Duty Bound Read online

  Duty Bound

  The Protectors: Book One

  Noelle Adams and Samantha Chase

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Noelle Adams and Samantha Chase. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Prologue

  Levi

  It isn’t supposed to be like this.

  The sun shone down on the cemetery, and a cool breeze blew across my face, but all I saw was blackness. Having been in the military in a time of war, you’d think I’d be used to this scene by now. But I wasn’t. I didn’t just lose a brother-in-arms. I lost one of my closest friends.

  I could feel the tension radiating off Declan on my right, just as I felt it off Cole to my left. No doubt Sebastian was feeling the same way. I glanced down the line at him and could see the expression we’d been schooled in—emotionless. Only someone who knows you the way we knew each other would be able to see the brewing emotion underlying the facade.

  We were Marines, damn it. It had always been our lives. Only now we were home—and not by our own choosing. We’d served. We’d fought on the front lines and now had returned. Injured. Broken. Defeated. Not all wounds are physical, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

  We’d been friends for a long time—the five of us. Together since boot camp. Always a good team. Despite all the differences between us, we shared a bond that most wouldn’t understand.

  Sebastian’s family was old-money. No one expected him to enlist and become a Marine. They’d expected him to live in the lap of luxury. Looking over at his stoic face, I had to wonder if he might have been better off remaining in the silver-spoon life that was now awaiting his return.

  Declan was staring down at his hands. His silence was the most unnerving to me. Although I knew it wasn’t appropriate for a graveside, but I still needed him to make a joke. To talk about how he’d hooked up with triplets in a bar in Maui.

  I needed something—anything—to take the edge off this nightmare hour.

  Beside me, Cole shifted in his seat. His scars were the most obvious—as they’d always been. He had never had an easy life, and being a Marine was more like a reprieve to him than a challenge like it was for the rest of us. He was home, but I knew that he’d rather be waiting for word on where he could be stationed next. Sometimes, I thought he’d rather be anywhere than standing here.

  Even in the ground.

  It isn’t supposed to be like this.

  The pastor recited all of Gavin’s outstanding qualities. Good son. Good brother. Good friend. Good Marine. I wanted to shake the man because good didn’t even begin to cover it. Gavin was the kind of guy who always had your back and made serving in such hellish conditions a little more tolerable. He could make you laugh when the world was crumbling around you and tell a story that transported you somewhere else.

  If only I’d done something…

  I told myself not to go there. Not now. In a perfect world, there’d be far fewer military conflicts and a lot less need for military funerals. But it wasn’t a perfect world. Everyone knew that.

  I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want Gavin to be there. In a box, lowering into the ground. I would have given everything that was, all that I had, to change it—to go back in time and make it right. To make Gavin not be in that casket.

  If only I’d said something sooner…

  Focus, damn it! I couldn’t stand to be here. It was too much, too painful. The five of us were supposed to be together forever. A couple more years in the service, and we were going to get out and do something different. Something just for us. Now there wasn’t going to be any of that. Sure, the four of us left could still move forward, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

  What if I’d been the one to go in first?

  I could only beat my head against the wall so many times. It didn’t bring me any closer to having peace, and it certainly didn’t make it any easier to get up every morning and be hit with the brutal reality that I was alive and Gavin was dead. How the hell was I supposed to live with that burden?

  The Lord’s Prayer was being said now. My jaw hurt from clenching throughout the service. I knew I was supposed to say the words, but I wasn’t feeling overly spiritual. I’d called out a prayer when the world exploded around me. Maybe I should have been thankful that I was still alive, that the four of us were still alive when so many weren’t.

  It didn’t make me feel any better, though, and I doubted I’d ever feel like me again.

  Everyone was standing. Looking around, I noticed that people were making their way over to Gavin’s family. I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with them since getting back. Maybe I’d been avoiding them because I’m ashamed to face them. I let them down. Gavin and I were from the same hometown in central Virginia. We’d been like brothers long before we became Marines. Yet here I was, still standing, while Gavin’s body was being lowered into the cold ground.

  Damn it.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, watching the whole scene unfold before me. Cole nudged me and nodded in the direction of the receiving line. The crowd had thinned out some, and I had a clear line to the family.

  Holy shit, how was I supposed to do this? What was I even supposed to say?

  Next to Gavin’s parents, I saw a small blonde. Harper. It had been years since I’d last seen her, and in my mind, she was still just a kid. Stepping closer, I could see that it wasn’t a girl standing there, but a grown woman. Her posture was straight and proud. Some might call it standing at attention. That almost made me smile.

  She’d always been a handful and didn’t take crap from anyone. From the look of things, that was still the case. The back-off vibe was coming off loud and clear, even as her face was politely smiling as she thanked people for coming.

  For a moment, I forgot who she was. My eyes lingered on the simple beauty of her face, the lush curves of her small body. This so wasn’t the time to notice how gorgeous she’d become, but there it was, appropriate timing or not. I felt a stir of desire I hadn’t felt in a long time. Too long.

  Of all the moments for that to kick back in.

  If it were another time—and another woman—I’d act on it. But she was Gavin’s little sister and therefore off limits. Her eyes connected with mine over the crowd, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. A dozen emotions crossed her face, even though her expression never visibly changed. Had anyone else seen that?

  It was my turn. Shit. I mumbled something. I think it was my condolences. I shook hands with Gavin’s father and hugged his mother. Now that I was standing in front of Harper, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Shake her hand? Hug her? Pat her on the head?

  Now, I really had a hard time hiding the smile that was tugging at my lips at the image of doing just that.

  Instead of doing anything, I simply spoke. “Hey, Harper. I’m so sorry for your loss. Gavin was a great guy.”

  That polite smile she’d been giving everyone else disappeared as her eyes honed in on me and sharpened to a hostile glare. I almost tripped over my own feet as she stepped toward me and whispered so that only I could hear, “You son of a bitch. Why couldn’t it have been you?”

  Welcome home, Levi.

  One

  Harper

  I was getting really tired of people patting me on the head.

  Metaphorical pats on the head, of course. I did have an ex-boyfriend in college who gave me a little pat on the head once as he laughed at how much time I was spending in organizin
g a rally on campus. He acted like the head-pat was a joke, but it was all I could do not to slug the condescending bastard. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last beyond that night.

  I’m really short and really blond, and there’s nothing I can do about either of those things. But, because I bear an unfortunate resemblance to Tinkerbell, I’ve always had to put up with being patronized, underestimated, or not taken seriously.

  Jack, my editor, usually wasn’t guilty of acting that way. I’d worked with him for four years, and I always thought we respected each other. But he was talking over me now, interrupting every time I tried to explain myself, and I hated when people did that.

  “I really think there’s more of a story here,” I said, keeping my voice as low and patient as I could. Jack was standing right next to my chair, but the desk beside mine was just a few feet away so it wasn’t like the conversation could be private. “If you’ll just let me—”

  “I’ve given you as much leeway as I can,” Jack interrupted. He was middle-aged, balding, and always looked tired. The staff could always tell his stress-level by how high his sleeves were rolled up on his arm. This afternoon, they were already up past his elbows. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Harper. All of us are really sorry. I offered to give you personal days last month, if you needed—”

  “I don’t need personal days. I just need to be able to do my job. And I’m telling you that I can find out more about that accident. There’s more going on—”

  “This is a local paper, and I’ve already given you more inches than we can spare on military issues. I’m really sorry about your brother’s accident, but you can’t devote all your time to whatever conspiracy you’re trying to dig up about it.”

  His tone at the end definitely sounded patronizing. Like he thought I was deranged with grief or something. I straightened my shoulders, since I’d learned that gave me a little more height. So did the very high heels I always wore. I still had to look up at Jack, though. I had to look up at everyone. “It’s not about Gavin’s death. Something strange is going on here, and no one is talking about it. I’ve already brought the paper national exposure with my column last month, so I’d think you’d want me to—”

  “Harper, this isn’t a debate. I’m telling you this flat out. Take days if you need them, but otherwise you need to stop obsessing and do your job.”

  I stared at him for a minute, waves of heat slamming into me, partly from fury and partly from humiliation. He’d snapped out the last words loud enough for everyone in the bullpen to hear.

  Now every one of them would think I was overcome by grief and acting like an irrational child. They would feel sorry for me. They wouldn’t respect me.

  And this story would never come out.

  Evidently, Jack read something in my face because his expression softened. “I’m sorry, Harper. I just—”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupted, putting down the notebook I’d been holding. I didn’t even know why I was holding it. I’d just picked it up when I’d stood up at Jack’s approach. “The town council is meeting this afternoon about that sanitation thing. Do you want me to cover it?”

  “You don’t have to do that. Mary was going to —”

  “It’s fine. I can do it. It’s fine.” I wasn’t looking him in the eye because I knew—I knew—he was feeling sorry for me. So was everyone else in the room. “It’s really fine.”

  I made sure my expression was calm and controlled as I stuffed my notebook in my bag and slung the strap on my shoulder.

  “Harper,” Jack began, as I started to walk out. He obviously felt bad. I was the poor little girl whose big brother had just died.

  “It’s fine,” I said, my voice convincingly casual. “I’ve got it covered.”

  I stopped in the bathroom on my way out. Relieved it was empty, I hurried into a stall, locked it, and sat down, leaning over and trying to smother a sudden surge of emotion.

  Gavin used to laugh at all of my “causes,” every time I found a new issue or battle to devote my energies to. In high school and college, I’d have a new cause every month—from animal rights to the school administration trying to drop the Women’s Studies program—and he thought they all were hilarious.

  He’d probably laugh at me now, getting so worked up at uncovering what they weren’t telling me about his death.

  Except he would never laugh again.

  For a moment, the knowledge hurt so much I could barely breathe. I hugged my arms to my stomach and shook helplessly. I’d always hated to cry, though, so I pulled myself together, breathing deeply, telling myself that families felt like this all over the world whenever soldiers or sailors or airmen or Marines were killed for reasons that just didn’t make any sense.

  I left the stall and went to stand in front of the sink, washing my hands and then running a finger under one eye to wipe away a smudge of mascara.

  I never wore my hair loose, since it only emphasized the fairy-princess look. But my hair is slippery and never stays neatly in a ponytail or twist. It was slipping out again, stray tendrils framing my face. With a sigh, I tried to tuck the strands back into the twist again.

  I’d go to this damned sanitation meeting. I’d always been conscientious, and I made A’s all through school. I certainly wasn’t going to risk my job.

  But I also wasn’t going to give up on this story.

  Gavin deserved the truth.

  ***

  I sat for two hours in the town council meeting. I wrote the story while I was sitting there, adding in the sentence about the outcome of the vote—which I’d already predicted—in the last two minutes of the meeting. Once the story was written, I also wrote next week’s column and then spent the last hour sending emails and writing a press release.

  I needed a bigger platform if I really wanted to get my voice heard. I’d been interviewed a few times after the funeral by cable news channels, but I felt like the media interest in the accident and Gavin’s death was dying down.

  It couldn’t die down yet. I needed to get someone else’s attention.

  I hit up every connection I had. When a friend from college replied just as the meeting was ending, I called her on my way out.

  I was so excited about the possibility of getting on the news show she worked for that I didn’t think about putting my tablet back in my bag. So I was juggling my tablet and my phone and trying to pull my wallet out of my bag as I stopped by the coffee shop next door.

  Jack loved the chai tea lattes from this place, so I figured I’d get him one on my way back and maybe he’d be more inclined to listen to what I had to say.

  There was a line, and it was noisy in the coffee shop. I saw Gina DeMarco in line in front of me. She had dark hair and heavy makeup, and Gavin had sort of dated her on and off for years. I turned slightly away from her. I’d always tried to be nice when Gavin hung out with her, but she was one of those overly needy people who invariably got on my nerves. I just didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now, and her unexpected appearance made my belly twist at the memory of Gavin.

  Since I was still on the phone, I had to speak louder to be heard over the noise in the shop.

  “No, listen to me,” I said, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder as I tried to get my fingers on my debit card. “You tell them they want me on the show. I’m not a nobody. You tell them who I am and who my brother is and show them the stories I’ve already written. They want me on that show.”

  I got to the front of the line as my friend hemmed and hawed some. I gave Gina a distracted wave as she saw me as she was leaving, and I handed the guy at the cash register my card. “Chai tea latte and the biggest cup of coffee you have.”

  My tablet was slipping down from where I’d tucked it under my arm, and I barely caught it before it dropped. Then it did fall as the guy asked what kind of coffee I wanted.

  “I don’t give a damn. Whatever is freshest.” I leaned over to grab my tablet from the floor and bumped m
y head on a shelf filled with coffee mugs for sale. My phone fell to the floor. “Damn it,” I muttered, grabbing the phone. “You still there?”

  When I ascertained that she was, I said, “Just do what you can. I’ll really appreciate it. I have things that need to be said, and I really think I’m the person to say them. I’ll be happy to fly up to New York on the spur of the moment, even if they have an opening at the last minute.”

  I’d moved from the cashier to the opposite side of the counter to wait for my drinks, which seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to prepare.

  My friend was telling me that she couldn’t make any promises, and I was reaching for the two drinks when my tablet slipped again.

  I growled in annoyance, feeling flustered and disorganized and like everything was going wrong and no one was really hearing me.

  I set the drinks down and bent to reach for the tablet when someone beat me to it.

  Levi.

  I don’t know where the hell he came from, but he was suddenly there, holding my tablet, looking big and masculine and absolutely gorgeous.

  His expression was sober as reached down and pulled my bag open enough to drop the tablet in.

  He wasn’t really that gorgeous. Obnoxious, for sure.

  “Yes, I’m still here,” I said into the phone. “Sorry. Just get me on the show if you possibly can. I really appreciate it.”

  I said goodbye, disconnected, and slipped the phone into my bag, which gave me two hands to take the two cups again.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Levi, who was still lingering as if we were going to have a conversation.

  I actually felt kind of bad for what I’d said to him at the funeral. I don’t even know why I said it—just that he was almost smiling as if something were funny, right after they’d put Gavin in the ground, and it made me so mad I had to lash out.

  But remembering how cruel the words had been just made me embarrassed, so I was hoping not to see him again at all.