Jose funneled the pebbles through his fist into his other palm. “Sutton, you can’t beat yourself up over what’s in the past. You’re alive.”
“Not everybody made it out that way. Thing is, I don’t know if I could do any better now. I’m still so scared I could piss myself.”
“No shame in that.” He poured the pebbles back into his other hand.
“Easy for you to say. You’re a superhero.”
Superhero? Crap. Stella had called him that once. Too bad nothing could be further from the truth. “We all have our kryptonite.”
“What’s yours?”
Alcohol. Stella. Yeah, he had two great big weaknesses. He dumped the small stones onto the ground. “Enough sharing. Get some sleep. Your chatter’s distracting me from my job.”
“It’s Stella, isn’t it? She’s yours… but she’s living her dream to be a student abroad?”
He stayed silent. Was the kid digging? More than once he’d hinted that he knew she had a deeper reason for being here. Had her cover been blown?
“She’s smart. Pretty.”
His jaw clamped tight, possessive instincts roaring. Whoa. Wait. Was this kid going somewhere else with his questions? “Do you have a point?”
Sutton shook his head. “Not really. Just wondering what kind of guy lets a woman like her get away.”
Great. Now even the kid was calling him out on his idiocy. As if he didn’t already know. “Prop your ankle on the log. It’ll keep the swelling down.”
Sutton set aside the shield. “Are you dudes SEALs or what?”
“Special Operations involves a number of different branches—SEALs, Rangers, Green Berets, pararescuemen.”
“Which are you?”
“Pararescuemen—sometimes known as pararescue jumpers, PJs.”
“Were you all PJs?”
Nosy little dude. “Does it matter?”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Do you really need to know?” Was the kid more than a student too? Government agencies kept secrets from each other all the time.
“Point made. Thanks to all those movies and documentaries and books, I’ve heard all about SEALs. Tell me more about these PJs.”
Jose scanned the perimeter, monitoring every shifting branch and shadow, assessing every scratch or crackle. For now, all could be chalked up to nature. “We rescue. Let’s just say we PJs thank God the SEALs are on our side and the SEALs thank God for us when they need someone to haul their asses out.”
“Kinda like ‘you f**k up, we pick up’?”
Sounded like the kid knew a little about the PJs after all. Kid? Sutton was around twenty-two. Jose had had four years of active duty military service under his belt by then.
Jose just stared back, silently, until a rustling from the lean-to pulled his attention off the kid. Rolling to his feet, he landed in a crouch by instinct. Weapon drawn, he scanned the dark.
Stella raised a hand. “Hold on. Just me.”
Jose lowered his gun. “Sorry to have woken you.”
“You didn’t. I’m too wired to sleep long. Once we get out of here, though, I’ll be comatose for days.” Sitting up, she pulled the wrap around her shoulders like a shawl. “PJs don’t like to talk about themselves.”
“Then let’s not,” Jose said, night sounds humming in agreement.