Page 62 of Mine to Protect

I suppressed the smile that wanted to emerge at just the thought of her.

“She asleep?” Chandler asked as he stomped up the steps.

“Yes.”

“You tuck her in all nice and tight in there?” With a smirk, he nodded to the cabin. “Or is that my job tonight?”

“She’s in her room, yes,” I grumbled around the new cigarette between my lips as I lit the end.

“You wore her the fuck out, didn’t you? You bastard, I told you to take it slow with her. Bet she won’t be able to walk for a fucking week.”

I turned my steely eyes to him. “Watch it.”

Palms up in mock surrender, he stepped out of my swinging reach. “You getting riled up all over a woman?”

Instead of admitting he was spot-on, I leaned a shoulder against the post, placing my back to him.

“Never thought I’d see the day. Knew something would end up happening between you two. Fucking knew it.”

“Enough,” I demanded. He acted like it was national fucking news. Yes, this was the first time, maybe ever, that I had even a glimmer of emotions over someone. Even in the marines, the boys always counted on my ability to stay detached, emotionless and focused on the facts.

“Wow,” Chandler said with an exaggerated sigh. “Anything happen tonight after I left that I should know about?”

I shook my head and took another deep inhale, enjoying the way the smoke burned my lungs. “We went out for dinner because she had shit to eat here. Don’t worry, we stopped by the store on our way back, so there’s food in there now.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How was dinner?”

I shrugged, not understanding where he was going with his question. “Fine. We mostly talked about the case. We both agreed that something else seems to be going on with this guy. Why switch up the type of women he targeted from ‘married to meatheads’ to ‘single and working for the park’?”

“So all business, then,” Peters sighed and leaned back against a post. “Sounds like some date. You don’t get out much, do you? Need some pointers?”

“Fuck off.”

“All I’m saying is she seems like a nice kid, and you’re a little”—he angled his head one way and then tilted it the other, like he was getting a good look—“rough around the edges. Maybe you should, I don’t know, shave. And how about wearing clothes other than a black T–shirt or something with ‘marines’ stamped across it?”

“I know how to fucking date,” I grumbled, even though he had me doubting myself at that point. “Lay off my ass, okay? She’s fine, and I’m fine.”

“Just trying to help a friend out. You respond to her, which is a fucking miracle. Don’t want to see you fuck it up before we head home.”

“Keys.” After catching them midflight, I flipped him the bird and strode to the SUV. Peters had made it halfway through the door when I called out, making him pause. “Don’t fucking touch her, you hear me.” I started to climb in but stopped. “And don’t go telling all our shit tomorrow morning. No one else needs that stuff in their heads.” I cranked the engine and backed out. “I sure as hell don’t want it,” I muttered to myself.

Yes, I was still an emotionless shell of a person, but since leaving the Marines, I was wound tighter now than ever before. The lack of purpose, something to be responsible for in the civilian life, kept me on edge on a daily basis. Sure, I had a job to do, and I did it well, but what could I do with the other hours in the day? Since the demotion, all I did was sit at home, sulking and drinking until liver failure was imminent. I didn’t have friends, didn’t date; most of my time was spent alone, trying to forget. But with her, the emotions she evoked, I had purpose. She needed me, and I needed her.

This unknown side of me, the possessiveness and all-consuming desire for only her, was fucking terrifying and freeing at the same time. What I told her earlier was true. I’d never had anything of my own, nothing to form an emotional connection to; then she walked into my life, cracking the emotionless cage that held me hostage for so long wide open.

Utterly exhausted, I unlocked the cabin door, stumbled to the living room and fell face first onto the couch, still fully dressed. Thumbs shoved against my temples, I massaged in small circles, trying to ease my headache as I toed off my boots, letting them clatter to the floor.

My mind raced with thoughts of Alta and the case. Something was going on behind the scenes, something we hadn’t figured out yet. Every lead led to a dead end. Which left Alta vulnerable and me on edge, because the one place I wanted to be right now was with her, protecting her, but I couldn’t.

No way would I endanger her life so I could be there tonight. Peters was a good guy and a hell of a marine. He would take care of her.

But what rubbed was he wasn’t me.

After several minutes of talking in circles, my lids grew heavy. Not bothering with stumbling to my room, I stretched out on the couch, grabbed a spare pillow and gave in to the pull of sleep.

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