Page 29 of Her Wicked Hero

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded shyly.

“Morning’s going to come sooner than you think. We’re going to need to get a move on.”

“Why? I thought we were going to wait until tomorrow night before the helicopter was going to come and rescue us.”

“I want to get close to the camp, then I’m going to acquire food. Hana especially needs milk.”

How could she not have considered that? She pushed the heel of her hand into her forehead, so angry with herself.

“You need to stop that,” Zed said as he pulled her hand away.

“I should have thought of that. It’s my job to think of things. I’m supposed to be taking care of them.”

“Why?” he gave her a questioning look. “Why is it your job?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Marcia, you’re twenty-three. You just met Nurul today. Why is it your job to be taking care of her and her baby?”

“It’s always my job to take care of people,” she said reasonably. “It’s what I do.”

His brown eyes glittered down at her. He was so handsome with his black hair and sharp cheekbones. “What did you ask?”

“I asked who do you take care of?”

“Mr. B., the girls, Lesley...Rick” Why was he asking these questions? Why was he frowning?

“Who takes care of you?”

“Mrs. B. was wonderful.” God, she hated thinking of her. It hurt worse when she died than when her parents did. And then a month later Rick said he was sick of how moody she’d become. He said she wasn’t paying enough attention to him. She tried, she really tried, but Debbie and Christie needed her, and she was still so sad about Mrs. B.’s death, she just couldn’t give him the attention he wanted.

“She died, didn’t she?” Zed asked.

“Yeah,” Marcia nodded. “Then everything fell apart.”

He stroked her shoulder. “Can you tell me?”

It must have been the quiet of the jungle, the warm air, the intimacy of the silky night that had her considering talking to this man. But she’d bared so much of her soul, she needed more.

“Have you ever experienced loss Zed?” she finally asked.

“I’m thirty-six, in the military, so yeah,” he breathed out heavily, “people who have meant a lot to me have died.”

She could see the truth in his eyes. “Just your teammates?”

“No,” he said quietly. “My abuela right after I became a SEAL.”

“It’s killing me Christie and Debbie have been subjected to it.”

“They’ll survive, they have their father.”

“And me.”

“Why? Why do you think you have to take care of everyone?”

It was the first time that anyone had ever asked her that question, and Marcia didn’t know how to answer it. She looked up at him, confused.