Rogue protector, p.6
Rogue Protector, page 6
Austin
“So, tell me about your family,” Mikayla says when the server drops off a dish of flan for us to share.
“Mom and Dad live in New Haven. I was an only child for almost thirteen years, and then they decided to adopt. Dani was nine, and Gil—“ I swallow hard, “—he was my age.”
“Was that hard? Suddenly having to share your parents?” Mik drains the last of her Aqua Fresca and grins. “My cousin lived with us for a couple of years, and I was horrible to my parents for at least six months. Until they grounded us both for sneaking out of the house—separately. We had to spend all weekend cleaning out the garage together and she told me what her home life had been like before. We bonded after that.”
Running a hand through my hair, I pin my gaze over her shoulder, unable to look her in the eyes. “Nah. Dani was too cute to resent, and Gil…he and I were close for a while.”
“Just for a while?” Her delicate fingers slide over mine, and I want to pull away, but there’s something magnetic and calming about her touch. Something that frees the words stuck in my throat.
“When I enlisted…things went south pretty quick.” Shaking my head, I swallow hard. “He died five years ago.”
“Oh, Austin. I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand, her eyes shining, and I pick up my spoon, needing to turn the focus of this conversation away from me. And Gil. Before I can no longer keep everything he did to me bottled up inside where it belongs.
“What about your cousin? Are you two still close?”
“We talk on the phone at least once a month. But she moved to France a few years ago. Fell in love with a great guy. So we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like.”
“New topic,” I say, forcing a smile. “This or that.”
Mik’s brows draw together. “I don’t understand.”
“What do you like better? Ice cream or chocolate? This? Or that?”
“Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”
It’s close to nine when we leave the restaurant. Three hours passed in the blink of an eye, and I need more. Much more.
“I don’t want to go back to the hotel yet,” Mik says as she winds an arm around my waist. “Tomorrow morning is going to come way too early, and we have to take a boatload of samples. I’m worried someone’s been spraying pesticide at the grow sites, and if so…all of our research will be worthless. And,” her voice takes on a wistful tone, “we’ll have to pack up and head back home.”
“Wait. Tomorrow? You’d leave tomorrow?” Fuck. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Stopping in my tracks, I frame her face with my hands, tracing her cheekbones, memorizing this moment.
“No. Not tomorrow.” Her lips curve into a sad smile. “But the day after. If we find evidence of pesticide. If not, I still have another four days.”
“Then so do I. I want to see you again, Mikayla. Tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that. And the tomorrow after that. If you’ll let me.”
“What are we doing?” She searches my face, even as I still hold hers. “I work twelve-hour days. Even at home. I never take vacation. I haven’t been on a date in three years. And you’re—“ Mik runs her hands down my chest, “—like Captain America, James Bond, and Indiana Jones all rolled into one.”
“You’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dipping my head, I kiss her, tasting the single sip of my margarita she asked for—the last sip—that I handed over without a second thought. I keep it light, because I can’t—I won’t—scare her off. “You’re on a date now.”
And I’m none of those guys. Not even close.
“As for what we’re doing?” Another kiss, this one deeper as I slide my hands down her back to rest just above her ass. “I don’t know any more than you do. I’m not a smart bet, Mik. Too many ghosts hiding in my closet. You should walk away from me right now. Run even. But I can’t bring myself to let you go.”
Mik rests her cheek against my chest. “I want a tomorrow. I can’t promise you more than that.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I savor her curves, her scent, something fresh and clean with that tantalizing hint of lilacs. “Then we’ll start with just one tomorrow. And see what happens.”
Unwilling let this night end so soon, we walk through the outdoor bazaar—a permanent marketplace with everything from jewelry to wool blankets to cheap trinkets designed to catch the eye of tourists searching for a quick memento to bring home with them.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have been caught enjoying something like this if my life depended on it. And then it hits me. A year ago. That’s when everything changed. Last September. When Trev came to me and asked me to look into two JSOC guys hassling Ryker and Dax. And Ripper. That visit dredged up all the memories from the week Gil tortured me. I thought I’d banished them. Dealt with them. I was wrong.
“Hey. Where’d you go?” Mik asks, giving my waist a squeeze. “The look on your face...it was like you were seeing ghosts.” When I don’t reply, she frowns. “Talk to me, Austin. What’s haunting you?”
We’re standing next to a booth selling beaded bracelets, and rather than answer, I peer down at her and smile.
“What’s your favorite color?”
In her confusion, that furrow between her brows begs to be kissed. “Purple. Why?”
Guiding her to the closest wall, out of the way of the crowds, I smooth my hands down her arms and kiss her as I gently turn her so her back is to the booth. I don’t know why. It’s not like she didn’t just see the rows and rows of jewelry. “No looking over your shoulder. I’ll be right back.”
“Austin, what—?”
I cut her off with my lips on hers, and this kiss sends pure, overwhelming need shooting straight south of my belt, and Mik grabs on to me, her hold desperate as she offers me more. Her hips grind against me, and I know the exact moment she realizes how hard I am. Her heart is beating so fast, I feel it in my palms on her back, and I break away before I do something she definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with—like cupping her breasts and running my thumbs over the tight nipples straining against her tank top.
“Trust me, Mikayla. I’ll only be two minutes.”
She’s breathless, and nods before she pulls a water bottle from her bag and tries—with unsteady hands—to unscrew the cap. “I don’t know why I should,” she mutters. “Trust you, that is. Not when you keep doing that.”
“Maybe that is the exact reason.” Giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, I stride back to the booth and haggle with the vendor until she cuts the price of a polished amethyst and tourmaline bracelet by a third.
Mikayla’s still facing away from me, so I call her name before I touch her, and the look on her face when she turns is part relief, part impatience, and...fuck. Part lust.
I take her hand and press the bracelet into her palm. “I don’t know what happens after tomorrow, Mik. Maybe we never see one another again. But you should have something of this place. Of this night. Of me.”
Her eyes shine as she looks from the shiny stones to me and back again. “I’ll say it again, Austin. You’re too good to be true. Put it on me?”
“With pleasure, sweetheart.”
An undercurrent of guilt churns in my stomach as I fasten the clasp. I didn’t lie to her. I do want her to have something to hold on to from this night. From whatever this is we’re sharing. But I can’t get her words out of my head. “Talk to me, Austin. What’s haunting you?”
She thinks I’m a good man. Maybe that’s true. Or could be. But I’m also a fucking coward who used a pretty thing to avoid answering a serious question.
Chapter Eight
Mikayla
Morning comes too soon. I stayed out with Austin until close to eleven, and when we got back to the hotel, we retreated to a corner of the bar and talked until the staff kicked us out.
Before he said goodnight, he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me so thoroughly, I felt it down to my toes. And I was so wet, I ached to touch myself. Then, he featured in every single one of my dreams. Well, at least his face and very well-muscled chest.
But for all the hours we spent together, I still don’t feel like I know the man. We danced around all the deep topics. His brother’s death, his injury, the haunted look in his eyes.
Every time I asked him a serious question, he deflected. Maybe it’s his military training, but I think there’s more to it. Not that I was much better. I don’t have a lot of experience to draw from, and ever since James the Jerk dumped me after talking me into bed, I’ve been too afraid to trust anyone with my body—or my heart.
Yet, when Austin and I kiss…it’s like he understands me in a way no one else ever has. And he never once pressured me for more than I was willing to give. When we finally managed to step away from each other very early this morning and he had to go back to his room? The way he was walking looked very, very uncomfortable.
In the lobby, I fill my travel mug with coffee from the breakfast bar and wait for my students. But ten minutes after they’re supposed to meet me, Li’s the only one here.
“Where are Isaiah and Corey?” I ask.
Rolling her eyes, then dropping her gaze to the floor, she sighs. “Corey talked Isaiah into going out to a bar in town. Drinks and karaoke. I told them there was no way I was staying out as late as they wanted.” Her voice drops to a whisper, “And Isaiah didn’t come to my room last night.”
Whoa. They insisted on separate rooms when we booked this hotel, but Li’s staying next to me—on the opposite side from Austin—and the walls here? They’re pretty thin. I’ve heard him sneaking into her room every night.
“I can go knock on their doors,” she says quietly.
“I’ll do it. They knew we had to get an early start today so we could hit up Sites One and Four.” Frustration edges my tone, and I blow out a breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you.”
“No. You’re right. They were irresponsible. Corey said he wanted to blow off some steam. I’ll load up the bags.” Li extends the handle for the rolling suitcase containing our laptops and waits for me to pass her my backpack before flashing me a shy smile. “This way, I can pick the music.”
“Oh, that’s sneaky. You’re learning,” I say before rushing back to the elevator. My sports bra feels too tight across my ribs, which means I need to slow down. Staying up late two nights in a row and getting up at six isn’t smart, and if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to get more than halfway through the day without needing my rescue inhaler.
Breathe, Mik. If you have an attack, you’re going to feel like crap when you see Austin tonight.
Except if we find evidence of pesticide use, or if we have to wait another day to take samples, I’ll feel like crap anyway. Knocking on Isaiah’s door, I force myself to breathe slowly and put on my sternest “Ph.D boss” face.
The shuffling from inside only spurs my frustration on, but I wait, hands on my hips, until he cracks the door. “Isaiah. Crap. What happened to you?” He looks like death—if death had gotten into a bar fight and spent the night in a gutter. And the smell. I cover my mouth and nose and take a step back. “Oh, God. Open a window or something.”
“Sorry, Dr. Mik,” he croaks. “I…food poisoning.” He turns, racing for the bathroom, and the distinct sound of vomiting makes my stomach do backflips and sends nausea crawling up the back of my throat. I can’t handle other people throwing up. It’s a sure-fire way to activate my own gag reflex.
“Isaiah?” I call when the sound fades and the toilet flushes.
He braces his hand on the wall as he makes his way back to the door. “We went to this bar. And fuck. I’ve been up…all night. I can’t go more than,” he swallows hard, his skin turning greener and a sheen of sweat breaking out over his brow, “a few minutes without the bathroom.”
“Do you need a doctor? Or to go to the hospital?”
“No. Just…shit.” He tries to laugh, but then his face twists into a grimace and he doubles over and holds his stomach. “We’ll get…to Site One tomorrow… Oh God.” Isaiah shuts the door in my face, and a few seconds later, I can hear him throwing up yet again.
Corey looks marginally better, and his room doesn’t smell, but when he tries to tell me he’ll be okay in an hour, I wave him off. “No. Rest. Li and I can handle some of the analysis from yesterday’s samples and head out to Site Four on our regular rotation. Just…don’t ever do that again, okay? We only have a few more days to finish up all of our experiments—and that’s only if the sites are clean. We can’t afford another delay.”
He nods, and the look on his face is one of pure and complete shame. He knows he screwed up, and I soften my tone. “Lots of water. Call down and have the restaurant send up some apples and toast. Nothing else. At all. And check on Isaiah. He’s in a lot worse shape than you are.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Mik,” Corey says as he starts to shut the door. “For everything.”
The trek to Site Four only takes twenty minutes. Unlike the previous two days, the weather on the mountain is pleasant, with thin sunshine streaming through the clouds. Li opens the collection kit and spreads it out on a small tarp. “Root and leaf samples today, Dr. Mik?”
“Yes. Be careful with the roots. They’re the most toxic when they’re dried, but even fresh, they can give you one heck of a headache if a cutting touches your skin.”
She pulls on a pair of latex gloves before picking up the sample scissors and sterilizing them. “I remember.”
Kicking myself for not trusting her, I pop open one of the small vials and fill it with teaspoon of soil. “I should know better. You’ve never needed a reminder. About anything, really.”
She offers me a shy smile. “I love this work. I won’t screw it up.”
It takes us three hours. Li carefully excises root samples from six of the eighteen plants in this caldera, leaf cuttings from another six, and labels everything while I test the soil pH, collect rainwater from little pools all around the site, and download the temperature, humidity, wind, and rainfall data from the past four days.
The first week we were here, most of our time was consumed with setting up our equipment. The monitoring stations in the center of each grow site record fifty different pieces of data every hour of every day, but we’re in such a remote area, there’s no way to get a signal back to the lab. So all of our data has to be transferred manually. Tomorrow, we’re supposed to spend the day installing a relay so once we leave, we can continue to collect data.
By the time we return to the trailer, it’s well after 2:00 p.m., and my unease has risen to a truly unhealthy level. I hate that we couldn’t get out to Site One today, and I just know I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight—or enjoy my date with Austin—if I can’t find out whether someone’s been spraying. I saw no evidence of anything untoward at Site Four, but One is the largest, with a full twenty-seven plants.
I took a puff from my daily inhaler once we got here, and my chest no longer feels tight. If I carried the full sample kit by myself, the normally forty-five minute hike would probably take me an hour. Still, I could make it there and back before sunset.
“Li, I’m going to Site One.”
She looks up from the lab bench where she’s cataloging her samples and frowns. “No, Dr. Mik. It’s too dangerous. That climb…”
“I’ll be careful. Take it slow. The other day was a fluke.” It’s hard not to let my frustration show. Asthma doesn’t make me weak. Or vulnerable. “It’ll be worse if I have to go another day wondering if someone’s spraying up there. Trust me.”
Li’s warm brown eyes shine as she swallows hard. “Do you really think—?”
This research project will help her make a name for herself in the academic community, and she wants that more than anything. To prove to her family that she chose the right career. Her parents—like mine—wanted her to be a medical doctor.
“I don’t know.” It’s the easiest answer, though I don’t believe it. Still, I’d rather not dash her hopes until after I climb the rocky path to Site One and see for myself. Let her be innocent and optimistic for another few hours at least. Kneeling next to my pack, I check for my inhaler, then add the sample kit, a couple of granola bars, and a bottle of water. It’s been nice most of the day, but I still grab my poncho before clipping the GPS to my belt.
“I should be back in three hours. Lock the door, okay?” After I tighten the straps on the backpack, I force a smile. “Run the pesticide tests on all the samples we collected today while I’m gone, and as soon as I get back, we’ll do a quick assay on the ones from Site One. Then we’ll know for sure.”
Before I slip out the door, I glance back to see her chewing on her lower lip, her face drawn with worry. “Be careful, Dr. Mik,” she says quietly. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Halfway up the mountain, a light mist starts to cool my cheeks. Not long after, the wind picks up, and what had been a pleasant tickle of precipitation turns into sharp, wet needles stinging my skin.
At the old wooden bridge, I stop and try to shield my face from the rain as I scan the sky. I don’t like the look of those clouds, but as long as I’m quick, I’ll make it back over the river before it’s in any danger of flooding.
The climb gets slicker and more miserable with every step, and not even my poncho offers me much protection against the deluge. But I’ve come this far, and according to the GPS, I only have another tenth of a mile.
Head down. Keep moving. The trip back will be a heck of a lot faster. And easier.
My lungs are starting to protest, and the sky’s turned from light gray to a sickly mix of green and slate by the time I reach the crevasse leading to Site One. At least I’m not climbing anymore. A bolt of lightning arcs through the looming clouds, and the thunder obliterates all other sounds only a second later.
Crap. This is bad. Ducking through the narrow entrance to the private oasis filled with orchids, I slide my pack off my shoulder, unzip it, and freeze.
