Make Mine a Marine

by Julie Miller

  Without comment, without a wink or a nod or a smile, he turned and strode away. She didn't need any outside observer—friend or otherwise—to point out how foolish she'd been to leave her predictable, secure, maiden aunt-infested home in Marysville.

  She'd checked her thesaurus—the hand-tooled leather edition that Walter had given her for their six-month anniversary. In it, she'd found forty-three words that meant fool.

  And she knew the list by heart.

  "Luis, you work for me, not the other way around. I demand that we go now."

  The morning had dawned bright and humid, and in the clearing surrounding Las Lagumas the sun beat down with a merciless hand. Despite a brimmed hat, long sleeves and a coating of sunscreen, Sarah could feel the freckles popping out on her sweaty skin, one by one. Her normal abundance of patience had gone by the wayside, needing the replenishment of a good night's sleep and the cooperation of her preoccupied host.

  Luis turned on the step above and scowled down at her with impatience. Her charming host had been replaced by this bleary-eyed, sharp-tongued stranger. "I am sorry that Raul forgot his place with your girl. But we worked late into the night preparing the site for you. It will take us at least another day to cover and restore it."

  The girls had accompanied Sarah, hoping for one last look at the tomb before being packed up and sent home. Andrea stepped up beside Sarah, her worn book in hand. "You don't need to cover up anything you've dug. The walls of the pyramid were designed to shelter the interior chambers from any direct contact with the elements. Besides, won't that just make more work for you to uncover it again when you bring the next tour?"

  Luis shifted his peevish glare to the young blonde, and Sarah curled her arm around Andrea's shoulders, shielding her from the wordless attack. "She makes sense. I've never heard of archaeologists digging up something and then burying it again. Not for any legitimate reason."

  He slid his tongue around his lips, licking the layer of dust that turned his black mustache a grayish white. By the time he turned his head and spat, Sarah realized he was reacting to her choice of words. Legitimate.

  A shiver of awareness quaked through her. Either Luis was a greater devotee of archaeology than she had imagined, or he was up to something. She quickly glanced around to make sure all the girls were accounted for. One, two, three, four, five.

  And, darn it all, where was Hawk this morning? Why wasn't he here to back her up? He must be angry with her. She could just imagine him hidden in the trees nearby, watching her attempts to persuade Luis flounder. He was probably so frustrated with her ineptitude as an expedition leader—and as a woman—that he was laughing at her now, thinking she deserved this uphill battle for respect.

  Luis intruded on her condemning thoughts, and Sarah now recognized his old-world charm as a facade that hid a very driven man beneath the sham of manners and culture. "Let me show you what you are asking me to give up by leaving early."

  The girls swarmed past her, eagerly following Luis into the passageway that led to Meczaquatl's chamber. Sarah hesitated at the opening, remembering the poisonous atmosphere that had altered Hawk's personality and nearly suffocated her.

  This morning the tomb was a hive of activity, with men going in and out, pushing wheelbarrows, carting boxes and heavy packs, as well as shovels, picks and torches. She hadn't imagined the miasmic atmosphere inside the antechamber last night. Her fingers fluttered to the sore muscles at her throat. Nor had she imagined Hawk's savage reaction to it.

  Yet no one else seemed to notice any potential danger. No one else seem affected by the air. And now her girls were in there. Her responsibility. Swallowing her fear, Sarah walked inside.

  Unlike last night, this morning the passage was well lit. She easily followed the stirrings of dust and noise and quickly found the antechamber.

  And froze in her tracks.

  Luis and his men must have worked around the clock. Last night a dusty, painted wall had separated her from the burial chamber of King Meczaquatl. Today, a hole had been gouged out of that wall. Stacks of numbered stones were piled to one side of an opening supported by long metal poles. Beyond that, a blinding light reflected off gold and jewels and polished bronze.

  Sarah stared in wide-eyed wonderment at the preserved perfection of a gold-encrusted teakwood sarcophagus, with emeralds and whorls of color defining the image of the dead ruler on its lid.

  "It seems disrespectful to disturb the dead," whispered Colleen beside her.

  The others joined in the mute awe of this once-in-a-lifetime discovery: a centuries-old king and the priceless treasures buried with him, revealed for the first time in eons. Sarah and her girls were witnesses to that history.

  Satisfaction, honor, and a hint of that adventure she’d so wanted sparked in Sarah's heart for an instant. And then she realized what was happening around her, making her schoolgirl fantasy seem like pure folly. One of Luis's men walked out of the burial chamber carrying a sealed wooden crate. Another man walked in with a torch, followed closely by Antonio with an open crate.

  "I thought it was illegal to disturb Meczaquatl's chamber." Sarah raised her voice so that it carried to Luis and penetrated the lustful fog surrounding him as he watched another box of artifacts being crated out. "Raul said your country doesn't allow—"

  "Raul is a boy!" Luis whipped around, and a dangerous fire in his eyes silenced her.

  For a moment.

  "You're raiding the tomb," she accused. "You're violating a man's resting place and stealing national treasures and…" She marched up to him, more angry than she'd been since Walter had humiliated her so. "We won't be a part of this. Why did you have to involve us?"

  Luis shoved her back. She would have fallen if her momentum hadn't carried her straight into Denise and Lyndsay. "Get back! You have been a nuisance from the start. The other groups were much easier to control."

  "You've done this before?" She gasped. "Used innocent people—children—as a cover?"

  Luis ignored her protests. From the corner of her eye, she noticed some of his men circling around them. Sarah pulled the girls in close and faced Luis. "I want to leave. Now."

  "Miss Mack?" Lynnette's breathy voice turned Sarah's attention to the side. Antonio stood in the man-made archway, leveling an automatic weapon straight at the teenager.

  Sarah ducked in front of Lynnette, placing herself between the girl and the gun. "Damn you, Luis! These are innocent children."

  Then she realized how futile her protective show of bravery had been. Four other men, including Luis, now held guns, each pointed at one of her girls. Sarah's breath seeped out of her lungs. This nightmare didn't make any sense. "What are you going to do with us?"

  Luis's thin lips curled into a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I didn't plan to hurt any of you. But I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave now. It's so hard to sell these goods from a jail cell. Martin!"

  Answering like the snap of a military command, the greasy man appeared in the opening of the tomb wall. His leering gaze swept across the women, then landed with disdain on Luis. "Si?"

  "Put them with Señor Hawk." Martín nodded, then wrapped his dirty fingers around Sarah's upper arm, dragging her forward. She cringed at his touch, but followed along meekly when she saw the other men pushing the girls behind them with their guns.

  "And Martín?" Luis's suave voice echoed through the antechamber. All the men had gone silent, awaiting his instructions. "The Indian. If he is awake…hit him again."

  Chapter Six

  The field trip from hell.

  The subtitle for this ill-fated trip clanged in Sarah's head like a death knell.

  Antonio and another man dragged Hawk's unconscious body out to the fire pit and dropped him at Sarah's feet. She fell to her knees, and the girls crowded around while she checked his neck for a pulse.

  "Thank God," she said in relief, feeling a strong, steady beat beneath his smooth skin.

  Then she inspected the extent of his injuries. She'
d learned CPR and basic first aid to better care for her parents and aunts. She quickly identified the contusions and abrasions around his knuckles and mouth. Whatever had happened to him, he'd put up a good fight.

  She was more concerned by the dried blood caked around the bruised swelling at his temple. "How long has he been unconscious?"

  She looked directly at Antonio and he frowned, taken aback by the sharp query "He came to us last night. He was not a welcome visitor."

  "That's an understatement," she muttered beneath her breath, noting the knotted ropes that bound his ankles and wrists together. "How long?" she asked again.

  Martín sidled in beside Antonio, his rifle lazily tucked in the crook of his elbow. But Sarah didn't doubt he or any of the other men would hesitate to shoot if pushed too far. "We subdued him last night. Apparently he was not welcome in your bed and sought out other men with whom to commiserate."

  "He was looking for Luis. We were ready to leave last night." Martín laughed at her explanation. "Hawk had a bad feeling about this trip even before we knew what you were up to."

  "Yes, he is a very observant man." Martin's smile faded. He patted the butt of his rifle. "He tried to escape at about three this morning, and that is when I hit him. He has been in and out of consciousness since then."

  "Five hours," she said softly, wishing a properly staffed emergency room were closer than the mainland. "He needs water."

  She raised her voice as a plea. Dehydration and a dirty laceration were two symptoms she could treat. She could only pray his head wound wasn't as bad as it looked.

  "Stop where you are!" She heard a series of clicks that she imagined must be safeties being thrown or triggers being locked into place. Sarah spun around.

  "Denise!"

  Her eldest charge stood ramrod straight several feet from the group, defying the business end of one of the men's rifles. In a firm voice, much calmer than Sarah's had been, Denise looked the man in the eye and said, "He needs water."

  Stunned by her defiant show of resistance, the man glanced over at Antonio and Martín, clearly unsure how he should respond. Antonio, too, seemed unprepared for this civil disobedience. But Martín took it all in stride. "Get them the water," he said.

  The man scurried off to the mess tent and returned with a red plastic jug of water. Denise took it from him and knelt by Sarah's side. The rush of air in her sigh told Sarah just what that show of bravado had cost her. She quickly caught Denise's gaze and winked. "Thank you."

  Then she reached across and squeezed Denise's hand before turning her attention back to Hawk. Color returned to Denise's cheeks, and she helped pour the water into Sarah's handkerchief. Sarah dabbed at Hawk's wounds. The cut at his temple was small, but ideally could use a couple of stitches for it to heal neatly. Colleen scrounged a bandage from her pocket, and together the three of them tended to Hawk.

  They worked for several minutes, putting aside the threat that surrounded them. But when Sarah touched the binding at Hawk's wrists, her captors spoke again.

  "Enough!" shouted Martín. "Move away from him."

  "Wake up, Hawk," she whispered close to his ear. And then, reluctantly, she obeyed. Sarah stood and pulled the girls with her to the opposite side of the pit, keeping Hawk's prone body in view.

  A truck pulled into the compound and the driver shouted something at Antonio in Spanish. The men surrounding them, except for Martin, lowered their weapons and ran to the truck. They climbed into the back and sped away.

  Lyndsay leaned over to Sarah and whispered, "He said something about getting the last one loaded so they can leave."

  "Are they going to leave us here?" asked Lynnette, voicing the panic that thrummed through Sarah's veins.

  She put her arm around Lynnette's shoulders and hugged her. "I don't know. Let's just do what they say for now."

  Hawk moaned and rolled over onto his side. Even at this distance, Sarah could see that his eyes didn't open. Martín moved toward him, spinning his gun around to use it as a club.

  "Don't!" Sarah jumped forward, pushing Lynnette behind her. "He's no threat to you in his condition."

  Martín rolled his gaze up to her, a curious expression clouding his eyes. "I do not trust this one, señorita. He is not like other men." He blinked and a familiar lecherous gleam replaced his faraway look. "Even you sense it. Perhaps that is why you refused him. But you would not refuse a normal man, no?"

  "You never give up, do you?"

  "Not with a challenging woman like you, so ripe for the picking."

  This man's obsession with sex conjured up familiar memories in Sarah. Ingrained defenses raised their voices in a cruel litany inside her head. She brushed errant wisps of hair behind her ears and advanced on him, heedless of the self-reproach in her voice or the effect she had on Martín.

  "There's no challenge here." She spread her arms wide, giving him a good look at her plain khaki blouse and shorts, and the equally plain figure hidden underneath. “I'm not a swimsuit model. I'm no knockout. And experience in bed? None. I'm not woman enough for you, believe me. So zip your mouth. And everything else."

  "You tell him, Miss Mack." A young voice cheered her on.

  He stroked his dirty fingers across his mustache, apparently considering her excuse for refusing him. "Then perhaps you will learn by watching."

  To Sarah's horror, Martín reached for Lyndsay. "The one with the pretty red hair will help me."

  "No!" Sarah smashed her fist down on his wrist, knocking his hand out of Lyndsay's hair. Lyndsay sank back into the circle of her friends, and Sarah positioned herself squarely between Martin and the girls. "Keep your hands off them!"

  "De Vega, you bastard…" The deep-pitched croak sounded from the ground behind her.

  Not daring to take her eyes off their captor, Sarah could only hope the shuffling in the dirt behind her meant Hawk was conscious and climbing to his feet. Even in his injured state, Hawk had the most beautiful voice in the world. The rich, soft sound vibrated along her taut nerve endings, calming her, amplifying her own untapped strength.

  A groan punctuated by the thud of something solid hitting the ground behind her cut short her upsurge of renewed determination. Sinister laughter rolled from Martín's lips. "Your threats are not so tough now, Indian."

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw Hawk struggle onto his elbows and then push himself up on his knees. But he met the resistance of the rope at his ankles, lost his balance, and fell. His long hair shielded his face like a curtain until he recovered his breath and strength enough to lift his face. Though not directed at her, the absolute blackness in his eyes absorbed the morning light and left Sarah chilled.

  "Luis said I should find a way to keep you occupied, Indian. I think I will save myself the trouble." He raised his gun and aimed it at Hawk. Sarah darted between Martin and his target, sticking her hands up in surrender.

  "Don't shoot!" She swallowed past the knot of fear lodged in her throat. "I'll go with you."

  "Sarah!"

  She ignored Hawk's plea and stepped toward Martín. He tested her sudden acquiescence by taking one hand from his rifle and cupping her breast. She jerked at the disgusting contact and swatted his hand away.

  His curious smile vanished, and Sarah stared into brown eyes darkened with the menace of displeasure. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to wrench free of his touch again when he moved in closer. He unfastened the barrette at her nape and dropped it to the ground. With one hand holding the tip of the rifle at the base of her throat, he dug his fingers into her hair and combed his way through it all the way to the ends, pulling it over her shoulder and draping it across her chest.

  He pressed his lips to the exposed side of her neck and nipped her. Sarah turned her face away and squeezed her stomach muscles to avoid retching at the stench of his hot breath. She had to keep him busy, she told herself. He didn't seem to care what she looked like, so long as she was female. If she could distract him long enough, the girls could untie Haw
k, and even injured as he was, he could overpower their lone captor and they could escape this nightmare.

  The girls would be safe. Hawk would be alive.

  And suddenly she realized that her need to protect Hawk stemmed from something more than fear of surviving this alone, or even a healthy conscience that inspired her to help others. She needed time to learn more about him. She needed to understand why he behaved so mysteriously, and why her foolish attraction to him wouldn't go away, despite her track record with men.

  If she could distract Martín long enough, she could buy them the time they needed.

  If only she had understood the flaw in her plan.

  Martín grabbed her blouse by the front placket. His grimy fingers rubbed against her. She jerked away from the offensive touch and the top three buttons popped off her shirt.

  "Miss Mack!" Concern and unmasked fear echoed in the chorus of young voices.

  Grinning wickedly, Martín snatched the material in his fist and pulled. "If any one of you moves to follow me, I will kill her."

  With the order delivered, he backed toward the trees between the staff’s tents. Sarah grabbed his wrist for balance and staggered after him, understanding too late that she'd been playing a dangerous game she had no hope of winning.

  "Help him." She looked back at Hawk and prayed the girls would follow her command quickly once she was out of sight. He might be their only chance out of there.

  Her only chance.

  "Sarah, no!"

  Martín yanked her beyond the tree line. She stumbled over a tree root and fell, landing with a painful jab on her side. Before she could regain her footing, Martín was on top of her, ripping open the front of her blouse. He dropped his rifle on the ground within arm's reach beside him and tugged at her belt.

  Hawk's hoarse, desperate shout was the last thing she heard before blackness swam through her head.