah had long ago accepted that the curb she put on her own vocabulary was rarely shared by the young women of the next generation.

  She opened the door of the small wooden structure and peered inside. "Hello? Lyndsay?"

  "Señorita."

  Sarah swung her light around until her beam picked up the reclining figure on the floor near the ice chest. Slitted black eyes leered up at her, and Martin de Vega saluted her with an open beer bottle. A wooden bench lay overturned on its side, and she suspected he'd tripped on his way to or from getting his booze.

  He drank deeply, then wiped the dribble from his lips with the back of his hand. "You have come to see me after all."

  "You're disgusting." She spun around to leave and find some actually useful way to spend her time.

  "But I am doing my job well, no?" She stopped at his taunting laugh. "You and Señor Hawk are very busy, no?"

  Sarah slowly turned and forced herself to look at the living, breathing slime. "What do you mean, we're busy? Do you know where Lyndsay is?"

  Her stomach lurched and sank to her toes as horrible images of gang rape and cult sacrifice blurred across her mind. Martin seemed to smell her fear. With an awkward lack of grace, he lurched to his feet and shuffled toward her with that awful smirk plastered across his face. "Lyndsay is the one with the pretty red hair, no?"

  He rolled the word pretty around his tongue as if he could taste what he described.

  "
If you've done anything to hurt her…"

  "I don't like girls." He stopped as if her threat held some substance for him. Then he pointed to her with his bottle and laughed at his own joke. "As much as I like women."

  He swigged another draft and stopped laughing. "I don't know where the girl is. But if you're looking for her, then I don't have to worry about your Indian friend's threats."

  "What threats?"

  "He is very possessive of you, señorita." He draped his gaze over her body, and she fought back the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. "You are full of mystery. A man can find that irresistible. Perhaps I will discover your secrets before he does."

  Sarah shivered, feeling her skin crawl beneath the visual assault. What kind of idiot was she, bringing her students down to this spider-infested jungle to work with boozing, lecherous slime like this sorry excuse for a man?

  First thing in the morning—no, the second she found Luis tonight, she would insist on returning to El Espanto. Although it galled her no end, she had to admit this whole trip had been a mistake, from her pitiful motives for coming in the first place to the frightening danger of what might have happened to Lyndsay.

  Sarah pulled her shoulders back and turned up her nose at the crude proposition. "Save your energy, Martin. I'm not that interesting."

  She walked out, his laughter trailing behind her.

  Sarah slogged across the compound, the mud on her boots weighing her down as heavily as her guilt. She'd been such a fool. Such a stupid, naive fool to think that after thirty-four years of living life as a wallflower she could suddenly break free and experience the adventure of a lifetime.

  Adventures were for other people who knew something about the world. Other people who communicated easily; other people who could spot a dirtbag at thirty feet and know to keep their distance; other people who could be responsible not only for themselves, but for anyone entrusted to their care.

  Adventures happened to people like Hawk.

  Hawk was an adventure.

  And if she needed anything else to point out just how foolish this over-the-rainbow wish of hers had been, then her feelings for Hawk completed the humiliation. Her fascination with such an unattainable man mirrored the futility of her dream to experience life in one grand, glorious finale. She had less in common with Hawk than the tropics had with the dry plains of Kansas. She belonged in this high-temp adventure just about as much as she could ever belong to a man like Hawk Echohawk.

  "Sarah?"

  Caught up in her stew of self-pity, she'd failed to notice Hawk walk into the clearing, framed by a teenager on either side of him.

  "Lyndsay? Thank God." Forgetting decorum, Sarah ran over and hugged her, pouring her relief into the squeezing force of her arms. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

  Sarah stepped back and inspected her from head to toe. Sheepish might best describe the downturned face and expectant expression in Lyndsay's eyes. She was apparently safe, though drenched to the skin, so Sarah turned her focus to the other teen.

  Embarrassment blotched Raul Salazar's tanned cheeks. He scuffed his toe in the mud and concentrated on the ooze spreading across the top of his boot. Without eye contact or forthcoming explanations from either teen, Sarah turned to Hawk. "What happened?"

  "I found them about a hundred yards from here, holed up in a cave. They got caught outside when the rain hit. They were, um…together."

  He spoke the last word in a low, husky pitch. The sound of it whispered along her nerve endings, gathering strength until the significance of that one word settled at the core beneath her belly. "Together?"

  Her lips tingled at the memory of his kiss. Pinpricks of remembered awareness skittered over the surface of her skin. She looked up and saw an answering gleam in the shadowy midnight of his eyes. Had his memory drifted back to that same clearing in the jungle? Could he sense how raw the memory of it made her feel? The unwavering intensity in his eyes made her think he knew exactly what she was thinking. She forced herself to look away so she could deal with the situation at hand.

  Together? Sarah hoped Hawk's definition of together was a chaste kiss and a grope or two, rather than that indecent, unstoppable, clutching, clinging embrace they'd shared in the jungle. The first option she could tolerate—infatuation and hormones were an inescapable part of teenage life. But the latter…

  And to think that someone almost twenty years younger would behave in the same abandoned way…

  Sarah's guilt evolved into anger when it became clear that neither teen had broken anything more than their curfew. "What were you thinking? Making out with him? We laid down rules, and I expected you to follow them. Isn't that what our consensus was all about?"

  Lyndsay's head shot up, her green eyes sparking in protest. "We weren't making out. We went for a walk. We just wanted to talk. And then the storm came, and Raul found the cave. He held me because I was cold. We just kind of lost track of time."

  Sarah glared in silence as Lyndsay's final words petered out. Unmoved, she propped her hands on her hips and passed sentence. "Go pack your things. We're leaving in the morning."

  "What? We just got here. We haven't even done any digging yet!" Lyndsay protested.

  "It's too dangerous. If I can't trust you to do what you're told, then there's no way—"

  "Miss Mack—don't punish everyone because of me. We have to stay."

  Sarah kept her voice steady and stifled the childish urge to argue with the teen. "Go pack your things."

  Lyndsay's groan echoed through the clearing. She stalked off, and her waiting friends engulfed her in a rush of hugs. She gave them the news of their early departure, but Sarah's stern look told the girls that now was not a good time to lodge their complaints.

  Raul stepped forward, beseeching Sarah. "It is my fault, Señorita Mack. I invited Lyndsay to walk with me. I kissed her, not the other way around. Do not punish her for the rain or my intentions."

  "Your intentions? You kissed—?" Sarah turned on him. "I have a responsibility to keep these girls safe. If that means confining them to their tents or taking them home to keep them safe from the likes of you, then so be it."

  "Sarah," Hawk's quiet voice interrupted. "They did the smart thing to find shelter instead of making their way back during the storm. Why don't you wait until you've cooled off a little to make any decisions?"

  She swiveled her chin and met the blank wall of those impossibly dark eyes. With him around, her own safety and sound judgment were as much at stake as the girls'. "We aren't your concern," she bit out, forgetting even to thank him for returning Lyndsay safely or to apologize for her insulting accusations about his psychic abilities. "No one invited you along in the first place. You should be glad to see us go."

  "Not like this."

  She ignored the seductive softness of his whisper and turned on Raul, who watched the interchange with cautious curiosity. "As for you, wait until I tell your uncle."

  "You've seen Luis?" Raul shifted uncomfortably, dragging his fingers through his damp, dark hair. "Tonight?"

  Sarah didn't miss the catch in his voice, but couldn't take time to analyze it right then. "No. But as soon as I find him, I'm making arrangements to leave. And I'll advise him to screen his staff more carefully before he takes another group on any expedition." She relented a fraction when she observed the mature straightening of the young man's shoulders as he accepted his responsibility. "You'd better get to bed, too. In your own tent."

  Half of Raul's mouth curved into a smile. "Si, señorita. Good night."

  She waited for the flap of his tent to close behind him before she risked another glance at Hawk. "You were right. I had no business bringing those girls to Tenebrosa. Isn't that what you wanted to hear? You were right."

  She was halfway to her tent when she felt his touch on her arm. She hadn't even heard him following her. Startled, she jerked against him, but the quiet complexity in his gaze snared her. His hand felt gentle as a cat's paw on her arm, yet the steel be
neath his grip reminded her of a jaguar's strength.

  "This isn't a victory for me, Sarah. I won't lie and say I've changed my mind about the wisdom of your being here, but don't be so hard on the kids. Or yourself. You haven't failed."

  Failed.

  That was exactly what she'd done. Exactly what always happened when she stepped beyond the limits of her meager talents. Her dream had been so simple, really. Just to spend one week out of her life living more fully, more completely than her ordinary existence. Just one week to live her life the way other people lived theirs, with a richness and fulfillment and purpose that filled their empty hearts and restored hope to their empty souls.

  Just one week.

  And she couldn't even get that right.

  With those eerie eyes evaluating her like a big cat's prey, she slipped from his grip and crossed her arms in front of her, sheltering herself as much as pulling away from him. "Is that the psychologist or the shaman assessment of my performance?"

  He braced his feet apart and splayed his fingers over his hips in a loose-limbed stance that hinted at relaxed ease. Yet the piercing darkness of his eyes left no doubt in her mind that he could pounce in an instant. "I'd like to think it's the observation of a friend."

  "I don't have friends like you, Hawk." She turned and matched his stance. "I know the names of my friends. I understand their behavior. Dealing with them doesn't turn my life upside down."

  He stood there silently, the stillest part of this interminable night, unable to find an argument to back up his claim to friendship.

  Sarah nodded, expecting as much. Or as little. "I need to get back to those friends. I need to get back to that life. I thought you wanted me to."

  The unanswering silence stretched on, punctuated by the caw of a wild bird and the screech of an animal in the distance. Sarah stood her ground, matching his obsession with the quiet. Then, with swift, businesslike efficiency, he broke the standoff. "I'll go find Salazar and alert him to your change in plans."