A danger she can’t understand

Claire Olsen has been in Seoul, South Korea, for only one month. She doesn’t know anyone—aside from her roommate and her colleagues at the medical center—and she certainly doesn’t know why someone would attack her. Desperate to forget about the violent mugging, Claire tries to focus on her nursing, but one man won’t let her hide from the truth.

Naval intelligence officer Luke Llewellyn is determined to keep Claire safe, whether she wants him to or not. But finding out why she’s been targeted means helping Claire unearth the secrets of her past. And following his heart means trusting Claire with his own secrets….

“Claire, I think those men may have been trying to kill you.”

She surged to her feet and took several steps away before whirling around to face him again. “That’s impossible!” she said. “I don’t know anyone in Seoul. I’ve only been here a few weeks, for goodness sake. Look, you’ve obviously made some sort of error.”

Luke remained seated, still trying to keep a low profile. “I’m sorry, Claire. There is no mistake.”

Claire bit her lip then started over. “I appreciate your concern. You’ve gone above and beyond. But there’s no reason anyone would want to hurt me.”

Luke sighed. “Please at least consider the possibility. Don’t go anywhere alone and pay attention to your surroundings…. And, if anything remotely suspicious happens, contact the hospital security guards or the police and the embassy.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a small smile.

His own lips turned up slightly, but he still looked frustrated. There seemed to be nothing left to say. The interview was over.

Dear Reader,

My husband and I lived in Seoul, South Korea, for three years (2008–2011). While there I volunteered at a large “orphanage” (adoption agency), which was the basis for the one depicted in the book, though the name has been changed. On any given day, between 35 and 65 newborns were housed at that location. They lived there until about two to three weeks of age, when they were sent to a foster home. Occasionally, it was obvious that one of the infants was biracial; the idea for the character of Claire came from one such tiny baby.

While in Seoul, I also volunteered for the American Red Cross unit at Yongsan Army Garrison. The character of Luke was loosely inspired by an officer stationed there. Like Luke, this young man was a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and “loaned” to Yongsan as an intelligence officer. Many of the situations and dealings between the South Koreans and North Koreans described in the book are based on actual circumstances. The characters, however, are fictional.

Finally, as mentioned in the story, South Korea—the Land of the Morning Calm—is a lovely and very safe country, with warm and welcoming residents. Hopefully, one day, you will have the opportunity to visit.

I hope you enjoy the story of Claire and Luke!

Melanie Mitchell

The Nurse’s Bodyguard

Melanie Mitchell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MELANIE MITCHELL

is a native of Texas. With her husband, Scott, Melanie has lived in Belgium, South Korea and a number of cities in the United States. She has traveled throughout the U.S.A., Canada, Europe, Asia, Africa and the Middle East. Melanie draws on her travels and work abroad to bring a variety of settings, experiences and an understanding of different cultures into her work.

Melanie has been a registered nurse for many years and currently teaches nursing in the Houston area. While she has written extensively—nursing textbooks and articles—she recently turned to her love of romantic suspense. The Nurse’s Bodyguard is her second novel.

For Pamela, who inspired me to write fiction, and Roz, my best friend from Korea. Thank you both for your love and support.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!—

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From “A Psalm of Life”

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Seoul, South Korea

MARY CLAIRE OLSEN smiled shyly and said good-night to the security guard sitting at a large desk near the entrance of the Samsung Medical Center. Exiting through the automatic doors, she shifted her purse to her other shoulder and buttoned her white lab coat. The spring night was cool, but a little hazy, which was apparently typical for the city during April.

Having been in Seoul for a month, Claire had established a routine. The apartment she was sharing wasn’t that far from the hospital. She could take the subway home—the nearest stop was only two blocks away—or she could catch a cab. Although taxis cost a little more than the subway, the silver cabs were readily available, usually clean and remarkably cheap. Traveling by taxi often took a bit longer because traffic was heavy, but Claire was tired. It was almost eleven and she’d put in more than twelve hours at the hospital, so she decided to find a cab.

Claire headed for the street, walking through the large, well-lit parking lot. Positive memories and cheerful thoughts bounced through her mind as she wove her way among the late-model Korean or Japanese sedans and occasional SUVs. It had been a good day. Most of the children on the hematology/oncology unit were doing well with their treatments. She recalled the smiles of the children as well as the grateful expressions on the faces of their parents. Compared to that her fatigue was secondary. Nonetheless, she was looking forward to a hot shower and bed.

She glanced at her watch and quickened her pace. If she got home soon, she’d probably have time to Skype her parents before Mom left for school. The fifteen-hour time difference between Seoul and Minneapolis was sometimes a challenge, but she and her parents had been amazed to discover that communicating with people literally on the other side of the world was as easy as installing a tiny camera on the computer and hitting a few buttons.

Focused on her plans, Claire didn’t pay attention to the two men who approached her. Even if she had been more engaged, she wouldn’t have perceived them as a threat. Seoul had a reputation as an extremely safe city. Crime, particularly personal crime, was very rare.

Without warning, Claire had a sharp, overwhelming feeling of danger. Only a heartbeat later she felt a hand grab for her. Whether she’d been alerted by a muffled sound, a perception of movement, or simply intuition, Claire suddenly felt compelled to pivot quickly and dive to one side. A man dressed in a dark jacket, his face obscured by a hoodie, lunged after her and arched a fist in her direction. Reflexively, she stumbled backward—narrowly missing the punch—but in doing so, she smacked solidly into the second man. He tried to grab her, but she ducked and flailed in his direction with her elbow. Her blow was partially deflected by his leather coat, but Claire was able to throw off his grasping hands and pull away

Fueled by an adrenaline rush and pure survival instinct, Claire succeeded in putting a Hyundai SUV between herself and the men. Her heart pounded painfully and she tried to scream, but she knew her anemic shriek couldn’t be heard beyond the parking lot. Trying to control her panic, she turned to run back toward the hospital.

Within two steps, however, one of the men grabbed her lab coat, halting her progress. She sensed another blow coming and held up her purse as a shield. Rather than a fist, a knife sliced through the purse and tore into the flesh of her forearm. This time, her scream was much louder, startling her assailants. In that instant, she dropped her purse and staggered back, trying again to flee the attackers. They quickly recovered and followed.

The tenacity her parents had commented on a hundred times saved her life. Although Claire could feel blood dripping from her arm, she turned around and kicked high and hard with her right leg, catching the man with the knife squarely on the chin. He reeled backward, landing hard on the concrete, but the leather-jacketed man lurched toward her and grabbed her injured arm. Claire ignored the pain and with a strength and agility that were completely at odds with her slight frame, she whirled away from the assailant and broke free from his grasp. Once again she started running toward the hospital, screaming for help.

Before she’d covered a hundred feet, she saw two security guards running in her direction. The man with the hoodie shouted and his partner mumbled a reply before he picked something up and ran off with his friend.

Claire’s heart was still hammering when the security guards reached her. They noticed her bleeding arm and one produced a handkerchief to help staunch the flow. “Thank you,” she said through panting breaths. “Thank you,” she whispered a second time and then repeated in Korean, “Kamsahamnida.”

The guards made no attempt to follow Claire’s attackers. Instead, they led her back into the hospital, and took her directly to the Emergency Department. There, the guards turned her over to the staff and called the police.

Within no time, two nurses had cleaned the knife wound and a young doctor was putting a series of neat stitches into the six-inch long gash, all the while telling Claire about completing his plastic surgery residency in Boston. The adrenaline surge was wearing off and the pain in Claire’s arm was changing from acutely intense to a merely tear-producing throb. While she was being treated, Claire realized that during the assault she’d lost her purse. On reflection she knew that the man in the leather jacket had picked it up before he fled.

“Well, damn!” she said to no one in particular. Other than about twenty dollars worth of Korean won, she’d just lost her favorite stethoscope, a couple of credit cards and some personal items. And then she remembered...

“Damn!” she repeated. Because Claire’s father was a Lutheran minister, she rarely swore. But tonight the circumstances definitely warranted it. She sighed and looked at the doctor who was suturing her forearm. “My passport,” she said with exasperation. “They got my passport.”

CHAPTER TWO

LIEUTENANT LUKE LLEWELLYN was sitting at a borrowed desk in the security office of the American Embassy in Seoul, reading a recent issue of Sports Illustrated and trying to avoid boredom. He was not particularly successful. It was a tedious way to spend a lovely Saturday afternoon, but he really couldn’t complain because it beat most of the alternatives.

Luke had been a naval intelligence officer for nearly eight years. He’d completed three tours in the Persian Gulf, where he had logged an inordinate amount of time in the E-2 Hawkeye and other early warning system aircraft, monitoring movements of men and weapons. He’d also spent hours upon hours in front of computer terminals watching satellite feed and listening to interpretations of intercepted conversations, trying to discern plans of the enemy. The work wasn’t exactly what he’d signed up for when he applied to the Naval Academy at seventeen, but he had no doubt of the critical, life-and-death nature of his work.

However, with Luke’s last promotion, the Navy had ‘loaned’ him to the Army. What followed was the longest nine months of his life. He’d been assigned to a forward operating base in Afghanistan, where his affinity for, and appreciation of the soldiers and marines who were ‘boots on the ground’ quickly rose in conjunction with his disdain for the Taliban.

While in Afghanistan he decided it was time to consider parting company with the U.S. military, but then he’d been recalled by the Army and sent to South Korea. Compared to the Middle East, life in Korea was a cake walk. There were no snipers, no IEDs, and no suicide bombers. The weather was good and the Korean people wanted the military in country—at least for the most part. All in all it was an excellent assignment to close out his career.

As a naval intelligence officer in Seoul, Luke assisted Army personnel in monitoring the communications and activities of the North Korean regime and its allies. That position had him bouncing around the northern part of the country, mostly doing spot reviews across the checkpoints of the demilitarized zone. The DMZ was the military demarcation line between North and South Korea, dating back to the 1950s, when the countries ceased overt conflict. Technically, the war had never ended and both sides continued to heavily arm their respective borders. The DMZ was at least five miles wide and heavily mined, fenced and monitored. Luke also spent significant time at a limited-access area in Seoul’s Yongsan Army Garrison. The non-descript building on the north side of the American military installation housed an impressive bank of state-of-the-art computers. Although surveillance work could be tedious, he enjoyed field expeditions with some of the Army guys—riding in Humvees or Blackhawks. And he relished the times when the teams could pass along anomalies or surreptitious movements, alerting the ‘powers that be’ to potential threats or events which might require diplomatic or even military intervention.

In addition to his other responsibilities, Luke was required to take his turn as officer-in-charge of the American Embassy’s security detail one weekend each month, even though the Marine guards who were responsible for the embassy needed scant supervision. He was expected to maintain a presence on the embassy grounds, being called on from time-to-time to help manage issues affecting State or Defense Department personnel or problems encountered by any of the thousands of Americans living or visiting the country. Because he wasn’t needed all that often, Luke redeemed the time by working out in the embassy’s well-equipped gym, watching movies, reading or playing poker with the Marines and consular personnel. One benefit—something he always looked forward to—was the first rate food in the cafeteria.

The slow Saturday afternoon was interrupted by a knock at the open office door, and Marine Staff Sergeant Antonio Mancini entered without waiting for an invitation. Approaching the desk, Mancini waved a file in Luke’s direction. “Luke, you lucky dog,” he said. “You’ve got some customers.”

Luke remained slouched in his chair. He didn’t look up from an article describing the early predictions for the upcoming Major League season. “Customers?” He turned a page. “This is an embassy, Tony, not a department store. We don’t have customers.”

“Man, oh man,” Tony chuckled, and his chocolate-brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s a couple of women in the waiting room—real lookers—who need some help.”

Luke finally glanced at the sergeant and sighed heavily in feigned exasperation. “Okay, what?”

“Seems one of the ladies’ passports was stolen last night along with her purse. She’s filed the paperwork to replace it but needs to report being a crime victim. I’ve taken her statement.” He waved the skinny file in Luke’s direction again. “Unusual situation... I’ve been here almost four years, and this is the first time I’ve seen an American woman knifed by an assailant.”

“Seriously?” Luke’s nonchalant attitude evaporated and he threw the magazine on the desk. “She was knifed? How bad?” He sat up straight and took the file.

“Luckily just a flesh wound to her arm.”

Luke skimmed the first page and memorized the basics: Mary Claire Olsen...25...Rochester, Minnesota...Registered nurse...Working a month in Korea...Single. “You said there were two. Who’s with her?”

“Her roommate—for moral support. The roomie lives here.” Tony briefed him on more of the details. “The victim is doing some sort of educational thing at Samsung Medical Center. According to her story, she was attacked by two guys last night right outside the hospital. The second page is the original police report and the third page is the English translation.”

“Actually at the hospital?” Luke flipped to the third page. “That’s in a good part of the city... It’s well lit and there are plenty of people around, pretty much twenty-four-seven.”

“Yep.” The sergeant pointed to the file. “Right there in the police report. The wound was pretty significant. It took a couple dozen stitches to sew her arm up.”

“Seriously?” Luke repeated. “Man, this is a first.” He closed the folder and stood. “Come on, Tony. Let’s go take care of our customers.”

* * *

AS TONY MANCINI FOLLOWED Luke from the room he was struck for about the twentieth time by the lieutenant’s size. He’d known Luke for a year but had known of him for nearly a decade. Luke didn’t quite rate being called a legend, but he was pretty close. Indeed, it was rare for a man from one of the service academies to be drafted into the NFL, but Luke—an outstanding football player for the Naval Academy—had been selected by one of the pro teams. Tony didn’t recall which. In the end, though, Luke had decided to keep his commitment to the Navy and the NFL had lost out.

As he trailed the lieutenant, Tony could certainly see why the NFL wanted him—the man was a barn. In his fifteen years in the Corps, Tony had never seen anyone that big wearing a uniform. The man was at least six foot six and weighed somewhere north of 260. Come to think of it, Tony wasn’t certain where Luke got his clothes; he didn’t think the Navy made standard uniforms that large.

The embassy’s Marine guard detail genuinely liked Luke and enjoyed when he was the weekend officer-in-charge. Luke took the duty seriously—some of the officers didn’t—and he didn’t look down on the enlisted guys—some of the officers did. Luke was an intelligent and affable Texan, and he’d done several tours in the Middle East—that alone had earned their respect. He was amiable most of the time, but tough when he needed to be. He played a good game of poker and was a magician when anyone was having problems with anything electronic. In addition, he was the only man Tony had ever seen actually bench-press 400 pounds. In truth, the guys were a little in awe of the big man.

* * *

AS THE TWO MEN strolled down the wide hallway toward the large waiting area, Tony said, “Heard you were getting out... Any truth to the rumor?”

“Yep.” Luke’s drawl became more pronounced. “Got three weeks left in Seoul. I’m off to Honolulu around the first of May to sign papers and get counseled. Then I’m headin’ home.”

“Well, dang,” Tony replied. “Since this is your last weekend with us, we need to pull together a game of Texas Hold ‘em. You’ve got a reputation as an easy mark. We’re gonna miss you.”

Luke scoffed good-naturedly and opened the door to the large waiting room. He saw two women looking a bit lost among the dozens of chairs.

The American Embassy in Korea was located in a converted seven-story office building. During normal working hours, the waiting area was often standing-room-only.

During the weekends, the embassy was essentially closed, though Americans were allowed in for emergencies. Those situations were evenly split between U.S. citizens experiencing accidents, serious illnesses or even death and situations in which U.S. citizens—typically young men—got into legal trouble. Most of those cases involved too much alcohol. This case was baffling, however, because in nearly a year as substitute duty officer, Luke had never even heard of a case of a random mugging, much less a physical assault on an American woman.

Luke studied the two women as he crossed the wide waiting area. The closer woman was blonde and appeared to be on the tall side. She was attractively dressed in skinny jeans and a snug red sweater. Beyond her was a slender Korean woman, more somberly dressed in a long gray skirt and hip-length tan jacket. Both women stood as the two military men approached and Luke noted that the blonde was indeed—as Tony had remarked—a looker. Her wavy, streaked, shoulder-length hair was brushed back, accenting intelligent blue eyes. Her deep-pink painted lips parted in welcome, revealing pretty white teeth.

Luke had years of training and experience in observation and assimilation of details, and his immediate impression was of a very attractive young woman. But he would have estimated that she was in her mid-thirties, not the 25 that had been reported on the form. Despite her pretty, inviting smile, that vague disconnect piqued his curiosity, causing his naturally skeptical mind to become even more alert.

Shifting his eyes a bit, Luke quickly looked at the Korean woman standing a few paces back. She was a little taller than most of the local women but had the slender build and staunchly erect posture commonly encountered here. Her black hair was pulled up in a clasp and she was wearing dark-rimmed glasses which—along with her rather frumpy clothes—contributed to a “geek chic” look. Luke got the impression that she was more nervous than her friend. She’d appeared ill-at-ease when she saw the uniformed men descending on them. Luke was very aware that his size was disconcerting to most people and was used to the response. Nonetheless, her reaction seemed a little extreme.

Deciding to start with a friendly approach, Luke addressed the tall curvy blonde. He held out his hand, and with his most reassuring smile drawled, “Hello, Ms. Olsen. I’m Lt. Llewellyn. I understand that you had a problem last night. We’re here—”

His introduction was simultaneously interrupted by Tony and the blonde.

“Oh, no! Not me—” The blonde’s cheeks darkened and she shook her head.

“Uh, Lieutenant—” Tony held up his hand.

Luke glanced back at his comrade who motioned toward the dark-haired woman. “Lieutenant, this is Ms. Olsen.” He indicated the blonde who was now grinning. “This is Ms. Jessica Tyson. Ms. Olsen is staying with Ms. Tyson while she’s in Seoul.”

Luke took a step back and glanced sheepishly between the two women. Trying to smooth over his discomfiture, he shook his head slightly and said, “Uh, sorry. Excuse me.” He held out his hand again. “Ms. Tyson, nice to meet you. Sorry for the mix-up.”

“Not a problem,” she answered, her voice tinged with humor. He shook her hand quickly before turning again to the other young woman, who was still standing several feet away.

She wasn’t smiling.

Luke covered the distance in two steps. This time when he looked at the dark-haired woman he took in details that he’d missed previously. On closer examination he realized that she was not Korean, or at least she was not full-blooded Korean. Her hair, while very dark, was not a flat black. Rather it carried deep brown highlights, and it was very glossy. Her skin was a soft, creamy color rather than the paler shades that many Korean women tried to maintain.

Then Luke realized that the most unusual thing about her appearance—what he should not have missed—was her eyes. Now that he was close enough to look past the dark-framed glasses, he could see the color—or rather colors—of her eyes. For the most part they were greenish blue, which alone would have been striking. But what was remarkable was that the outer one-third of both irises was a warm, coppery brown, interrupted periodically by small bluish flecks. The result was stunning.

Luke suddenly realized he’d been staring. Recovering his composure, he held out his hand. “Let me try this again... Ms. Olsen, I’m Luke Llewellyn, U.S. Navy. I understand that you have an incident to report.”

Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and practically gaped. Luke’s grip was gentle, but his hand was huge and it completely swallowed her much smaller, finer-boned one. Quickly she pulled her hand back and blinked nervously. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do. Last night the police detective said I would have to come by the embassy to apply for a replacement passport, and that while I was here I should talk to someone about...well about being mugged.” Her voice was soft and a little tentative, and she made a slight waving gesture with one hand.

Luke was still recovering from his embarrassment. In his peripheral vision he got a glimpse of Tony trying to keep a straight face. Ignoring his snickering colleague, he gave his best effort to appear competent and reassuring. Using his most professional tone, he explained, “In cases like this, where U.S. citizens are harmed, embassy personnel try to work as closely as possible with the police to resolve the case and ensure that it doesn’t happen again. If you’ll come with me, I need to get a little more information.” He motioned toward the hall that led to his borrowed office.

Claire hesitated a beat before responding, “Yes, okay. But...would it be all right if Jessica comes, too?”

“Of course. Ms. Tyson, you’re welcome to accompany us but I’ll ask you to avoid interfering.”

“Thanks,” the blonde replied in a friendly tone. “I promise I’ll keep quiet.”

Luke led the quartet down the hall with the curvy blonde beside him. Claire Olsen stayed a few paces behind and the Marine sergeant brought up the rear. Trying to appear casual with his initial questioning, Luke asked, “Ms. Tyson, have you been in Seoul very long?”

“It’s Dr. Tyson, actually. PhD, not M.D. And yes, I’ve lived in Seoul about seven years.” Her voice was a little throaty, and Luke discerned a bit of a northeastern accent, perhaps New York or another part of New England.

“What do you do?” he asked. They had arrived at the office. Luke entered first and pulled a couple of chairs forward to face the desk. He gestured for the women to sit before retreating behind the desk and taking a seat.

“I’m a professor of cultural anthropology at Seoul National University”

Luke responded, “Hangukmal hasil jul aseyo?”

“Yae, jogeumyo. Hangukmal hal jul ani?” she answered, looking amused.

Luke grinned and just shook his head. “No. Other than ‘hello’, ‘thanks,’ ‘how much’ and ‘where’s the men’s room,’ that’s pretty much the limit of my Korean. Do you actually teach in Korean?”

“No. I teach graduate courses, so my classes are all in English,” Jessica replied. “Most of my students want to go to the U.S. to study further, and they need to practice writing and conversing in English.”

Luke glanced toward the woman’s silent roommate and asked, “How are you two acquainted? Did you know each other before coming to Korea?”

“Seoul National provides me with a very nice three-bedroom apartment,” Jessica said. “Although I’ve lived here for so many years, it can get pretty lonely being a random American in a big city.” She shrugged. “From time to time I offer one of my spare bedrooms to visiting scholars.”

Luke nodded and turned to Claire. “Is that what you are? A ‘visiting scholar’?” He pointed to the form the sergeant had completed. “It says here you’re a nurse.”

Claire was sitting very erect. Although his question was mild, his tone indicated doubt. She cleared her throat before answering. “Well, kind of.” She shifted as if her chair was uncomfortable. “I’m in a graduate program at the University of Minnesota. I’m involved in a project for one of my professors, so I’m working at Samsung Medical Center...collecting data for a research study.”

Luke had been jotting notes as she spoke. He glanced up, “What is your professor’s name?”

“I’m sorry?” Claire responded.

“The name of your professor in Minnesota...”

“Sung...Dr. Lin-yeong Sung, but she goes by ‘Cindy’ in the U.S. Dr. Sung is Korean, but she’s been working at the Mayo Clinic Hospital for nearly twenty years.” Claire seemed to be growing even more uncomfortable. “What does that have to do with me getting mugged?”

“I’m just trying to get background information for the file.” He made another note. “What do you do for this ‘research study’?”

“I work with children who have cancer.”

He glanced back at her and then looked down to scrawl something on his pad. “In what capacity?”

“What difference does that—”

“Please just answer the question.” Luke kept his voice without inflection.

“I work on a hematology-oncology unit with children fifteen and under.” She squirmed and sighed. “We’re collecting data on play therapy involving three different activities—computer games, pets—particularly dogs—and musical instrumentation... We actually teach the children how to play either the piano or a flute. The dependent variable—or rather variables—are symptom experiences and side effects of their therapy—usually a combination of chemo, radiation and sometimes bone marrow transplant.”

He didn’t respond so she licked her lips then continued. “Specifically, I collect information on when and to what extent the children experience symptoms, including nausea, pain, anorexia, insomnia and depression. I periodically measure salivary cortisol levels and take daily blood samples looking for signs of infection or anemia. We also evaluate other parameters such as anemia, leucopenia, weight gain or loss, vital signs, alopecia and dehydration.” Her rapid, matter-of-fact explanation was done in monotone and she stopped abruptly. “Does that answer your question?”

Sometime during her recitation, Luke had stopped writing. He was watching her eyes. Several seconds passed where he tried to come up with a response, but his brain seemed to have clicked off. His mouth was dry and he had to clench his teeth to keep his face expressionless. He knew he was staring and forced himself to look down at what he’d written. Finally, he managed to come up with what he hoped was a reasonable response.

“Hematology-oncology. Is that like leukemia?” He scribbled something.

“Yes, for the most part.”

Luke knew it was his turn again. He feigned looking down at the form. “So you’ve been here a month? How long is your...um...assignment?”

“The fellowship is for three months. I should be here through May.”

He jotted something down then sat back in his chair. Staring at her with renewed intensity, he said, “Tell me about last night.”

In a few sentences, she told him about being assaulted by two men in the hospital’s parking lot. When she concluded, he watched her for a moment. “Ms. Olsen, I’m sure people have told you that physical assaults such as you describe are very rare in Seoul.”

“Well, yes... I was told Seoul is very safe. But, evidently not...”

“So, why do you think someone would attack you?”

“Mr., er, Lieutenant...I’m sorry I don’t recall your name—”

“Llewellyn,” his response was curt, and he motioned toward the name pin above his left chest pocket.

“Lieutenant Llewellyn, I’ve no idea why someone would attack me. It was dark and I was alone. I guess I looked like an easy target.”

“Target for what?”

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“What were you targeted for?”

She blinked several times and sat back in apparent confusion. “Why, my purse, of course. They stole my purse.”

“Ms. Olsen, that seems to be the case. But purse thieves don’t typically resort to violence. Why do you think you were attacked with a knife?”

“I...I guess it was because I fought back.”

“How were your approached? Did they try to grab your purse from the outset?”

She considered his question for a few seconds. “I...er... Now that I think about it, maybe at first they were trying to grab me...”

“Did they say anything?”

She looked pensive. “One kind of yelped when I kicked at him, but he didn’t say anything to me. They might have talked to each other, but I really wasn’t attuned to that, and it would have been in Korean....” She blinked and shifted again.

“Why did you fight back? Why didn’t you just give them your purse?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to think about it. It happened really fast. I was frightened and I just...reacted.” Each word was spoken with emphasis and mounting irritation. She sat up even straighter and her tone carried a hint of belligerence. “Lieutenant, I don’t like being questioned as if I was somehow responsible. All I did was walk across the parking lot. Two men attacked me! I lost my purse, some credit cards and my passport. Plus I’ve got a gash on my arm that’s really throbbing right now. I came here to follow up with someone at the embassy. That was what I was told to do, and for some reason you’re treating me like it was my fault.” Her face was flushed.

This whole case was bothering Luke. He watched her expression through the outburst...she seemed overly defensive, so he persisted with his questions..

“Ms. Olsen, you weigh—what—115? How were you able to fight off two men, at least one of whom had a knife, and come out with only a cut on your arm?”

She lurched from her chair. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” Her voice was blunt.

Jessica stood, too, and joined the conversation for the first time. “Lieutenant, this type of questioning seems inappropriate—”

Luke remained seated and his expression didn’t change. Interrupting both women, he said, “Ms. Olsen, sit down, please.”

“I was the victim! I thought someone here was going to help!” Her voice grew louder and her face redder.

Luke stood then, extending to his full height, looming over the two women. He stared into the oddly colored eyes and repeated, “Ms. Olsen, please sit down. You’ll need to answer a few more questions.” His eyes remained fixed on Claire’s although he addressed her roommate. “Ms. Tyson, you can stay or go, it’s your choice.”

A brief staring match ensued before Claire exhaled then sat down on the edge of her chair. Jessica glanced at her roommate and copied her.

* * *

AS HE WATCHED THE EXCHANGE from his station near the door, Tony was becoming exasperated. He was surprised by Luke’s brusque manner and tough interrogation. The lieutenant’s scowl was uncharacteristic. He was usually obliging and sympathetic, particularly when working with civilians. Tony’s agitation edged toward anger as his superior officer’s questions and manner grew increasingly harsh.

Despite Tony’s growing consternation, he snapped to attention when Luke addressed him. “Sergeant Mancini, the police report notes that there were surveillance cameras in the parking lot. Have one of the translators contact the precinct office and ask for a detective. See if they can send me a video file or web link so I can review the encounter.”

Tony gave an almost indiscernible nod and replied with a crisp “Yes, sir.” Immediately, he departed to follow the order.

* * *

LUKE CONSIDERED the now-tense women and decided to try to defuse the situation. Addressing Claire but including her friend he said, “Ladies, I’m sorry if my questions seem unsympathetic, but I need to file a complete report.” He tried a wry half smile and gave a brief wave to nothing in particular. “You know, the brass and all. They’ll have my head if I’m not thorough.”

That was actually stretching the truth. He would not be expected to do much beyond cursory data collection, and it was very unlikely that the Marine Duty Officer or any of the consular staff would do more than skim his report on Monday. But something bothered him about the whole episode. Physical crimes of that sort were virtually unheard of—even purse snatchings were rare. Looking at Claire and talking with her, he couldn’t conceive of how she could fend off two armed men who were intent on stealing her purse.

But she’d answered his questions about her work without pause—he was certain that part of her account was true. Plus, her roommate had seemed honest—although he would check her story after the women left.

Liars came in all sizes, and gorgeous, arresting eyes aside, the details of the attack didn’t make sense. It was conceivable that she’d harmed herself, in some kind of attention-grabbing situation, or maybe she was involved in something sordid or illegal that went wrong. If there was surveillance video, though, he could get a few answers fairly quickly.

“While we’re waiting, can I offer you something to drink? We have coffee or all kinds of soft drinks... Water?” His drawl became more pronounced.

Luke’s change in manner and engaging grin worked with Jessica. She smiled. “A Diet Coke would be wonderful, if you have one.”

“Can do. Ms. Olsen?”

“Just water, please.” Her response was flat, and Luke realized the only expressions she’d exhibited so far were frustration, irritation and anger, with maybe a hint of fear or timidity.

“Coming right up.” He left the office and quickly proceeded down the hall to the break room. He grabbed a small bottle of water and can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator and quietly jogged back, pausing outside the room hoping to eavesdrop on the women. He was disappointed however, as their voices were pitched softly and he was unable to discern their conversation. He sighed and walked into the room.

“Here, ladies.” He gave the can to Dr. Tyson who took it gratefully and popped the top. He handed the water to Claire, who took it from him, carefully avoiding touching his hand. Luke surreptitiously watched as she unscrewed the top and took a quick sip.

“You’re right-handed?” It was both a question and observation.

“Yes.” Her answer seemed a little hesitant.

“Where is your injury?”

She set her water on the desk and held up her right arm. She pulled back the sleeve of her tan jacket almost to her elbow, revealing a bulky dressing of white gauze encircling her arm. “Do you want me to take off the dressing so you can actually see it?” Her tone was blatantly sarcastic, and her eyes steadily held his.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Can you point to where the wound is?”

She indicated the underside of her forearm, from a few inches under her wrist, nearly to her elbow. Luke felt an odd sense of relief. The placement of the wound supported her story. It suggested a defensive injury, as if she’d held up her arm to ward off the attack. Further, if the cut had been self-inflicted, it was a pretty sure bet her left arm would have been injured. He jotted a note and was about to continue his questions when there was a brief knock at the open door.

“Lieutenant,” Tony Mancini didn’t enter the room. He caught Luke’s eyes and gave a quick nod to his superior officer.

“Excuse me a minute. This shouldn’t take long.” Luke closed the file, nodded briefly and left the room.

During the short walk to the security office, Tony succinctly filled Luke in. “Getting that footage was a piece of cake. Our translator was able to find a detective—a Mr. Park—who speaks English. While I was still talking to him, that dude emailed me a video link to footage they had already excerpted from the surveillance cameras in the medical center parking lot.” He pushed open the door to the security office where two other marines were monitoring the three dozen remote camera screens. They started to rise in deference to Luke’s rank, but he nodded to them and they continued working. Tony pointed to a computer at the end of the row. He shook his head and gave Luke a meaningful look. “Wait’ll you see this.” Both men remained standing while Tony reached down and started the video.

Fortunately the hospital parking lot had been fairly well lit, and the video was of good quality. Luke and Tony were silent as they watched a white-coated Mary Claire Olsen come into view, walking at a brisk pace. She was almost out of the camera’s range when a man approached her from behind. At first she jumped out of his way when he tried to grab her, then as he swung his fist, obviously intending to strike her, she seemed to whirl and lean away, barely missing a serious blow. They saw her use her purse as a shield to deflect the arching knife, and then watched as she kicked out and struggled to fend off the two men. Luke swore quietly as she managed to stumble away from the assailants. Although the video was not in color, they could easily discern blood rapidly staining the white sleeve of her lab coat.

There was no audio, but he could tell that she screamed for help and then screamed again. He caught the surprised reaction of the two men as they heard the guards responding to the altercation. Both started to run off, but one paused briefly then ran back to pick up the purse the nurse had dropped. As the men ran out of the camera view, two guards approached from the far side and led the bleeding young woman back to the hospital. According to the time stamps, the entire incident took a little more than ninety seconds.

Luke re-played the video, swore again, and then ran it a third time. He leaned over the keyboard, pulled up his secure email account, and in a few keystrokes quickly saved the link so he could view it again. Finally, he turned to Tony. He looked grim.

“So, what do you think?” the sergeant asked.

Luke stared at the now blank computer screen. “I think I’ve got to go apologize to our customer,” he responded. “Some groveling may be necessary.” He paused a breath before adding, “I don’t know, but something about that attack still bugs me...” He sighed then and glanced at the sergeant. “What do you think?”

Tony looked at the computer and then back at Luke. He nodded, “Yeah, I think groveling would be appropriate.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M SURE THEY’RE nearly done.” Jessica’s tone was hopeful as she tried to encourage Claire. “I can’t imagine that he’ll have many other questions.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced.

Claire looked at her own watch for what seemed like the tenth time in the past hour and sighed. “What time is your date?”

“He’s supposed to pick me up at six. I can call him and change it to seven...”

Claire shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary, Jessica. You’ve been terrific through this whole thing. Why don’t you go ahead and head home. I can handle it from here, and I won’t have a problem finding my way back to the apartment.”

Even though they’d known each other for only a few weeks, Jessica had been a stalwart friend. In addition to sharing her home, she had instructed Claire on how to navigate Seoul and she’d taken her to dinner and church on several occasions. Jessica had immediately come to the hospital and supported Claire while she was being stitched up. Then she’d helped translate while Claire had given her statement to the police. Today Jessica had offered to accompany her to the embassy to apply for the replacement passport and report the incident. Claire had quickly accepted her offer because she was still trying to find her way around the huge city.

Initially, the process had been simple. The guards were respectful, allowing them to enter and showing them where to go. The Consular Assistant had filed the paperwork for the replacement passport before directing the women to Sergeant Mancini, who’d been sympathetic and helpful. He’d repeatedly tried to assure both women that Seoul was one of the safest places in the world for single women. He seemed genuinely baffled and angry—ready to beat the daylights out of the perpetrators. After he’d assisted with the intake forms, he described the remaining step in the process—a brief meeting with Security’s duty officer. That meeting, he’d assured them, was just perfunctory. They had both been stunned when the alarmingly big officer, with his disarmingly mild drawl, had bombarded Claire with questions and stared at her with distrust.

Claire had not completely recovered her composure following last night’s attack. Although trying to seem calm, she was nervous, hesitant and uncharacteristically fretful of strange men. The embassy was large and imposing, but at least she’d been spared the ordeal of being among a crowd of people.

The sergeant had been friendly, but when he returned with his superior officer, she was immediately overwhelmed into a state bordering on panic. Her reaction to the lieutenant was totally out of place—he bore absolutely no resemblance to her attackers, who’d been Korean..

But the lieutenant had alienated her from the outset when he mistook Jessica for her. Since she’d arrived in Seoul, there’d been too many occasions to count in which people assumed she was Korean, but Claire had never been annoyed before. Luke’s stereotypical attraction to the pretty, curvy blonde, along with his equally obvious choice to ignore her, bothered her in a way that was unexpected. When he was finally forced to acknowledge her, he was ruthless as he grilled her, and she immediately got the impression that he doubted her account of the attack. She couldn’t conceive why he thought she could—or would—make something like that up. Being particularly vulnerable, it bothered her to be questioned and to have someone stare at her as he had, practically accusing her of lying.

“This whole situation is just so weird.” Jessica took a sip of her soda. “In all my years here, I’ve never known anyone who was robbed. And I’ve certainly never known someone who was attacked—well at least not a woman. I’ve heard of quite a few bar fights and such...”

She was interrupted when the two uniformed men returned. Claire couldn’t tell anything from the sergeant, who was expressionless, but the lieutenant looked vaguely uncomfortable. The big man sat behind the desk while the sergeant remained standing at the door.

Luke leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk and clasping his hands. Claire once again felt intimidated by his size, but she sensed that his response to her had softened. For the first time she really looked at the man, noting his strong features, high cheekbones and full lips. His close cropped hair was dark blond, contrasting somewhat with dark eyebrows shading hazel eyes. Laugh lines were prominent in their corners, hinting that he smiled a lot.

“Ms. Olsen,” he began, his gaze holding hers. She was briefly distracted when she noted the amber striations in his otherwise greenish-brown eyes. “Sergeant Mancini was able to obtain the surveillance footage from last night and we’ve reviewed it several times.” He paused for emphasis. “It confirmed your account of the attack.”

“Well, of course—”

Holding up his hand, he interrupted. “But I still have some questions...”

Claire suddenly felt very vulnerable. Her eyes burned and she blinked several times, trying to keep from falling apart.

Luke abandoned professionalism and reached across the desk to gently pat her hand, surprising them both. Quickly, he pulled back his hand and actually shuffled in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss Olsen. Please don’t be alarmed.” He sounded as if he wasn’t used to apologizing. “I need to explain. I’m an analyst. I spend pretty much all day every day trying to understand and interpret information. We’re trained to not take anything at face value, and I transferred my ingrained skepticism to your situation. At any rate, my initial mistrust was unwarranted. Please, I sincerely apologize for doubting your account.” He glanced at Tony, who responded with a tiny approving nod.

Returning his gaze to Claire he continued, “I needed to get the facts, but I still don’t think I have them all.” He held up his hand again. “No, not about you, but I’m still trying to put everything together...to get it straight. It simply doesn’t make sense.”

Claire frowned, but she was willing to accept his explanation and maybe his apology. She swallowed and asked, “What...What else can I tell you?”

He paused to stare at his hands for a moment, evidently contemplating his next question. Finally he met her eyes and asked, “Do you have any martial arts training?”

“Martial arts?” She shook her head. “No. None.”

“Are you sure?” His drawl was back.

She gave him a scathing look and huffed, “I thought you’d decided to believe me!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “It’s just that the moves you made... On the video... It looked like some sort of kung fu or tae kwon do.”

She pressed her lips together and actually smiled for a tiny second. “Uh, no. That was—well—it was from ice skating.” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper.

“I’m sorry?” It was his turn to look confused. “What about ice skating?”

“The moves.”

He still seemed baffled.

“I am—well I used to be—a figure skater. I guess that last night during the—uh—encounter, the moves just kind of happened.” Her voice quieted even more when she said the word “encounter.” She paused a breath before continuing. “It wasn’t anything I thought about or planned, I just reacted.”

Luke sat back in his chair and looked at her with something approaching shock. “Ice skating?” He seemed to reflect on what she’d said, as if replaying the video in his mind. Understanding seemed to dawn. “So that’s why you kept going, even after you’d been cut?” It was both a comment and a question.

“Yes, I suppose.” She shrugged. “You get used to ignoring pain during training. You fall so frequently that bruises, sprains and even cuts are common, so if you quit every time something hurts, you’d never progress...”

“Well, okay...” He leaned forward in his chair again, staring at his clasped hands. Finally his eyes rose to hold hers. “Miss Olsen. In my experience, I’ve known a lot of football players and combat soldiers who were easily more than twice your size, who didn’t have the fortitude you showed last night.” He stood and held his hand as a peace offering. “One of my redeeming qualities is I can admit when I’ve been wrong. I truly apologize for my harsh questioning and for doubting your veracity. Please let me shake your hand.”

Claire was stunned. His eyes pinned hers and she blinked. Nodding slightly, she rose and allowed his huge hand to swallow hers a second time. Marveling at the size difference, she murmured, “It’s okay. I understand. You were just doing your job.”

* * *

LUKE CONTINUED TO STARE at her oddly colored eyes. And then she smiled. The smile was shy and incredibly sweet. The flush that Luke felt was concurrent with an odd tightening in his chest. He recognized the sensation immediately. He had just lost his heart.

CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE CRADLED THE little girl in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. She mumbled some words in poorly accented, broken Korean. The child probably couldn’t comprehend, but Claire hoped the words would comfort her nonetheless. Hyo-joo was small for her age, having battled leukemia for the past six months. Despite her outward appearance, Hyo-joo was one of the fortunate ones. There were still many hurdles to overcome, not the least of which were opportunistic infections and reoccurrence, but thanks to powerful drugs, radiation and a bone marrow transplant from her father, the child was winning the battle.

They were sitting in the brightly colored playroom of the children’s wing. The room was a place of respite—a spot to distract both patients and their families from the pain and uncertainty inherent with cancer—as well as a laboratory. Several years before, a forward-thinking doctor, schooled in both Eastern and Western medicine, had set up the playroom/laboratory to institute a more holistic approach to the management of children with cancer. He’d started with a half-dozen electronic play stations with computer games for children from ages one to twenty-one. Those had grown in number, been updated several times, and were perpetually busy from early in the morning until after what should have been the children’s bedtime. The computers were a diversion for the very ill children as well as a resource for the doctors and nurses to assess the cognitive and psychomotor function of the young patients. They could also be used as educational tools, as many of the children lost significant time in school when they were hospitalized for weeks and even months.

Claire clucked her tongue and whistled quietly, gaining the attention of the Scottish terrier who’d been resting on a bed in a corner of the large room. “Come, Kai-ji.” The dog jumped up from her perch and happily trotted over to nuzzle the sick girl.

During the second year of the playroom’s existence, pet therapy was instituted. The program was started with one small dog; now there were four. In addition to the little Scottie, there was a West Highland white terrier, a cocker spaniel and a standard poodle. The therapy dogs loved children, were patient and well trained, and—very important—they did not shed. Each was remarkably intuitive, somehow knowing which children were ill and limiting rambunctious play with them. Oftentimes the dogs would respond even more appropriately to a child’s condition than the nurses and doctors, amazing Claire.

The most recent additions to the holistic therapy program were keyboards and flutes. The hospital had employed a full-time music therapist who taught the children music theory and how to play the instruments. The idea was to help re-direct the young patients from focusing on their illnesses to thinking about their recovery. Claire had been skeptical at first, but after working with the therapist and seeing his results, she’d quickly recognized the value of using music to express feelings, particularly for the older children.

* * *

WHEN LUKE ENTERED the playroom late Tuesday afternoon, he saw Claire sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was cradling a tiny, bald child who was petting and being licked by a small black dog. He studied the large, brightly lit room filled with computer stations, toys, pianos and keyboards, as well as people whose happy expressions seemed out-of-place for a children’s cancer ward.

The children were dressed in loose pajamas that resembled surgeon’s scrubs. The younger children’s attire was printed with dinosaurs, kittens, horses or princesses and the scrubs of the older children were various solid colors, but were neon-bright. Except that many of the children were holding onto or sitting right beside IV poles and/or were wearing masks covering their mouths and noses, he could have been in a school or children’s play area anywhere. All of the adults were either playing with the children or sitting quietly by and reading or watching TV.

When Luke saw Claire, she was engrossed with the child. As he watched, she gently kissed the bald head, smiled and whispered something. The sensation Luke experienced at that moment was completely unique for him. Even during his most vulnerable circumstances, whether he’d been playing football against a tough opponent, or facing tense situations on the war’s frontline, or riding in a plane landing on an aircraft carrier in rough seas, he’d never felt this particular combination of apprehension and anticipation. His palms were sweaty, his mouth was dry and his heart beat erratically.

Luke spent much of his life trying to avoid being conspicuous. He’d learned to stand very still to keep from attracting attention. Normally he had at least some success, but in a room filled with about a dozen Korean children and at least that many smallish, slender, black-headed men and women, the huge American man in jeans and green polo shirt was impossible to miss. Before he’d even gotten completely through the door, one of the children squeaked something and within seconds all heads—including Claire’s—had turned in his direction. Even the dogs seemed to be aware of his presence.

With a room full of staring men, women and ill children, Luke did his best to appear non-threatening. He gave a small, friendly wave to no one in particular and graced the room’s inhabitants with a shy smile. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and slumped, trying to shrink.

Claire was startled by his sudden appearance. Still holding the child, she stood gracefully. “Uh...em...Lieutenant...” When she spoke, all eyes moved from the huge man at the door to her. She cleared her throat and managed to mutter, “Do you need something?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’d like to speak to you for a minute.”

Claire passed the little girl to one of the nursing assistants standing nearby. She brushed a hand over her hair and adjusted her glasses before crossing to the door. Once there, she seemed nearly overwhelmed. She blinked tensely as she looked up at him.

“Is there a problem with my case?”

He glanced beyond her into the room full of curious faces and then back down at the anxious young woman. “Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Claire took one step to the side, as if afraid to turn her back on him. She motioned down the short hall leading to a large waiting room in the outer lobby.

“Yes. I’m sure we can find a spot this way.” She glanced at him as she led him toward several unoccupied chairs at one corner of the lobby. “Um, why are you here? Is something wrong?”

Luke studied her for a moment before responding. “Has anyone from the consular staff contacted you?”

He was struck again by her unusual eyes and fine, soft features. She was tall and slender, and she was dressed much as she had been on Saturday, in a long dark skirt made of some knit material that flowed. Her pale pink blouse was mostly covered by the buttoned white lab coat and she was wearing soft-soled, flat ballet slippers. She was remarkably lovely, but there was something extra, something elusive about her that drew him.

Under the cuff of her right sleeve he noted the edge of the gauze dressing and cringed inwardly, envisioning a knife tearing through her soft skin. His mouth tightened as he realized anew how much worse the attack could have been.

“About my passport? I thought they said it could take up to two weeks.”

“No. I don’t have anything to do with that.” They had reached the chairs and he motioned for her to take a seat. She settled obediently, but remained sitting very straight and on the edge, as if she could be ready to bolt if the need arose. Luke scooted another chair around to sit facing her. “No one called you back to follow up on the attack?” His tone betrayed his annoyance, bordering on anger. She shook her head and he took a deep breath and frowned. “I left a detailed report which instructed the attaché to order one of the embassy personnel to let you know what I learned about the assault.”

Claire sat up even straighter. “Lieutenant...um...Llewellyn... No. No one has called...”

He sighed and slumped back in his chair a bit. “Look, first, please call me Luke. I’m not here in any official capacity. That...” He motioned randomly with one hand. “Working at the embassy isn’t my real job. I’m just a weekend substitute. They—the embassy personnel—were supposed to let you know...” He paused, frowning again.

“Know what?”

Luke leaned forward, ensuring he had her full attention. “I spent the better part of Sunday reviewing all of the hospital’s surveillance feed.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin. “By the way, they’re very well covered—in regard to monitoring what goes on—particularly the doors and the parking lots.” He pointed to a camera mounted near the ceiling about twenty feet away from where they sat. The grin faded and he said, “At any rate, I had to go back several hours from the time of the attack, but I was finally able to spot the two assailants. I figured out when they got to the hospital and pieced together what they did while they were here.”

She was watching his expressions with mingled curiosity and concern. “Okay. That sounds like a good idea... But why?”

“I told you, the attack bothered me. It didn’t make sense and still doesn’t.” His lips tightened and he looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, I had to go back nearly six hours to find when the two men arrived. They came here at about five, long before they attacked you.” He frowned at her and asked, “What time do you normally leave?”

“It varies. Sometimes as early as five or six, but sometimes much later.” She shrugged. “Last Friday was one of the later times.” She looked perplexed. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

Luke fought the urge to reach over and rub her hand or pat her cheek—anything, just to touch her. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Miss Olsen... Can I call you Mary?”

She blinked a couple of times before answering. “No...um... Yes, of course. But I go by Claire. My parents call me ‘Mary Claire,’ but to everyone else, I’m just ‘Claire’.”

He smiled then. It was his first genuine smile since he’d walked into the playroom and tried to put its occupants at ease. Claire’s breath caught. Her own face softened and her lips turned up slightly in response.

“Okay, just Claire it is...” He sat back up at attention and the smile died away. “Claire,” he repeated, “the bottom line is this: the attack wasn’t random. They were waiting on you. They’d been watching you for at least five hours and followed you into the parking lot.”

Disbelief clouded her expression. “How can you know that?” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Likely they were just waiting for a lone woman, someone who looked vulnerable.”

He shook his head. “No. There’s no doubt. Claire, this is what I do. Like I told you, I only act as babysitter to a bunch of Marine guards occasionally. What I’ve spent much of the past six years doing is reviewing and interpreting surveillance video.”

He glanced around to ensure that there was no one in the vicinity and continued quietly, “Claire, during the time between when they arrived and when they followed you out, at least fifty women exited the building alone. They weren’t looking for a vulnerable woman to mug... They were waiting for you.” She paled a little then. He gritted his teeth and looked down at the polished floor before allowing his gaze to capture hers again. He was weighing how to proceed. “And something else,” he said, leaning a little closer. “I’m pretty sure they weren’t intending to steal your purse.” His voice quieted to almost a whisper. “Claire, I think they may have been trying to harm you, maybe even kill you.”

She surged to her feet and paced several steps away before whirling around to face him again. Her voice was quiet but emphatic. “That’s impossible! I don’t know anyone in Seoul.” She struggled to keep her voice calm as she took a few steps back toward him. “I’ve only been here a few weeks, for goodness’ sake. I’m just a nurse from Minnesota. I haven’t done anything wrong and haven’t harmed anyone. I don’t have anything anyone would want!” She moved away again and then sighed. “Look, you’ve made some sort of error.”

Luke remained seated, still trying to keep a low profile. “I’m sorry, Claire. There is no mistake.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in fatigue and frustration. “I left a detailed report for the consular attaché on Sunday. I strongly suggested that someone contact you to tell you what I found and warn you to be wary. It’s clear that request wasn’t heeded.” He sighed and swore under his breath. “I’ve been—um—away since Sunday night. I just returned from a recon detail this morning and came by to check on you. I hoped you’d been told to be alert and take precautions.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Luke,” he interrupted. “Like I said, I’m not here officially.”

“Okay.” She bit her lip then started over. “Luke, I really appreciate your concern. You’ve gone above and beyond.” She smiled slightly. “But there’s no reason someone—anyone—would want to hurt me.” She paused a breath then sat back down, shaking her head. “The only explanation I can think of is that I was mistaken for someone. Do you think that’s possible?”

“Maybe, but I’m doubtful. They were here, waiting for you.” He sighed again. “Look, please at least consider the possibility. Don’t go anywhere alone and pay attention to your surroundings. And if anything even remotely suspicious happens, contact the hospital security guards or the police and the embassy.” The last sentence was spoken authoritatively, as if he was giving an order.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a small smile. “I will, sir.”

His own lips turned up slightly, but he still looked frustrated. There seemed to be nothing left to say. The interview was over. They both stood and Claire held out her hand. “Thank you very much for coming all the way here to talk to me, Luke. It was very considerate of you.”

He looked down at their clasped hands. Hers was slender, delicate and soft; his was large, thick and imposing. Despite the contrast, he sensed the unexpected strength that had helped her fight off two men in a dark parking lot.

“Not a problem.” He grinned again and said, “I could’ve lied and said I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by, but I thought you’d see past that one.”

She chuckled and pulled back her hand. “Well, the medical center is a bit away from the Army base...”

They started toward the hospital’s entrance. She intended to walk him out, but before they had covered much ground, he placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Um, Claire. One more thing.”

She turned to face him and her eyes climbed hesitantly up the considerable distance to meet his. She swallowed and said, “Yes.”

“Will you have dinner with me?”

Claire took a half step back and bit her lip. Luke could tell that her mind was racing, hastily trying to come up with an excuse—any reason she could use to plausibly but politely decline his invitation. He cringed inwardly. He really didn’t want to beg, but he was willing to do whatever it took. Claire’s lips parted and he knew she was going to say “no,” so he forestalled her. Very quietly, he added one word. “Please.”

* * *

IT WAS THE “PLEASE” that did it, Claire mused later. Well that and the random, funny and sometimes oddly sweet smiles that contrasted so markedly with his imposing presence. It was also his intensity and the concern he’d displayed by coming to see her, despite being almost dead on his feet. It was his sharp, knowing hazel eyes with the amber flecks, and it was his impossibly large hands; hands that could obviously be deadly, given their size and strength, but hands that felt gentle, strong and protective when holding hers.

Claire took a shallow breath. She couldn’t hide her apprehension as she searched his eyes. Her nod was very slight, and she said, “I need to go report to the charge nurses and finish charting. That shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty minutes. Do you mind waiting?”

The smile that crossed his face dispelled any lingering doubts. He gestured toward the playroom with his head. “I saw the latest iteration of Super Mario on one of the computers. You think I can interest one of the kids in a game?”

Claire’s smile mirrored his. “Yes, I’m certain you can. But I’ve got to warn you, they’ll beat the daylights out of you. Those kids are brutal!”

CHAPTER FIVE

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Claire returned to the playroom. After reporting to her colleagues and completing her charting, she’d slipped into the nurses’ lounge where she quickly brushed her hair. For a moment, she thought about leaving it down, but she coiled her hair back into a knot and secured it with a large clip. She dabbed on lip gloss and rinsed her sweaty palms. Her last act before re-joining Luke was making a quick call to Jessica.

“Um, hey,” she said when her roommate answered. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be home late this evening.” She took a breath. “I have a date.”

“Fun!” Jessica replied. “Who’s the lucky guy? That cute doc who did his residency at Johns Hopkins?”

“Uh, no. It’s the lieutenant from Saturday—Luke.”

“What?” Jessica barely stifled a shriek. “Oh my gosh! How in the world did that happen?”

“He came by the hospital this evening to talk to me. It kind of took me by surprise, but, well, he seems nice, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know about nice, but he gives new meaning to the term ‘hunk.’” Claire heard her friend chuckle. “Now that I think about it, he did seem to be taken with you... Oh my gosh!” she repeated.

Claire glanced at her watch. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll fill you in when I get to the apartment.”

“Okay, but keep your phone with you all the time, and try to call and let me know how it’s going. Not that I don’t trust the lieutenant, but I want to make sure you’re safe and all.”

“Yes, Mother.” Claire smiled into the phone. “I’ll be careful.”

Clicking off, she glanced in the mirror again and noted that her cheeks were flushed. That wasn’t surprising—her heart rate must be well above a hundred. She grabbed her new purse and lightweight jacket from her locker and took a deep breath. “Well, here goes,” she murmured.

* * *

THIS TIME THEIR roles were reversed. Claire stood at the door and watched in astonishment as the very large American man sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by six Korean children and several adults. He was engaged in a heated video game match, and from all appearances, she concluded that he was getting soundly defeated by a twelve-year-old boy named Heen-nak.

Exaggerated groans and growls from Luke mingled with giggles, cheers and jeers from the children. Finally, Luke tossed down his control box. He clutched his chest and fell to one side moaning, “You got me... That’s it... I surrender!”

Several children, a couple clutching IV poles, mobbed him. After a few moments, Luke sat up and fist-bumped the young victor. “Great game, dude!” He glanced at one of the adults, who translated. The boy smiled shyly. Luke gently patted the boy’s head and glanced toward the door. Spying Claire, he stood. “Thanks again, partner. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll practice up some and maybe we can have a rematch soon.”

He waited for the translator and the young boy grinned and nodded his head. “Thank you, mister.”

All eyes were on the huge man as he strode across the room. Claire saw appreciation in Luke’s face as he moved toward her, and her heart rate intensified. No man had ever looked at her that way before, with admiration tempered by respect.

“Are you ready to go?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

Her own smile was shy and a little uncertain. “Yes, I’m all checked out and charted.”

Luke walked very close to Claire as they crossed the lobby. It was nearing dinner time and the hospital was teeming with patients, family members and hospital staff.

Luke was both more and less imposing than before. Wearing his uniform, he’d been disconcerting, simply because the clothing conveyed such authority. The loose-fitting uniform shirt, however, had camouflaged his daunting size. Although Luke’s polo shirt was not tight, Claire couldn’t help but notice the bulk of the heavy muscles in his chest and arms and the thickness of his neck.

Luke’s size probably attracted attention back in the States, so in Korea, he was nothing short of a giant. As a result, his efforts to study the crowd—trying to spot anyone who seemed unduly interested in Claire—were hampered by the fact that pretty much everyone was staring at him. He didn’t seem too concerned, however. Perhaps because any potential assailants would be forestalled by his presence.

Initially both Luke and Claire were a little stilted. Luke tried to break the ice as they exited the building. “Thanks for coming with me like this. I know it’s short notice and all...”

Claire peered up at him and realized that he seemed to feel as self-conscious as she did. That such a self-assured man seemed nervous helped dispel some of her own anxiety. “Thanks for asking.” She smiled then glanced away. “I haven’t gotten out much since I’ve been in Seoul. It’ll be fun to go somewhere other than Jessica’s apartment and the medical center.”

The early awkwardness was starting to crack and Luke seemed more at ease. “Really? So, you haven’t had a chance to see much of Seoul?”

“No. I’ve worked nearly every day since I’ve been here. On Sundays I’ve gone to church with Jessica, but it’s a little daunting because she attends a Korean church and almost all of her friends and colleagues are Korean.”

He seemed to take her disclosure as a challenge. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

Claire had to tamp down a twinge of fear as they entered the parking lot. Luke noticed her scouring the area. He didn’t comment, but lightly placed his hand on her arm. He led her to a nondescript beige Kia sedan and opened the passenger door, ushering her in. She couldn’t help a slight giggle as she saw him folding into the driver’s side a moment later. “Is this your car?”

“No, thankfully,” he said wryly. “It’s part of Yongsan’s non-official fleet. Base personnel can check out a car on a first-come-first-serve basis. Believe it or not, this is one of the larger vehicles.” He grinned at her. “The only cars I fit comfortably in are full-size pickups and SUVs—not these mini things. Of necessity I’ve learned to manage.” He started the engine. “Any preference on what you’d like for dinner?”

She smiled at him, realizing that sometime in the past few minutes, she’d lost her nervous edginess. “Actually anything that isn’t kimchi and doesn’t smell like fish sounds great... In other words, I’d love something remotely American.”

He grinned again. “Pizza?”

“Perfect.”

“I know just the place. There’s an Italian restaurant on Itaewon that does a terrific Chicago–style pizza.” He put the Kia into drive and headed toward the exit.

“I’ve not yet been to Itaewon,” Claire said.

Luke chuckled. “Well, there’s a first time for all of us. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. It’s kind of a cross between 5th Avenue in New York City and New Orleans’s Bourbon Street. Plus, it’s only a couple of miles from the Yongsan Army Base, so there are a lot of servicemen and a number of...not particularly reputable people.” He looked a little sheepish. “Well, you’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, Luke pulled into a parking spot in a very busy commercial area and Claire was able to take in the street first hand. She saw bustling department stores interspersed with classy restaurants and dives. Coffee shops were adjacent to small stores selling everything from T-shirts to leather goods to gold jewelry to knock-off purses and shoes. Street vendors sold CDs, DVDs and cigarettes, as well as an assortment of food items—most of which Claire didn’t recognize and didn’t find particularly appealing.

During the three-block walk to the Italian restaurant, Luke kept Claire closely at his side, with his hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, she leaned slightly toward him, enjoying the sensation of protection. He didn’t stand out nearly as much here, as at least one-third of the crowd were Westerners. Many of the men and women were obviously military, although only a few were in uniform.

The restaurant they entered could have been located in any city in the U.S. Although it was crowded at the dinner hour, they were quickly ushered into a booth. Settled into her spot, Claire studied her surroundings. The tables were covered in white cloths and graced with small vases of flowers and votive candles. The aroma of garlic, basil and tomatoes permeated the room. The patrons were a decided mix of locals and visitors, mostly dining in pairs and small groups. A waiter handed them each a menu and in passable English asked for drink orders.

“Would you like some wine?” Luke asked.

“No, thanks. I don’t drink much, but go ahead if you wish.”

“Can’t tonight. I’m actually ‘on call.’” Luke requested a soda from the waiter.

“I’ll have the same,” Claire said, and the server nodded, saying he’d be back shortly for their order.

“On call for what?” Claire asked. “Is it for the embassy?”

“No, it’s for my day job. Actually, day, night, whenever job. I don’t exactly keep regular hours. The embassy gig is necessary because I’m Navy and they don’t have enough Marine officers here to do weekend duty—long story—anyway, I’m glad now to have done it because that’s how I met you.” His quick smile was genuine, and Claire felt an odd flutter in her stomach. She blushed and glanced down to her menu.

“So, tell me about your ‘whenever job.’”

He shrugged. “I review surveillance feeds all day and write reports to send up the chain of command. Sometimes I go into the field to verify impressions...pretty routine stuff...”

Claire doubted that anything he did was routine, but he seemed hesitant to go deeper. “How long have you been here doing surveillance?”

“About a year. Before that, I was stationed in several places—mostly the Persian Gulf and the Middle East.” He’d been studying her face and abruptly changed the subject. “You have the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen.” His voice was quiet, with a pensive quality, almost as if he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.

Claire glanced down at her napkin and then back up to catch his gaze. “Yes, uh...” She shifted awkwardly and pressed her lips together. “It’s called ‘sectoral heterochromia iridis’ if you want the technical name. Basically, it’s just an irregular pigmentation of the iris.” She took a breath. “I’ve had to respond to questions about it all my life...”

He looked sympathetic but didn’t drop the subject. “So you get a lot of people staring when they notice?” It was both question and comment. “I get the same reaction when anyone sees my feet.”

His offhand comment startled a giggle from Claire, and she couldn’t prevent a side glance to the floor to study his shoes. He hadn’t been joking. Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners at her raised eyebrows.

In seconds, she grew serious again. “When I was a kid it really bothered me when people said something about my eyes. I hated being different from the other kids, and I was really shy.” She looked up again; his gaze had not faltered. “Anyway, when I was old enough I made my parents get me colored contacts, so my eyes would just be brown. That helped a lot, but...” She sighed deeply. “Well, I was so happy with the contacts that I stupidly wore them all the time. After about a year, I ended up with pretty severe corneal ulcerations, and came close to needing a cornea transplant. That was the end of the contacts and so...” She gave him a small frown and motioned to her glasses.

He shook his head and murmured, “Kids can be dumb... I think they’re beautiful.”

The room suddenly seemed to be closing in and Claire felt a little dizzy. That feeling was accompanied by a lightness in her chest and tears threatened. She blinked self-consciously and returned her gaze to her napkin. Her heart rate soared and her stomach quivered. He couldn’t know that with that simple statement—with those four words—Luke had helped salve a wound that was more than twenty years old. In that brief moment, years of distress and embarrassment over her unusual eyes were replaced by a sense of release edging into quiet exultation.

He had called them beautiful.

Claire’s attention was brought back to the moment when the waiter placed cool glasses of Coke in front of them. “What you want to eat?” he asked.

Luke shifted his gaze to the waiter and said, “Sorry, we’re not ready. Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course. I will return shortly.” He moved on to the adjacent booth.

Slightly dazed, Claire took a sip to quench her suddenly dry mouth. Setting the glass down, she picked up her menu and tried to focus. She was not entirely successful.

“Their pizza is terrific, but they do great lasagna and pasta, too.”

Claire was still reeling from the emotional onslaught brought on by his comment, but she managed to say, “I’ve had my heart set on pizza since you mentioned it. I’m partial to pepperoni but hate anchovies. Otherwise, I like pretty much anything.”

“Got it. Note to self, in the future, don’t order pizza with anchovies.”

Claire smiled then, recognizing the implications of his comment. As Luke turned to get the attention of the waiter, his cell phone rang. He glanced at her and said something under his breath before pulling the device from his pocket. After scanning the caller ID, he pushed a button on the phone and growled, “Llewellyn.”

Although there was little overt change in Luke’s expression, she saw a muscle flex in his jaw. “How long ago?” He nodded absently at the response and looked pensive. “How many?...Have you notified ROK command?...Okay, contact them to be on alert status.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll be there in about fifteen.” Luke ended the call and then glared at Claire. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta go.” His scowl was almost comical. “Maybe I’m being punished for being mean to my brothers or not cleaning my room or something...” He got the attention of the waiter. “We have to leave. Please give me the check.”

The waiter nodded and said, “One minute.” He departed toward the kitchen.

“Anything serious?” Claire asked.

“No, not really. Looks like there’s a squid boat in the Japan Sea with too many people.”

She blinked. “Why does the U.S. Army care how many people are on a squid boat? Are they afraid the boat will sink?”

He chuckled. “Uh, no. But a larger-than-normal contingent of men could be a potential threat to the mainland. Most likely, though, they’re North Korean refugees.”

She nodded, her curiosity piqued. “But it’s night. How do you know how many people are on a random fishing boat somewhere out at sea?”

Luke gave her an enigmatic look but didn’t answer.

“Oh...I get it. If you told me, you’d have to kill me?”

He chuckled. “Nothing that dire. But I’m not going to tell you.”

She giggled and then became more serious. “What happens if they are refugees?”

His smile faded. “There are surprisingly few people who actually escape from the north. No one can get through the DMZ because of the mines and heavy fortification. A few hundred per year come through China, but the Chinese government really discourages that and will send them back if they’re caught—and it’s very bad for those who are sent back. Fewer people come by boat, mostly because they lack the resources and opportunity. At any rate, the ROK—Republic of Korea—never turns them away. There are lots of agencies here to help refugees assimilate...”

He was interrupted when the waiter gave him the check. Luke glanced at it then pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to the waiter. “Thanks. We’ll try again tomorrow.” He rose and waited for Claire, then stood to one side, indicating that she should precede him.

“You know,” Claire said as they left the restaurant, “I’ve heard that when some people go on blind dates, they’ll have a friend call them an hour into the evening with an ‘emergency,’ to give them a way out...” She winked at him.

Luke scoffed. “Believe me, honey, this is not one of those times.” He looked relieved that she was actually joking with him. “Can we...um... Would you consider trying again tomorrow?” His eyes were practically pleading.

She smiled. “Yes, of course. But if you get another mysterious phone call before I get pizza, I’ll be very suspicious!”

“I promise. If you’ll come with me again, no phone calls!”

As they approached the Kia, he glanced at Claire. “What kind of identification do you have with you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you happen to have your temporary passport?”

“Well, yes.” She touched her purse. “Why?”

“What about a driver’s license or some kind of picture ID?”

“I have my hospital ID but not a driver’s license since I don’t drive here... Why?” she repeated.

“Good. That’ll make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” Claire was getting increasingly confused.

“Getting you on base. I have to get back now, so I can’t drive you home.”

“Why do I need to go onto the base?” She motioned to the very busy street. “It’s not a problem. I can just catch a taxi.”

“No.” His tone was blunt. “That’s not an option.”

“Wait a minute! Of course it’s an option.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Seriously, Luke, I understand that you need to get back to the base right now, But you don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Her tone suggested it would be wise if he didn’t argue.

“Mary Claire—” his drawl was back, much stronger than before “—in case you’ve forgotten, the reason I came to see you today—well, at least part of the reason—is because I’m convinced someone targeted you the other night. Someone who fully intended to hurt you. I can’t take you home, but I can make sure you get home safely, which is why I need to get you on base.” He took her hand and started again in the direction of the car.

She had already lost the battle, softening even further when he’d called her ‘Mary Claire.’ Besides, she really liked the feel of his large hand enclosing hers. Trying to accommodate to his need to hurry, she said, “Luke, you’re sweet for worrying about me, but this is only tonight. You can’t be with me tomorrow morning when I go to work or tomorrow evening, or the next day, or the next.” She glanced at him and the corners of her mouth turned up a little, “Well...tomorrow evening...” she said hopefully.

“I know,” he said, his expression somber. “But I can be sure tonight. I promise that you’re going to be safe tonight.” There was a hint of something ominous in his tone. “This is my watch, Claire. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch.”

* * *

PER LUKE’S INSTRUCTION, Claire’s escort not only walked her to the door, but he waited until Jessica answered and questioned her as to whether everything was in order before he left. Following Korean customs, Claire slipped off her shoes and placed them on a small rack in the entry.

Jessica practically pounced on Claire as she closed and locked the door. “Okay, who was that and why are you home already? And where is Lieutenant Luke?”

“That was Mr. Kim. He’s one of the local men who work on the Army base. He helps with translation and transportation—that sort of thing. Anyway, Luke was called in to take care of an emergency and he pretty much conscripted Mr. Kim to bring me home.

“What happened?” Jessica persisted.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” she replied. “Dinner was interrupted, and I’m starved.”

In the small kitchen, Claire pulled some crackers and peanut butter out of the pantry, grabbed a plate and sat down at the table with her friend. Between bites, she ran though the events of the evening, explaining how Luke had stopped by the hospital, ostensibly to warn her of a possible threat but also to ask her to dinner. She grinned when she recounted his shy hesitance. Claire described their walk down Itaewon to the Italian restaurant and how he’d been called just as they were about to order pizza. “When he drove us onto the base, the guard waited with me at the car while Luke disappeared into one of the buildings and came back with Mr. Kim.”

“And then....” Jessica prompted.

“And then, what?”

“So Luke just waved goodbye and walked away with a ‘see you later, baby’?”

“Not exactly.” Claire grinned.

“Well, what exactly? I want details.”

“He was very gentlemanly.” Claire smiled as she took a bite of a peanut butter covered cracker. “He took my hand and asked what time I wanted to try dinner again.”

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