Undercover Redemption (Sentinels of the VEIL #1)

GABRIELLA

“The missing link between animals and a truly humane mankind is man himself, who does not yet see himself as a part of the world, claiming it instead for his own selfish purposes.”

DR. MICHAEL W. FOX

There! A relieved smile broke across her face as she spotted a handful of turtles breaching the surface to begin their slow pilgrimage up the beach. They made it!

All around her, the rhythmic chatter of her colleagues filled the humid night, their voices hushed in awe as moonlight spilled over both the sand and the shells of the first green sea turtles of the evening.

She’d studied nesting seasons, migration patterns, birth and survival rates, but nothing compared to this; the living pulse of it all under a star-streaked sky.

Despite being forty and recently divorced, she felt as young as when she’d given her presentations on the beauty of marine life in elementary school.

A large green sea turtle broke the surface nearby, cutting a graceful path through the tide before she hauled herself onto the wet sand.

Gabriella’s breath caught as she followed with her notebook, careful to keep her distance.

Regardless of how many times she’d observed sea turtles making their trek up one beach or another to lay eggs—and there had been many times across many beaches over her long career—the sight remained a marvel.

Her heart sped just as quick as the first time.

Still, she could sense a tension in the air. There had been more storms than normal, with climate change at its forefront. Both her and her colleagues had been worried that there would be a shortage of females.

Gabriella’s pencil flew across the page as she scribbled observations: tag number twenty-four, deep ridges on her shell, three small barnacles attached to the top near her neck.

She was quite the sight to behold, measuring nearly four feet, and she had a slight nick in her left flipper.

Despite her mild injury, she cut through the water like a hot butter knife.

Gabriella’s heart thudded at the majesty of it.

From behind her, a warm, accented voice asked, “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she, tica?

” Wisps of hair tickled her neck when she turned enough to see Mateo, the local liaison who served as her expedition’s guide, step closer.

His footsteps had been hidden by the crashing waves that caressed the beach’s striking dark volcanic black and grey sand.

He was a welcome surprise.

She couldn’t help but smile over to him.

“Bella,” she said, using the play of words to highlight both her Costa Rican and Italian heritage.

Afterall, tica was an endearing term used by Costa Ricans towards other natives.

And they had spent the last few months getting to know each other’s background, spending their nights together documenting, tagging, and tracking multiple flotillas.

She now considered him a friend, as well as a helpful colleague.

They both watched the three-hundred pound female turtle labor forward, determined and ancient, and Gabriella peeked over at Mateo.

His six-foot frame towered over her and made her blood sing in ways she was shy to admit aloud.

Mateo was in his forties like her and she had felt a connection with him.

Between her divorce and pre-menopause, she thought herself to be a lost cause.

However, the last few months had been a testament that maybe she had been waiting for the right man.

At least, that’s what she had told herself recently as she worked on building the courage to one day ask him out.

Broad-chested with firm muscles, Gabriella could not help but notice how attractive he was each time they were together.

Dressed in brown cotton pants and a matching button-up, Mateo had an alluring magnetism heightened by his dark hair and even darker brown eyes.

He kept his black hair short, buzzed at the sides, with a well-trimmed beard.

She had spent hours wondering if that beard felt as rough as it looked the few times she brought herself to pleasure.

He carried himself with confidence, which was easy given his athletic build.

And his eye candy forearms definitely help, she thought with a devilish smirk.

He seemed to belong here, as if he were one with the rhythm of the waves and the whisper of the palm trees.

Gabriella’s attention shifted back to the large female turtle’s slow advance on the beach; she was having a hard time scaling the black-grey sand.

“She’s struggling,” Gabriella murmured, her tone soft but heavy with worry.

She’d been working with this conservation committee for months alongside Mateo, who’d been hired around the same time as her.

“Probably just tired from the swim,” Mateo said in agreement. “We should make a note of that for the data compilation."

“Along with tonight’s missing nests …” Her pencil traced the edge of her notebook, jaw tense in recollection and horror of seeing the sand where eggs laid broken.

Naturally an optimist, Gabriella wanted to focus on the positive aspects of this expedition, but she could not ignore the shadows overcasting her research.

She looked up from her notebook and gave Mateo a terse smile.

“It's weird that there's been such an increase.” Her voice cracked as she mumbled, “I wish poachers would quit destroying the turtle nests.”

That was one of the reasons why she was there—to study, catalog, and bring data back to the conservation committee on how society can aim to protect the turtles from a myriad of dangers. From habitat loss and plastic pollution to this startling rise in poaching.

“Still focused on the poachers?” Mateo asked with a grimace. “Gabriella, the government is doing everything they can to prevent it from happening again. We need to trust in them.”

The thin line of his mouth and hardness of his rich brown eyes tightened her chest and quickened her heart in a way she hated.

The few times Gabriella had brought up her suspicions about increased illegal poaching activity, he’d seemed hesitant to delve into it.

It was as if he wanted to redirect the conversation to another topic.

Which, she thought, isn’t surprising. The locals here hate poachers.

Many of them have even lost friends or family to the more violent ones.

She assumed his reluctance stemmed from traumatic memories of a past run-in with the immoral thieves.

Yet, Mateo had often listened to her drone on and on with a patience she knew she didn’t deserve.

Her ex-husband, Justin, had often reminded her of that. “You’re lucky I have the patience of a saint,” he’d say, “with how much drivel you babble.”

She took a deep breath, finding her calm before she allowed herself another tirade about poachers. “It’s hard not to be disillusioned,” was all she said.

“Do you want to go home for the evening? If it’s bothering you that much?

Everyone will understand if you take a night off.

You’ve worked nonstop since you’ve arrived.

” Mateo stepped closer to her, his heat radiating towards her pebbled skin where her traitorous hairs stood on end, as if desperate to touch him.

But she held back, hoping he had stepped closer because he had sensed her mood shifting.

Afterall, it would be more than what her ex used to do.

Stop comparing, she thought to herself when he leaned over to touch her notebook. The metal necklaces he sported dangled before her like bait, asking her to reach out and touch them, dangerously close to his sun kissed skin.

Is it getting suddenly hot? It sure felt like it despite being a cool seventy degrees.

She cleared her throat. “No. There’s been an increase in nesting sites being plundered, and I’ve even written down a few I saw tonight in my notes,” she said, pointing with her pencil to a few coordinates she listed.

Mateo’s dark brows rose. “I always seem to forget how meticulous you are with your notes.” He hummed to himself before he nodded, his expression shadowed. “With all of us working together, I’m sure they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“Not soon enough,” she said with a sigh.

She pulled her leather bound notebook closer to her and made a note about the newest female that was cresting the beach.

“I don’t know how anyone could be so heartless to hurt sea turtles.

I mean, look at them!” Gabriella waved her pencil, gesturing to the dozens of lumbering figures scattered across the beach. “Look at how cute they are!”

“People can be cruel when there’s money to be made and few choices about how to make it,” Mateo replied with a somber tone. He cleared his throat before he asked, “You still think your research can save them?”

She beamed a smile at him. “The data we’ve been able to collect about their mating patterns, nesting sites, and migration routes will be hugely beneficial to the scientific community.”

Which was true. Each data point they sent helped every year with cataloging whether the species was dying or not. She had a feeling that Mateo cared deeply for the turtles himself given he bore a giant tattoo of one across his chest that she had snuck glances at.

His brown eyes crinkled towards her, the light of the moon making them look warm and mysterious, and she felt the air escape her lungs. Why is he so sinfully attractive?

“Are you always trying to save something, Dr. Valentino?” he asked, a small grin tugging at his mouth.

He said her formal name in a teasing manner before looking out to the ocean.

It had been one of prides, finishing her degree to come pursue her passion here in Costa Rica, leaving behind years of pain.