The Marine's Return

He can’t be her hero...

But he made a promise to keep her safe

Wounded marine Chad Corallis just wants to be left alone. Until he discovers his best friend’s very pregnant widow is in danger. A dedicated nurse, she refuses to leave her Serengeti medical clinic when it’s threatened by poachers. Chad is honor-bound to protect her, but who will save him from falling for his best friend’s wife?

Award-winning and USA TODAY bestselling author RULA SINARA lives in rural Virginia with her family and crazy but endearing pets. She loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard, planting trees, raising backyard chickens and drinking more coffee than she’ll ever admit to. Rula’s writing has earned her a National Readers’ Choice Award and a HOLT Medallion of Merit, among other honours. Her door is always open at www.rulasinara.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, learn about her latest books and find links to her social media hangouts.

Also by Rula Sinara

From Kenya, with Love

The Promise of Rain

After the Silence

Through the Storm

Every Serengeti Sunrise

The Twin Test

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

The Sweetheart Tree

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Marine’s Return

Rula Sinara

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09087-2

THE MARINE’S RETURN

© 2018 Rula Sinara

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to military men and women—

active duty, veterans, wounded warriors, those who

gave their lives—and to their families. Thank you for

your service and sacrifice.

And a special series dedication—for it began with and

has always been for…the elephants.

Acknowledgements

To Catherine Lanigan for your friendship and contagious, uplifting energy. Your heartfelt support and words of encouragement gave me the courage and confidence to keep writing when I needed it most.

Thank you for believing in me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

MARINE SERGEANT CHAD CORALLIS pressed his shoulder against the crumbling clay wall that ran along the outskirts of the remote village. His nostrils burned from the caustic stench of rotting food scraps and trash bags baking in the scorching sun only a few feet away. But he kept his eyes peeled on the one-story building that stood in a gated courtyard across the street. His war dog, Aries, stayed in position at his side.

Chad adjusted his helmet then held up two fingers and pointed twice in the direction of the only other nearby structure, signaling for his men to head there. Corporal Jaxon, the youngest member of their squad at eighteen, nodded and passed the order on to the three men behind him. In a flash, Chad had his M27 aimed over the wall to cover the team as they began to move.

Jaxon led them, crouched low, to their new position—the roofless remnants of an old shop that had been stripped and beaten by years of war. A field of red poppies streaked across the landscape like an ominous river of blood flowing from the dusty, bleak village.

His men were well trained.

They’d survive this.

They had this.

The squad had captured multiple insurgents in Kandahar without a loss to the platoon. They’d endured unfathomably brutal conditions last winter at their outpost, working alongside Afghan troops to take down a Taliban stronghold. They’d even survived an ambush between Marjah and Nawa. Barely, but they were here now.

Still in Helmand Province.

Still alive.

He shifted, rising just enough to scan the street before moving to his next position. A woman draped in a burka walked briskly down the street, tugging on the hand of a little girl who’d dropped her doll. Every detail registered...the tall, lanky build of the woman, a curtain fluttering in a window across the street, a scruffy dog sniffing its way toward the trash...

Chad muttered a curse and kept firm control of Aries. He willed the other dog to stay away. One bark by either and they’d be sitting ducks.

He motioned for his men to wait. Adrenaline sizzled in his veins. He aimed his M27 and prepped for their cover to be blown.

Someone called out a name in Pashto and the dog trotted off down a narrow alley to the left. The girl grasped for her doll, as her mother held her hand tight and tried hurrying her along. Chad took two deep breaths...the kind he used to take as a kid before diving into the crisp waters of a crystal-clear pool on a swim with his sister and brothers.

He was doing this for them. For all the innocents out there...families, children, parents, loved ones. People all over the world who deserved the priceless, innate human right of peace of mind. The right to know they were safe from harm. But evil was a slippery, elusive, son of a—

A bead of sweat trailed along his throbbing temple and hit the corner of his eye. He blinked it away and focused. He was born to do this. His father was a marine. Being in the armed forces—fighting evil—was in his blood. Failing wasn’t. He looked from the road to his men.

They were in position. They knew the target’s coordinates. What in God’s name was taking so long for the final order? He waited to hear his commander’s voice come through his earpiece. He itched to move. Every cell in him was on fire.

The order came through.

Jaxon and the seven others on his team abandoned their cover and headed for the target, just as a small cart rolled down the street toward them like tumbleweed through a ghost town. The little girl pulled free from her mother’s grasp, scooped up her doll and ran toward the cart. Her mother yelled and ran after her.

Something was off. The cart was rolling too slowly. It was too close to his men. Too close to the little girl. And there was no sign of its owner coming after it. Aries growled and tugged.

“Fall back! Fall back!”

Chad leaped over the wall and ran like hell toward the cart, Aries at his heels.

Jaxon’s gaze jerked to Chad then to the cart. Then he looked once more at Chad, his eyes glazed with an eerie calm...and an unflinching resolve. Jaxon pushed the others out of his way and ran to intercept the cart.

“No!” Chad couldn’t let him do it. Images of his younger brothers filled his head. Family. These men were his brothers, too.

He had to protect them. He had to protect the innocent, too.

The child stopped in her tracks, green eyes wide with fear at the sight of his men. Her mother picked her up and ran.

Chad’s pulse pounded in his ears as he ran. Two more feet. He had to make it. He would.

The cart closed in. Jaxon lunged toward it. Chad collided with him, grabbed his arm and threw him to the left while shoving the cart as hard as he could to their right. It rolled a couple of feet before it stalled against a small rock...

And detonated.

CHAPTER ONE

6½ Months Later

LEBOO STEELED HIMSELF against the metallic stench of blood and the sight of ripped flesh. What if there was a trail of blood leading here? What if he got caught? It didn’t matter at this point. He had no choice. He had to put his family first. That’s what brave ones did. They were fearless. They hardened their heart if that’s what it took to face danger or death. He was being tested. And he would prove himself worthy. Of being a man. A protector.

He pulled the roll of bandage wrap out of his pocket along with a handful of herbs he’d learned were good for clotting. It had to be enough until he could get his hands on something for infection. He eyed the gun that lay against the mass of mangled roots that formed the cave-like thicket camouflaged by a copse of elephant pepper trees and tall clumps of savannah grasses. He had to try. He had to stay alive. He’d do whatever he had to do...even if it meant killing.

* * *

LEXI GALEN TAPPED the syringe and slowly depressed the plunger until the last bubble of air escaped. Finally, the last vaccination for the day. She was so tired.

Maybe she shouldn’t have traveled so far yesterday. They’d taken their mobile medical unit to a Luo village farther north, closer to Lake Victoria. She wasn’t going to be able to endure those longer trips much longer, not now that she was well into her eighth month of pregnancy. She’d have to plan to stay closer to the rustic clinic she manned near the outskirts of the Masai Mara.

But that meant sacrificing patient care. There were children and other pregnant women in those more distant tribal villages who were counting on her. One was barely old enough to be called a woman.

She refocused on the patient at hand. “This will be over as fast as a cheetah can run,” she promised.

The little Masai boy clung to his mother and pressed his cheek against the numerous rows of orange, red and blue glass beads that adorned her chest.

“I’ll need you to hold him still for a moment,” Lexi said to the boy’s mother. Between the few words of broken Swahili she’d learned over the past five months and many of the villagers understanding English, the clinics were running more smoothly than when she’d first moved here.

Learning Maa was proving to be a little harder, but she was determined to at least understand the native Masai language before her baby became a toddler. She wanted her child to learn it, too...just as Tony would have wanted.

Lexi planned to build a life on the Serengeti, and she wanted to embrace everything about the land, including the people, languages and culture.

She swabbed and stuck the little boy’s arm. He wailed as all the others had...an aching sound that crushed her heart. Bless their hearts, she couldn’t blame them. They were too young to ignore the pain...too young to understand that she wanted to help them, not hurt them.

She’d learned to tune out children crying during her nursing career, for the most part, but today it was wearing her down. Her head hurt. Her lower back and legs ached more than they had in months.

She wasn’t complaining. Well, she wanted to, but she had no right to. This had been her idea. Her call. She had made the decision to drop everything, quit her position as a hospital RN in the US and move to Africa, pregnant and alone.

She glanced up and waved at the little boy as he and his mother left the clinic grounds. The child clung to his mother’s hand and disappeared with her down the stone-lined dirt path and around a copse of wild fig trees.

Here she was, in the middle of this vast, mesmerizing wilderness...but not far enough away to forget. Everything back in their apartment in America had reminded her of the way Tony must have suffered. The burn scars that had rendered him unrecognizable to anyone but her had haunted her. They still did.

He’d been a dedicated military doctor. They’d met less than a year prior to getting married, though they’d tried to stay in touch as much as possible during his tours in Afghanistan. They had talked every chance they could, despite the time difference. They’d been married only three weeks before he had returned to duty. His last tour. Technology had its advantages, but it couldn’t bring back the dead.

Sometimes she wondered if the fact that there had been a screen between them during much of their relationship had helped them to open up to each other more quickly. She’d never spoken as honestly about her past as she had to Tony. He’d known her parents had gone to prison on charges of fraud and embezzlement. Something no one else knew.

Her parents had been takers. Greedy in a way Lexi had sworn she’d never be. She was only nine years old when they were imprisoned. But it wasn’t until almost a year later, after being shuffled from one foster home to another, that she’d realized she would never live with her parents again. There had been no other relatives to take her in. She’d never forget her tenth birthday. That night, she had gone outside long after everyone in the house was in bed, sat in the cool grass and wished desperately on a star for a permanent family. One made up of good, loving people who cared about others. Givers.

But instead of getting her wish, her foster mother found her curled up in the dewy grass that morning and yelled at her for unlocking the door and wandering outside after midnight. The concern hadn’t been for her safety. She’d supposedly put the house at risk of getting robbed. That day had hardened her...made her a survivor. Relying on hopes, dreams and wishes wasn’t enough. She had to rely on herself.

And if the other children—fosters and non-fosters—she’d spent time with during her patchwork tween and teen years hadn’t been strong enough to rely on themselves, she’d taken care of them, too. That had led her to nursing school and, later, to Tony.

They’d met at the hospital during one of his short leaves in the States. He had been visiting a young woman—a medic—who’d been wounded while en route to the field hospital where he was stationed. Lexi had felt an instant connection with Tony. So immediate, it had scared her at first.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from loving him. He had been just as open with her as she had been with him. He’d been an only child, too, except he’d had good parents. He’d been raised in Kenya and had grown up with his best friend who’d been like a brother to him. A brother who hadn’t been able to make it to her and Tony’s wedding because of his deployment. But Tony had promised he’d introduce her to him someday.

He’d also promised she would never be alone again.

Ever.

The last time they’d been together had been the final day of his leave, only three weeks into their marriage. He’d proposed as soon as he had returned home from duty and they were married that week. In retrospect, she wondered if he’d somehow sensed he might not make it back and it had been his way of ensuring that he kept his promise in one form or another. They had married, honeymooned locally...then he’d had to return to duty. And then their life together ended. Just like that. He’d been gone less than two weeks when he was injured.

She’d rushed to be by his side but he’d been in a medically induced coma. One he never awoke from.

His death had felt like the sharp edge of a knife twisting and carving its way through her chest. She’d lost everything that day. She’d thought she had nothing left to lose...until she’d discovered she was pregnant on the day of his funeral.

Lexi’s eyes burned from the memory. She blinked and sniffed to stop any tears from falling, then focused on clearing her clinic supplies. She needed to keep her head. Tony had never been comfortable around emotional outbursts or signs of weakness. She needed to stay strong for him...for his baby.

This had been Tony’s dream—to complete his service as a marine medic then return to his father’s native Kenya to set up a clinic and provide medical care to tribal villages that were in dire need. After he’d told her about visiting his grandmother at a Masai village, Lexi had understood his vision. She’d assured him she’d wanted to be part of it and they’d had their future here all planned out. Living in Kenya would be a fresh start for her...a way to leave the past behind and build a future with family.

They were supposed to be here, in Kenya’s wild west, working side by side. And even though Tony had died, there was no way she could let that dream die. Being here honored him. Being here was the only way she knew how to stay strong. And for all the broken promises she’d suffered in her life, she would never break the one she’d whispered to him moments before he was gone—that she would find a way to fulfill their dream to bring medical care to the Masai and other tribes. She’d do it for him. She’d do it for the only family she’d ever had.

She picked up a small box of supplies off the table and headed for the storage room built against the side of their bungalow. They always had the exam tent on the other side of the clinic camp stocked, but there wasn’t enough room there to store all their supplies.

“I finished the inventory,” her assistant, Jacey, said, knotting her long dark hair at the nape of her neck. “We need more alcohol wipes and gauze bandages. Everything else is good for now. I don’t know where all these supplies went, though. I could have sworn we had more, but I guess between all the clinics we held this week and yesterday’s trip, we used more than anticipated. I’ll restock in here first thing in the morning.”

Lexi was lucky to have Jacey, who had been working as a tech assistant out here at least three to four months before Lexi signed on.

“Makes sense. Thanks for making a list. What would I do without you? I’ll add them to the order this evening. I need to eat first,” Lexi said.

Lexi set the box she was carrying on an empty spot and headed back to the folding table where she’d been vaccinating kids. Jacey followed her out to the central, courtyard-like clearing where they held outdoor clinics, and grabbed another box off of the table. Lexi picked up the hard, plastic, biohazard container carrying discarded needles, then returned to the storage room.

“How are you holding up?” Jacey pulled a key out from around her neck and locked the dented metal cabinet that housed their vaccine and antibiotic vials, HIV screening supplies and prescription pills for most of the conditions they encountered. Less expensive supplies, such as bandages, were kept in a separate cabinet, unlocked because it didn’t come with one, but secure enough to keep dust and insects out of it. Besides, they always locked the storage room door, too. The only place some things weren’t secured was in the exam tent, but they were always in and out of it and it was easily seen from the bungalow across the clearing. Lexi set the biohazard container down.

In the grand scheme of things, they had meager supplies considering the number of people they saw in a day. Inadequate supplies, really, given the conditions she was treating. The fact that they couldn’t do more for some of the tribal children and their parents ate away at Lexi every night.

It roused memories of when one of her foster “sisters,” a girl five years younger, had come down with a fever, yet instead of using the foster check to buy medicine or to pay for a doctor’s visit or even to make soup, their foster mom had simply given her acetaminophen and told her to stay in bed. Had it not been for Lexi caring for the little girl, no one would have comforted her, given her cold cloths or gotten up at night to check on her.

But medicine itself had limits, too. Doctors and nurses hadn’t been able to do more for Tony, either, and he’d had access to state-of-the-art medicine and the best care possible. The burns and shrapnel wounds had been more than Tony’s body could handle.

“I’m okay. Could use food and a nap, though,” she said, as Jacey followed her back outside. “Where’s Taj?”

Taj, a medical resident, came out to the clinic most weekends and was always willing to help out in any capacity. With only three of them on staff, even the most menial duties were shared. Right now, Lexi needed him to take down the temporary canopy they’d used for shade. She knew better than to try to take it down herself. At this point in her pregnancy, into her thirty-fifth week, balance and coordination were not her forte. Besides, it was more weight than she was willing to risk carrying. Her baby came first.

“Taj will be here in a sec. He’s still in the exam tent, finishing up with the older fellow with the abscess on his foot. You can wash up. We’re basically done,” Jacey said.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Go on. We’ve got this. I’ll help him take down the canopy, too.”

Lexi squeezed Jacey’s shoulder and smiled her thanks as she dragged her feet to the bungalow that served as their living quarters. She lumbered up the three steps to the bungalow’s front porch, ducked inside to grab a bottle of water, then headed back out onto their narrow front porch. She collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs. There was more of a breeze out here than inside. Plus, she liked closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of Africa. The trumpeting, roars, high-pitched calls and rumbles all made her feel at home. It was a natural lullaby. It made up for the rustic and outdated living quarters.

The small plaster-and-clay bungalow they lived in had two tiny, dorm-size rooms with cots for sleeping, a kitchenette and the main sitting room—still small—where clinic records were stored in a file cabinet against the wall. Jacey and Lexi shared one room and either the clinic’s founding doctor, Hope Alwanga, or Taj used the other, depending on who was covering the weekend.