Free SEALs of Honor: Markus by Dale Mayer Page A

Bree.
    “She is right. She was on the edge of death and she did pull back from it so in theory she’d be okay with being shot too,” he said with dry humor.
    Bree smacked him up side the head lightly. “That doesn’t mean I want to get shot,” she cried out. “Same as I didn’t want to get left behind either.”
    “You got left behind? Who left you behind?”
    “Markus.”
    “Did not.”
    “Well, you were going to.”
    “Was not.”
    “Well, you should have,” she cried out in exasperation. “I’m on your shoulders like a little kid.”
    “Could have walked,” he said dryly. Hawk must be loving this.
    “Well, you know I couldn’t have,” she countered. “I couldn’t walk anymore.”
    “So therefore, I’m carrying you,” Markus snapped, irritation getting the best of him.
    “Well, you should have left me behind.”
    “No, I shouldn’t have.”
    Markus grinned when he heard her muffled shriek of frustration.
    “Are you always like this?” she cried.
    “Like what?”
    “Bullheaded.”
    Hawk gasped as he choked a laugh back. “Glad to hear you sound like you’re doing okay. Four of us are at the cabin waiting.”
    “Then keep an eye out for the shooter. He’s likely expecting us to return there. I don’t want to be picked off one by one.”
    “Two by two,” Bree interjected. “Actually in this case he could pick all three of us off at once.”
    “I’ll go out and pick him off first.”
    “What? He can’t do that,” Bree said as Hawk rang off. “What if he shoots the wrong person?” Her voice rose as she added, “What if he shoots us?”
    “He won’t,” Markus growled in exasperation. “He’s the best tracker we’ve got. If there is a shooter out there, then he’ll find him.”
    “You should let me walk. Carrying me is too much. It’s making you cranky.”
    He didn’t bother answering, he just made sure she couldn’t unhook her legs while he powered forward.

Chapter 11

    B ree figured Markus would literally collapse before he’d admit to needing any rest. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
    “And how could you know that?” he countered, never breaking stride.
    “Because you won’t allow yourself to say you need a rest,” she said, patting his head, almost stroking his short hair as if she could impart some of her imaginary strength to him.
    “That’s because I don’t need a rest.”
    “But you should,” she said earnestly. “Admitting defeat is a sign of a good man.”
    “Good men don’t admit defeat,” he snorted. “They change tactics and try again.”
    He shook his head, his thick hair rubbing up against her arm. There was a leaf stuck on the side. She reached down and plucked it loose.
    “Your hair is so soft,” she said in wonder. “So much nicer than mine.” She couldn’t resist, he was so damn male and yet that hair of his was so silky. She slipped her fingers over his scalp in delight. “My hair is just starting to recover. It didn’t like the medication I was forced to take. I didn’t lose all my hair, but what little remained went thin and flat so I cut it very short as I was too tired to deal with it all the time.”
    “Understandable.”
    She heard an odd note in his voice.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” he said in exasperation. “No, I’m not tired. No, I don’t need a break and no I don’t need to put you down.”
    “Well, you definitely need a nap of some kind,” she snapped. “Because you’re beyond crabby.”
    He groaned. “Sorry.”
    “No,” she said, her fingers on his hair again, but it was more of a pat than a stroke. “It’s okay. I’m probably not at my finest either.”
    “You’re doing great. Just hold on. We’ll be there in about ten minutes. Can you handle that?”
    “Yes,” she said softly. “I can handle anything for that long.”
    And this time she was determined to show herself in better form. How hard could it be? She was the one being carried after all. But it was amazingly