Chapter 10 Marcus
MARCUS
We fall into a steady rhythm on the trail. Allegra walks ahead, and I stay behind, scanning the tree line and the path. Alert for any trace of the people following us.
I plot out a new route that cuts into the trees and steers clear of the main pathways, only coming out where Allegra has to take her samples.
All pretense of keeping ten feet behind her has disappeared. She stops often, pulling out her notebook or camcorder to mumble notes into it, her soft voice rising and falling as she gets excited about something she’s found.
At her next waypoint, she sets her pack down and pulls out her camcorder.
While she does the recording and takes the sample, I pull out my binoculars and scan the area.
But my gaze drifts back to Allegra. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind.
Her face furrows in concentration as she slips the sample into a compartment in her sample bag. A bead of sweat trickles down her forehead. She’s so focused on her samples; she’s not looking after herself.
I pull out my canteen and offer it to her. She looks up at me, surprised, as if only remembering I’m here.
“You need to drink.”
It comes out harsher than I intended. She takes the canteen and mutters her thanks.
I haven’t seen her eat since our last stop, so I hand her one of my precious few protein bars. She scarfs it down, stuffs the wrapper in her pocket, shoulders her pack, and on we go.
The shadows are getting long when we stop for the night. We’ve come inland from the river, and it’s the first time we’ve camped without it on one side. It makes our position vulnerable, but it’s the best we can do.
Allegra managed to procure a couple of cans of beans from the general store, along with some fresh vegetables. She hums as she gets the campfire going. It’s nice to hear her voice. She chops the vegetables and adds them to the pot while I set the perimeter.
I choose a spot for the shelter with a boulder on one side and a thicket on the other. I set up the tarpaulin and drag fallen branches over it to give us more shelter and camouflage.
By the time the sun sets, the tent is ready, and Allegra has a pot bubbling over the camp stove. I drag a log from the undergrowth and perch on it. I pull out a food pouch, but Allegra shakes her head.
“Save that,” she says. “Tonight, we’re eating gourmet.”
I peer into the pot and find beans mixed with mushrooms and carrots, the only vegetables available at the store.
“Looks five-star,” I tell her.
“That’s ‘gourmet stew,’ thank you very much.”
She laughs and hands me a fresh pita bread. I tear it apart, then stuff beans and vegetables inside. After living on ration packs, it tastes like heaven.
“Not just a renowned scientist,” I murmur appreciatively. “You’re also a world-class chef.”
Allegra takes a bite and makes a face.
“It could use some seasoning. Chilli, sour cream, and corn chips would go really well.”
She moans softly at the thought of her imagined meal, and the sound reverberates through me. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of watching her eat a decent meal.
“Sounds like you’re describing tacos,” I tell her. “There’s a place in Hope that does the best tacos on the mountain.”
She raises her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty bold claim. I’d have to do a scientific experiment and try every taco place on the mountain.”
I shrug. “Since I’m practically your research assistant, I’ll have to come along.”
She laughs, but I’m deadly serious. Allegra thinks I’m joking. She doesn’t realize I’ve just asked her on a date—a lot of dates—which is a bad idea. I laugh too, pretending it was nothing.
The fire crackles as we finish the meal in silence, and I try to imagine a world where I could do something as simple as take a girl like Allegra out on a date.
Allegra produces another pita bread, tears it in half, and offers me the other side.
“Want to lick the bowl?”
She dips her bread into the pot, scooping up the last of the sauce. She holds the pot out to me, and I scoot closer. When I dip my bread in, our fingers brush. My knee bumps hers, and every point of contact sparks. Allegra pops her bread into her mouth and smiles at me through her mouthful.
“This is good.”
She seems relaxed, more so than she has all trip.
It’s time to get some answers.
“So what is it you’re really doing out here?” I ask.
Her wary eyes flick to mine. “I applied for a grant for my PhD.” She shakes her head and stares into the fire. “It was rejected.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I had a great application. My theory was sound.”
“Then why did they reject it?”
She plays with the last of her bread, tearing it into pieces without eating. “Everyone thinks I’m lucky to grow up with my father, who he is. And I know my position comes with privileges most people can’t even dream of. But sometimes I wish it didn’t.
“I got into that course on my own merit. But because my father gave a donation to the science department, no one believed it. Not my fellow students, not my professors. I had to work twice as hard to prove I deserved to be there. It’s hard enough being a woman in this industry, but being the daughter of a tech billionaire? No one took me seriously.
“When I applied for the grant for my PhD, Professor Wainwright couldn’t wait to reject it.”
“But surely it wasn’t just him. There’d have to be a panel?”
“Oh, there was. And I did have allies, but his was the deciding vote. He said—and I quote, “In good conscience, I can’t spend the university’s money on something that could be funded privately.”
Her voice is laced not quite with bitterness, but with resignation.
“So you decided to do it anyway?”
“Yes. He was right about that. I can fund it myself.” She shrinks a little.
“Yes and no. Without the backing of a university, it doesn’t hold much sway.
What are the papers going to say? The field is based on evidence, which must come from robust analysis.
I’m one person collecting samples. I’ve got no institution behind me. ”
My mind wanders. “Why do it then? Why do it alone? Couldn’t you bring a team? At least then you’d have people to show.”
Her brows pull together. “I don’t need a team. My entire career I’ve gotten where I am by working alone, by working hard. What’s the point of having a team here?”
I bite my tongue. She’s determined and tough. But everyone needs a team.
“That’s why I’m recording everything. My intention was to upload at every stop. But I got distracted when the package wasn’t there. My samples may not prove beyond a doubt that mining runoff is seeping into the water supply, but they’ll open a conversation.
They won’t be able to ignore me. I’m hoping it’ll get me the grant to come back, to prove it beyond doubt.”
Her voice grows stronger, her determination shining. She’s more resolute than half the men I’ve worked with. And suddenly I realize how close we are. In the firelight, her face is open, vulnerable. Behind the determination is a woman who just wants to prove herself.
“You’re brave.”
She glances up at me, and her expression softens. The firelight softens her features even more, making her appear vulnerable. A wisp of hair trails across her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb, giving in to my desire to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, if only for an instant.
My gaze flicks to her lips, and they part slightly, an invitation.
My pulse quickens, and I glance up at her to make sure.
Her gaze lingers on mine, and her breathing comes hard.
Without a word, I lean in and brush my lips against hers.
It’s the softest kiss, and her breath on my lips carries the scent of warm bread.
Her eyes widen, then she kisses me back—slow, soft, and sure. My hand slides up over her neck, tangling in her hair. She tastes as good as I imagined, and I lose myself in her warmth. I tug her closer, deepening the kiss as my hand caresses the back of her neck.
Then reality slams back in and we both pull away, breathless.
I stand up quickly, needing to put distance between us before I do something I shouldn’t. A flicker of disappointment crosses Allegra’s face.
“We’d better pack this up for the night.”
She schools her expression and nods. We both know this isn’t a good idea.
An hour later, I lie on my back, pressed against Allegra in the shared sleeping bag. Every brush of her skin sparks longing, and the air between us feels charged.
We don’t speak of the kiss. It’s a mutual understanding that nothing can happen. Not while we’re out here. Not while I’m working for her father.
This is a mission, I remind myself. The mission is to keep her safe, not to give in to my needs.
Beside me, she shifts restlessly. I wonder if her heart is thumping like mine. My shoulder aches, but it’s nothing compared to the ache I feel for her.
I lie awake, listening to the night. The sound that fills my head is Allegra’s breathing—gentle, steady. I notice when it deepens into sleep.
I risk rolling over. In the dim light of the moon, I can just make out her features, soft and calm.
This was supposed to be a mission. So why does it feel like the start of something I won’t be able to walk away from?