that Joe had some dark secrets up his sleeve. Since I wanted to know what they were, I sat down to write Joe’s story.
A U.S. Marine like Joe, a hunk who could give Mel Gibson a run for his money, needs a very special heroine. I got her name first. Prudence. Yes, a bad boy like Joe would need a prudent woman, one who wouldn’t melt at his first sexy smile, one who could see past his charm to the tortured soul inside.
Prudence has secrets, too. She knows what it is like to be consumed with guilt, so she wants to help Joe. But help isn’t something a U.S. Marine accepts easily, especially not from his commanding officer’s daughter!
I’ve loved writing about these heroic men who abide by the Marine Corps values of honor, courage and commitment. Come on, admit it—there’s just something special about a man in a U.S. Marine dress blues uniform! I hope you enjoy Joe and Prudence’s story and watch for more stories from me about these men of honor.
I enjoy hearing from my readers, so please visit my Web site at www.comet.net/writers/linz.
All the best,
Contents
Chapter One
“So, Wilder, I hear you jumped off another bridge this weekend.” Joe Wilder’s commanding officer pinned him with a steely-eyed glare. In his late forties, his military haircut tipped with gray, Sergeant Major Richard Martin had a drill instructor’s voice and a warrior’s demeanor. He reminded Joe of his own father.
“Actually I bungee-jumped, sir,” Joe corrected him with the utmost respect, trying to ignore the way the North Carolina sun bounced off the bright white walls of the Sergeant Major’s office. The glare made his head pound. He’d woken at 0600 hours with the mother of all hangovers. Joe knew he was in bad shape when merely looking at white wall paint made his head hurt. “I was attached to the structure with a cord.”
“I don’t care if you were attached to the structure with superglue,” Sergeant Major Martin growled. “You still jumped off. And I don’t approve. The
United States Marine Corps has spent a lot of time and money on your training, Wilder. I’d hate to see it all wasted with you splattered on a slab of concrete or some rocky riverbed somewhere. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you like jumping out off things that much, you should become a paratrooper.”
“Understood, sir.”
“I certainly hope so, Wilder.” Sergeant Major Martin tapped the folder on his desk impatiently. The sound was amplified tenfold by Joe’s hangover, but he showed no outward sign of his discomfort. A Marine never showed signs of discomfort. Honor, courage, commitment. These were the Marine Corps values. Not discomfort. Not guilt.
“Since you’ve been under my command your off-duty antics have gotten wilder and wilder,” Sergeant Major Martin continued. “Why is that?”
Because the risk-taking made Joe feel alive. That’s why he did it. To get away from the ever-present nightmares that seemed to be eating him up inside, to escape from the pain and the guilt.
Not that he’d ever tell Sergeant Major Martin that. Not that he’d tell anyone that. Everyone thought Joe was just a wild thrill-seeker. Wilder. It wasn’t just his name, it had become his attitude.
Which was fine by him. But apparently not fine by his commanding officer. “Your aforementioned wild behavior stops as of right now,” the older man ordered in a clipped voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be turning over a new leaf. Starting immediately. I’d like you to escort my daughter’s sixth-grade class for a tour of the base here.”
Joe blinked, certain he couldn’t have heard correctly. “Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“I am not that familiar with the base yet, sir,” Joe felt compelled to say. He’d only recently been assigned here to Camp Lejeune in coastal North Carolina after completing an overseas deployment he’d rather not think about. Ever. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to give a tour.”
“I think you’re qualified, Wilder, and that’s all that matters. I did plan on having Sergeant Brown do the honors, but he had to have emergency surgery last night on a ruptured appendix. So you’ll be taking his place.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And after you give them the tour, you’ll be going with them this afternoon on a weekend field trip up into the mountains.”
“A field trip, sir?”
“That’s right, Wilder. Why the look? Surely after your Marine training, not to mention your love of extreme sport activities, you’re not telling me you’re afraid of a bunch of kids?”
“No, sir.” That much was true. Afraid didn’t even come close to the feelings churning in Joe’s gut. Panic would be a much more accurate description.
“Glad to hear it. The class is waiting for you down the hall in conference room 1013. Once you’ve completed the tour, you’ll have one hour to gather the necessary equipment, sleeping bag, etc., that you’ll need for a weekend camping trip. The route is already laid out for you, following
