One Intrepid SEAL

by Elle James

  Reese nodded and followed him, doing what he did, moving from shadow to shadow, until they stood at the edge of an encampment scraped out of the jungle. A dock had been erected, jutting out into the river. Several small skiffs with outboard motors were tied to the jetty, and canoes lay beached on the banks nearby. People moved about the small village, some carrying what appeared to be bags of grain. Others had handmade baskets filled with a variety of fruits and vegetables.

  Diesel’s mouth watered, but he didn’t dare step out of the jungle until he knew for certain they were not in danger.

  Reese tugged on his shirt and pointed to the far side of the village, where a large white tent had been erected with the words MEDICINS SANS FRONTIERES written across the sides. She grinned at him and mouthed the word “Bingo.”

  An older woman with white hair, wearing blue jeans, a T-shirt and a yellow-and-white jacket stepped out of the tent and stretched her back, staring out at the river.

  Diesel backed away from the village, far enough that their voices wouldn’t carry. “We need to get to that tent. Hopefully, whoever that woman is speaks English and can tell us how to get a ride out of here.”

  Reese nodded.

  “Follow me.” Diesel led the way, making a wide circle around the camp, coming up from behind the medical tent. He couldn’t see straight into the tent. The back was closed off, with only the front opening for an entrance.

  Fortunately, the white-haired woman stepped around the tent with a bucket of water and walked toward the jungle. Just as she swung her arms back to empty the bucket, Diesel spoke. “Hey, do you speak English?”

  The woman yelped, dropped the bucket and stepped backward. “Who said that?”

  Reese stood, exposing her position to the woman. “We did. Hi, I’m Reese and this is Diesel.”

  Diesel rose to stand beside her. “Ma’am, are you American?”

  She nodded, pressing a hand to her breast. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.” The woman frowned. “I’m Martha Kowalski. And yes, I’m American. Why are you hiding in the jungle?”

  “My friend was held captive by Congolese rebels. I helped her escape, and they might be looking for us.” Diesel glanced behind the woman.

  The woman looked over her shoulder and back to Diesel and Reese. “You’re right to worry. We’ve had to be very careful. If it weren’t for the fact they need us here so badly, I’m sure we would be in more danger than we are. How can I help you?”

  Reese spoke before Diesel. “He’s been shot and needs medical attention.” She pointed to the bloody scrap of T-shirt on his arm.

  The woman moved closer, frowning. “We have the medications and bandages you’ll need. But to get you into the tent to take care of it will alert the village to your presence.” She bit her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

  Diesel and Reese ducked low into the foliage and waited for the woman’s return.

  Several minutes passed. Diesel began to think she wasn’t coming back or had run into trouble. But then she appeared around the side of the tent, carrying an armful of packages. A man followed her, just as old and white-haired as the woman, carrying more sealed packages.

  They walked into the jungle and kept going until they were well outside the perimeter of the camp. Diesel and Reese followed.

  “Reese, Diesel, this is my husband, Dr. Jerry Kowalski.”

  The man nodded and set his packages on the ground. “These suits will get you into the tents, past the other patients and their families, no questions asked.”

  They tore into the sealed packages to discover personal protective suits. “We had these shipped in recently because there have been several reported cases of the Ebola virus. We use these suits to protect medical staff from patients infected with highly contagious diseases or viruses.”

  Diesel grinned. “And they will cover us from head to toe.” He reached for one of the packages and winced. He hadn’t said anything to Reese, but his arm had become increasingly sore and achy over the past few hours. He suspected infection had set in. He handed one of the suits to Reese. “Suit up.” The sooner he got the arm treated, the sooner they could be on their way back to civilization and safety.

  Then he and Reese would part ways. Somehow, that end goal didn’t make him happy. He’d dated other women, but none he’d considered going out with more than once or twice. Reese would have been another story. He could see spending time with her and enjoying it. But what else could he do? His job would be done, and she had hers to resume.

  Chapter Five

  Reese pulled the yellow-and-white jumpsuit of synthetic fabric up over her legs, hips and torso, then pushed her arms through the sleeves.

  Diesel seemed to struggle into his, barely using his injured arm.

  Reese suspected the wound was infected and could turn septic if they didn’t get it cleaned out and fill him with antibiotics quickly.

  Martha held up a hand. “Wait.” She helped him remove the shirt and the bandage, exposing the wound. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “We need to tend to it immediately.” She helped him into the suit and slipped the head gear over his face.

  Martha and Dr. Kowalski suited up, as well.

  Once they were all fully covered, the four of them walked out into the open, led by Martha and Jerry. They walked around to the front of the tent and entered.

  Cots lined the walls inside, and a section in the very back was blocked off by walls of waterproof tent material with a zippered door as an entrance. Martha unzipped the door and held it to the side as Dr. Kowalski, Diesel and Reese entered. Martha entered behind them and zipped the door shut again. No one could see in or out of the small area.

  As quickly as they could, Martha and Dr. Kowalski shed their protective suits and went to work. Martha switched on a battery-powered light hanging from the ceiling and set up a tray of medical equipment, gauze and a bottle of clear saline solution. Dr. Kowalski washed his hands, slipped into a surgical shirt and mask and stepped up to Diesel. “Have a seat.” He indicated the end of the cot with a tilt of his head.

  Diesel didn’t argue. His wound was hurting, the pain radiating throughout his arm.

  As a former soldier, Reese knew as well as anyone what happened to wounds that were left untreated. She hoped they weren’t too late to fight the infection.

  The doctor irrigated the site and cleaned it thoroughly. Martha handed him what he needed, without having to be asked. They worked well as a team. When they had the site completely cleaned of dirt, dried blood and pus, Dr. Kowalski sewed the skin shut, applied a bandage and held it in place with adhesive tape.

  “Now lie down,” Martha said.

  Diesel obeyed.

  Martha set him up with an IV of clear liquid and added something to the tube.

  He frowned. “You’re not giving me a sedative, are you?” he whispered, careful not to let his voice carry beyond the thin walls of the tent.

  She shook her head. “No. Just an antibiotic to ward off infection. You need to have your wits around you if those rebels show up in the village.”

  He smiled at the woman and her husband and mouthed the words “Thank you.”

  The smile melted everything at Reese’s core. She had to turn away to keep him from seeing how it affected her by the heat rising in her face.

  Martha patted his shoulder. “The fluids will help keep you from dehydration.” She glanced at Reese. “I’ll bring you water and food. In the meantime, you look like you could use some rest.” She switched off the overhead light, plunging the room into darkness.

  Reese hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.

  Martha and the doctor dressed in their protective suits and left the isolation room, zipping the door behind them. A faint light shined through the thin tent wall.

  Reese scooted a cot close to Diesel and lay on her side, staring across at him, wanting to be near him. “Feel better?”

  “I will when the infection dies down.” He pressed h
is lips together. “We can’t stay here long.”

  “I know. But let the antibiotics get into your bloodstream and the additional fluids. Then we can decide what to do next.”

  Diesel held out his free hand, capturing hers. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She snorted. “I’m fine. A few blisters and a little heat rash, but nothing a bath and a pedicure won’t fix.” She winked.

  “I can’t imagine an MMA fighter getting a pedicure.”

  She laughed softly, though her heart was flip-flopping at the way his fingers rubbed hers. “You’d be surprised what’s required. Not only did we have to have our hair and makeup perfect, but we had to have neatly manicured nails. We had to look good while we pounded each other’s faces into the mats.”

  He touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “Is that why your nose is crooked? Not that it isn’t cute, but I wondered.”

  She stiffened. “No.” Her nose had been broken by the Taliban.

  “Was it always crooked?”

  “No.” Reese released his hand, rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The last thing she wanted to think about was her experience in Afghanistan. She prayed her current situation didn’t end up similarly. Hopefully, having a navy SEAL around would help keep her safe.

  “Sorry. I take it I’m stepping into no-man’s land again.”

  She shrugged and lay for a while without speaking, breathing in and out to calm her racing heart.

  * * *

  DIESEL CLOSED HIS eyes and drew in a deep breath.

  Reese had some baggage she carried around. Trying to talk to her about it was like walking through a minefield. He suspected she’d open up eventually, if he was patient.

  His fists clenched. The men who’d captured her in Afghanistan must have done horrible things to her. He wished he could find them and strangle them with his bare hands. Any men who mistreated women were barbarians who didn’t deserve to live.

  Then out of the darkness, Reese’s voice sounded in a barely discernible whisper. “I was a driver in a convoy transporting supplies to one of the forward operating bases, when we were surrounded by Taliban fighters.

  “The first vehicle hit an IED, killing the driver, the passenger and the gunner. The explosion disabled the truck, blocking the road. I tried to turn around, but we were rushed by men carrying rifles and machine guns.

  “My passenger didn’t even make it out of the truck to lay down return fire before he was shot and killed. I was hit in the arm. I couldn’t hold my weapon in my left hand, much less shoot straight.” Her whispers grew strangled.

  Diesel didn’t stop her or try to offer words of encouragement. He let her talk, the darkness providing her a little anonymity. His chest tightened with each of her words. He wanted to reach out and take her into his arms and hold her until all the bad memories disappeared.

  Reese was silent for a few moments. “They grabbed me and hauled me off to one of their villages deep in the hills.” She snorted. “That’s when the fun began.”

  Diesel heard the pain in her voice.

  “Let’s just say, they don’t treat women well...” Her voice seemed to fade. Diesel almost didn’t hear her when she said, “And I’ll never be able to have children.”

  Diesel had suspected the Taliban fighters had raped and tortured her. But hearing her quiet admission about children hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, his heart aching for the young woman so badly abused by her enemy. If he could, he would have taken away all of her pain and killed every one of the bastards who’d done the damage.

  She gave a harsh laugh. “I was one of the lucky ones. A Delta-Force team had targeted that village to eradicate the Taliban hiding there. They found me and took me back to the nearest medical facility. From there, I was flown back to the States, where I had an almost ‘full’ recovery, but I was processed out on a medical discharge for PTSD.”

  Diesel lay for a while, unsure of what to say. Nothing seemed appropriate, and he couldn’t get up and wrap his arms around her with a blasted IV in his arm.

  “I was out of the army, out of a job and angry. I vowed never to be vulnerable like that again. So, I worked out, took self-defense and martial arts lessons. One day, a woman approached me about joining the MMA circuit. She thought I had what it took to succeed in the arena. I had so much hate and anger simmering below the surface, I needed an outlet.”

  “That’s a tough job,” Diesel commented.

  “You’re telling me. I gave it two years. When I was tired of broken fingers, cracked ribs and having my bell rung more times than I could count, I retired and started my own bodyguard business. That’s where Ferrence’s father came in. He was my first, and possibly my last, client.”

  “You’ll have more. You can’t blame yourself for what happened while you were unconscious.”

  “Yeah, I could have insisted we avoid the situation all together.”

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. You have to move on. Learn from your past, but leave it in the past.”

  She grunted. “Easy to say, not to do.”

  “I know.” And he did. He’d lost several of his buddies in operations that had gone south. For months afterward, he second-guessed his every move during newer assignments. When it began to impact every new operation, he sought help. Not with anyone in the military. One of his friends had a wife who was a psychologist who specialized in treatment for soldiers with PTSD. She’d helped him to come to grips with his past, to allow him to move forward into this future. Without her help, he’d still be hesitating when he should be acting, and possibly costing more lives due to indecision.

  To Diesel, Reese sounded like she hadn’t found her way to the future. She was still beating herself up over the past, afraid to think there was a future for her.

  War had a way of breaking perfectly healthy individuals.

  Before Diesel could think of anything to say that would make everything better for Reese, Martha unzipped the door and entered, carrying a tray of food. Light shined in from the other tent compartment. Martha still wore the protective gear and remained in it until she closed the zippered door.

  She reached for the overhead light, turned it on and set the tray on the end of Reese’s bed.

  Reese sat up.

  When Diesel also tried to sit up, Martha shook her head. “Lay still. I’ll bring it to you.”

  “You don’t have to wait on us. We’re hungry and able-bodied,” Diesel reassured her, careful not to talk too loudly.

  “You need to let the antibiotics do their job,” Martha warned him.

  “Right now, food is as important as the antibiotics.” Reese licked her lips, staring at the crackers and peanut butter Martha proffered.

  Other items were packaged like the US Army’s Meals Ready to Eat or MREs. Even those sounded good at that point.

  Diesel’s mouth watered.

  “Go ahead, then.” Martha smiled. “Eat and then rest. The doctor and I will keep watch.”

  Reese grabbed for a cracker, slathered peanut butter over the surface and handed it to Diesel.

  He waited until she had one for herself and then bit into it like it was a delicacy.

  “I’d offer you some of the local cuisine, but I’m not certain your bellies could handle it right now. Eat what’s there, and I’ll get more.”

  “Mrs. Martha,” Diesel said.

  “Yes?”

  “Is there a way to get to a larger town? One with a telephone or a cell phone tower?”

  Martha nodded. “The boat comes once a week, carrying supplies and mail. You’re in luck. It’s due to arrive tomorrow.”

  Diesel glanced over at Reese. “Do you think we can barter for passage on the boat?”

  “Certainly. It’s how we got here and how the locals get to and from the market upriver. Do you have any Congolese currency?”

  Diesel smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He reached into a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a
plastic bag filled with different currency notes.

  Reese chuckled. “Another item from your survival kit?”

  He grinned. “Absolutely. You never know when you have to bribe your way out of a situation.”

  Martha smiled. “You are a resourceful man.”

  “I try,” Diesel said. “Will this be enough?”

  Martha thumbed through the bills, separated a few and held them up. “Don’t offer more than this. If they know you have more, they’ll charge you more.” The older woman checked Diesel’s IV, fussed over his bandages and then slipped her hood back on and left the compartment.

  Diesel and Reese didn’t talk for the next few minutes. Instead, they ate, concentrating on filling their empty stomachs.

  Martha had gone to the trouble of heating some of the packages. Diesel found one of macaroni and cheese and ate every last bite.

  Reese dug into one marked beef stew.

  When they’d eaten their fill, Diesel lay back on the cot and stared up at the light dangling from the ceiling. “I didn’t realize just how hungry I was.”

  “Me either.” Reese lay down beside him, closed her eyes and yawned.

  “You should sleep. You heard our host. Martha and the doctor will warn us if the rebels find their way to this village.”

  “At this point, I’m not sure I could keep my eyes open.” Reese yawned again and tucked her hand beneath her cheek.

  Diesel stared over at her, admiring the way her lashes formed dark crescents beneath her eyes. She’d kept up with his grueling pace and hadn’t complained. She’d been through hell and back on more than one occasion and hadn’t cracked. Reese was one tough cookie. On the outside. But she was soft and vulnerable on the inside.

  “Diesel?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, sweetheart?” he answered.

  “What I told you,” she yawned, “I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I’m okay. And I never told anyone else.”

  “Gotcha.” Diesel’s gut clenched. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thanks,” she said on a sigh. Soon the sound of her steady breathing let him know she’d fallen asleep.

  He watched her until his own eyelids drooped. He needed sleep as much as she did to continue their journey.