Page 39 of Duty Devoted
“Lunch?” I unwrapped Elena’s gift carefully, revealing perfectly steamed rice mixed with black beans, eggs, and spices I couldn’t identify. Still somehow warm, the bijao leaves had worked their insulating magic.
“This is incredible. Juane always is.” Lauren savored her first bite with obvious pleasure. “Trust Elena to make sure we ate properly.”
“Kid’s got serious skills.” I ate slowly, making it last. “She understood the situation without being told. Brought exactly what we’d need.”
“She’s had to be practical her whole life. They all have.” Lauren accepted the tin cup, our fingers brushing as I passed it over. “It’s one of the things I love about this place. No one has much, but they share everything.”
We finished the meal in comfortable quiet, trading the cup back and forth to share water. The simple domesticity of it caught me off guard—when was the last time I’d shared a meallike this? Not a tactical necessity or mission requirement, just…eating with someone I was starting to genuinely like.
“Tell me about the extraction plans,” Lauren said as I rewrapped our remaining food. “What happens now?”
“Standard protocol is to get the primary objectives—your colleagues—to safety first. Probably to Guatemala or Mexico, somewhere beyond Silva’s reach.” I secured the bundle in my pack. “Then they’ll refuel, wait for a weather window, and come back for us.”
“How long?”
“Three days minimum. Maybe four or five, depending on the storm.” I didn’t mention my concerns about bullet damage causing mechanical failures that could delay things much longer. “We’ll have communications equipment in Puerto Esperanza. Can coordinate pickup once we’re there.”
“And if the weather doesn’t cooperate?”
“Then we adapt. Find alternate transport, wait it out, whatever’s necessary.” I stood, offering her a hand up. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today, we walk.”
The afternoon brought the hurricane’s calling cards. Clouds massed overhead, dark and swollen. The canopy began to sway in fitful gusts, leaves showing their pale undersides. That peculiar pre-storm light painted everything in shades of green and gold.
We made camp early, finding shelter beneath a granite overhang. Lauren worked beside me without being asked, dragging palm fronds and branches to build a windbreak. Her movements were economical, efficient—she’d been paying attention to how I’d done it before.
As darkness gathered, she sorted medical supplies by flashlight while I reinforced our shelter. The first fat raindrops began to fall, promising worse to come.
She looked up from organizing bandages. “Do you mind talking about being in the Marines?”
“Do you have questions?”
“Just general nosy ones. But I can keep them to myself if you don’t like to talk about it.”
“I don’t mind.” I should have deflected. Should have maintained professional distance. Instead, I found myself answering. “The basics are: I enlisted. Made sergeant before I got out.”
“How many tours?”
“Five. Afghanistan, Iraq, back to Afghanistan. And a couple smaller scraps in Africa.”
“That’s a lot of combat time.”
“It’s what I knew how to do.”
She set aside the medical supplies, giving me her full attention. “What made you good at it? And don’t give me the technical answer. What really made you effective?”
The directness of her question caught me off guard. Most people danced around the subject of war, not wanting real answers. Lauren asked like she genuinely wanted to understand who I was beneath the military exterior.
“Staying functional when everything turns to chaos,” I said after a moment. “Making hard choices when there’s no good options. Keeping people breathing when the world’s trying to kill them.”
“Sounds familiar.” She gestured to our current situation with dry humor.
“Different uniform, same basic mission.”
“Is that why you went private sector? To keep protecting people?”
“Partly.” I adjusted my position against the rock wall, trying to get comfortable. “Civilian life felt…meaningless after combat.Like nothing had real consequences. Ethan Cross, owner of Citadel, offered me work that mattered.”
“Do you enjoy it? The protection details, extractions?”
