by Elle James
Diesel reached across to the other cot and took Reese’s hand in his. For now, all he wanted to do was hold on to this amazing woman. Tomorrow, they’d be on their way toward civilization and freedom.
* * *
REESE WOKE WITH a start. She lay for a moment, trying to determine what had disturbed her sleep.
Shouts outside the tent made her jerk to a sitting position. Light through the tent panel from the other compartment gave the room a deep gray, just-past-dusk feeling. She could see well enough, but not all the nuances.
Diesel was off the cot and standing in two seconds flat, ripping the IV from his arm. He touched her shoulder. “Sounds like we might have company. There’s a raid on the village.”
Gunshots were fired outside. Men yelled. Women and children screamed in the night.
Diesel dragged the rifle out from beneath the cot, as the zipper on their compartment was yanked up. He aimed at the intruder only to lower his rifle when a woman’s white head poked inside.
Martha’s eyes were rounded, her face flushed. “Suit up. They’re headed this way. Dr. Kowalski won’t be able to hold them off for long.” She already wore the protective suit without the hood. She nodded toward the pile she’d placed in the corner. “If they come in, look like you’re half-dead. I’ll make an excuse for a patient to be in a suit. Just don’t talk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reese said. She grabbed a suit and jammed her feet into the legs, pulling the jumpsuit up her torso as quickly as possible. Once she had hers on, she helped Diesel into his. She’d just settled the hood over his head, when loud voices sounded from the entrance to the tent.
Reese slipped her hood over her head and lay on the cot.
Diesel lay on the other, his rifle tucked beneath his leg, completely covered by the baggy synthetic fabric.
“You can’t go in there. Those patients are infected with the deadly Ebola virus,” Dr. Kowalski said.
“We will go where we please,” a deeply accented voice said.
“Let him go, Dr. Kowalski. It’s his life. If he wants to die of Ebola, let him,” Martha said. She unzipped the compartment and held back the flap door. “Go. See for yourself.”
Reese lowered her eyelids almost all of the way. She could just see through the slits.
A big black man with a camouflage outfit and a vest filled with loaded magazines leaned through the doorway with two others similarly attired. He stopped short of entering. Instead, he brandished his rifle at Reese and Diesel. “Why are they wearing these clothes?”
Dr. Kowalski stepped up beside Martha. “The two in there are hyper-contagious, we had to put them in suits to protect the other patients from getting the virus. They come from a village where all the other people have perished.”
“Perished? What is this?” the rebel demanded.
“Died,” Martha cried. “They all died.” Then she turned and sobbed against Dr. Kowalski’s chest. “Every last man, woman and child are gone from their village.”
“Then why are they here? Why didn’t you leave them to die with their people?” the rebel demanded.
“We couldn’t leave them,” Dr. Kowalski said. “They were still breathing. Our jobs are to help those in need, no matter how sick.”
“You should shoot them so they don’t infect everyone else along the river.” The rebel raised his rifle.
Reese tensed. She had no weapon to defend herself. If Diesel pulled out his rifle, they’d have all the other rebels on top of them in seconds.
A shout from outside made the man with the gun swing around. “Get them out of here. They shouldn’t be around to infect the others.”
“We’ll do our best,” the doctor promised.
“And if you see a white man and woman pass through this area, you are to send word to us immediately. Do you understand?”
Martha sobbed, and Dr. Kowalski nodded, holding her close to him. “We understand.”
Then the man with the gun was gone, taking his sidekicks with him.
Diesel rose to his feet, ripped off the hood and held his rifle at the ready.
Reese realized that if the rebel leader and his goons returned, they might not get a second chance. Again, she wished she had a weapon of her own.
As if he’d read her mind, Diesel reached into a pocket and pulled out a small pistol. “Hang on to this. It won’t stop an eight-hundred-pound gorilla, but it could ruin a man’s day if he tries to hurt you.”
She clutched the pistol, ejected the magazine in the handle and slammed it back into the grip. It was light and almost felt like a toy. But like Diesel said, it could ruin a man’s day at close range.
Martha sobbed until the shouting outside faded into the distance. When they were finally alone, but for the patients in the outer compartment, the doctor and his assistant entered the compartment.
Martha righted the IV stand and collected the empty bag from the floor. “You’ll have to go as soon as the morning boat arrives. It usually gets here early. We’re the last stop before it heads back to the closest big town. If the rebels are gone when it arrives, you should have no problem boarding. If they hang around, you might have to miss this boat and wait for the next, a week from now.”
Diesel’s gaze met Reese’s. If she read it right, they were in agreement. They would be on that boat come hell or high water. Reese was ready to be done with the jungle, mosquitos, crocodiles and anything else that could eat her in the night. She needed to get back to Ferrence. Despite their detour, they still had a political agenda to fulfill. The time they’d set aside for his safari was nearing an end. If she had any chance at all at redeeming herself, she had to get back to civilization and back to her client, Ferrence Klein.
Martha and the doctor stripped out of their protective gear and left Diesel and Reese alone in the quarantine compartment. On the other side of the panel, the medical workers checked their patients, calming them after the rebel fighters’ visit.
Soon the noise in the village ended, lights were extinguished and the little town slept.
Not Reese and Diesel. They sat on the edges of their cots, listening, waiting for the morning light of dawn and the sound of a boat engine.
* * *
THE BOAT ENGINE arrived as the gray light of predawn filtered through the white walls of the tent.
Martha and Dr. Kowalski unzipped the compartment and entered, zipping the door back up behind them.
“A different boat arrived at the dock. We think it might be American,” Dr. Kowalski said.
“You might want to check it out from the safety of the jungle,” Martha suggested. “Perhaps they are friends?”
Reese stood and stretched, tired to the bone, but curious. “Do you think it might be your team?”
“Maybe.” Diesel tucked his rifle down the leg of his protective suit, settled the hood over his head and nodded to Reese. “Let’s go see.”
Reese slid the hood over her head and nodded. Together, they left the tent and rounded to the back, walking deeper into the shadowy jungle. When they were far enough away from the encampment, they stripped out of the protective gear and hurried around the perimeter to the shore of the river, keeping an eye out for crocodiles and snakes.
When they reached a position where they could see the dock, Diesel chuckled. “It’s them.” He started for the dock.
Reese shot out a hand. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Sweetheart, there’s enough firepower on that boat to level this village. The Congolese rebels wouldn’t stand a chance against them.”
Reese and Diesel walked out of the jungle and through the makeshift shelters of plywood and shipping containers that housed the villagers who lived around the dock.
A rugged-looking metal boat with machine guns mounted on all sides rested up against the dock. Several men dressed similarly to Diesel stood on the dock, rifles in hand, ready to take on anyone.
The village was just waking up.
As Diesel stepped out into the open, a couple of the me
n spun toward him, aiming their weapons at his chest.
Reese started to jump in front of Diesel, but the men with the guns lowered their weapons and grinned.
One stepped forward. “Diesel, you old son of a bitch, figures you’d find a way to vacation with a pretty girl.” The man engulfed him in a bear hug, pounding him on the back.
“Hey, Buck.” Diesel flinched and backed away, flexing his injured arm. “Watch the arm.”
The man Diesel called Buck frowned. “Were you hit?”
“It’s nothing, just a—”
“Flesh wound?” Buck’s frown deepened. “I’ll take a look at it when we get underway.”
“No worries. It’ll hold until we get to where we’re going. The doc here patched me up and fed me antibiotics. I’m good to go.”
Buck looked beyond Diesel to where Reese stood. “You must be Reese Brantley.”
Reese nodded, suddenly feeling like she’d been rolling in a pigpen. She needed a shower and a change of clothing.
“We heard all about you from Klein.” Another, taller man stepped up next to Buck. “I’m Jake.” He held out his hand to Reese.
Wincing inwardly, she took the big man’s hand and shook it. “I’m sure it was all bad.”
“Not at all. He was worried about you.”
“Don’t lie to the lady. He was worried about who he would take with him on his political tour of Kinshasa.” Another man stepped up on the other side of Buck. “Percy Taylor, but my friends call me Pitbull. And we call Jake, Big Jake, on account of his excessive height.”
Reese shook the man’s hand, a smile playing at her lips.
Pitbull turned to Diesel. “Thought we’d lost you, man.”
Diesel shrugged. “Couldn’t get back to the boat, so we took a stroll through the jungle.”
Buck snorted. “Some stroll. I’m surprised you weren’t eaten by a lion or crocodile.”
“We were actually more worried about the poachers, our Congolese rebel kidnappers and the gorillas.”
Buck’s brows rose. “Gorillas?”
“Just a small troop of around twenty.” Diesel gave a nonchalant shrug that almost made Reese laugh.
“No kidding?” Pitbull asked, his eyes alight. “Aren’t they dangerous?”
“A little.” Diesel tipped his head toward the boat. “We should be going before the rebels return. They were here earlier. And we were supposed to be in stealth mode. Why did you come now?”
“We were going for that no-man-left-behind adage,” Buck said.
“Right,” Pitbull added. “The team just didn’t feel like it was firing on all cylinders without our Diesel.”
Diesel hooked Reese’s arm with his hand and guided her to the boat. He helped her aboard and stepped in after her, ushered her to a seat on a hard metal bench and then he stepped up behind one of the mounted machine guns.
“No way, man.” Buck shook his head. “You’re injured. You can sit this one out for now.”
“I told you, it’s just a flesh wound.”
“Yeah, and a flesh wound in Africa can go south in a heartbeat.” Buck’s lips twisted. “Humor me, will ya?”
The man at the helm waited until every man on the team was aboard the boat before he turned the craft around and headed north.
“Why aren’t we going back to our helicopter pickup point?” Diesel asked.
“The chopper went on to an airstrip in Zambia where a private plane will carry Klein to Kinshasa for the African Union convention. We’re supposed to head down the river to the next big town. Apparently, there is a bush pilot who can take Miss Brantley the rest of the way to Kinshasa. Once we leave her there, we’ll head back down the river to our previously scheduled pickup point.”
“And the stealth mode?” Diesel asked.
“We hope to be off the Congo in the next twenty-four hours.” Yet another one of the SEALs turned away from his position manning a machine gun. “We’ll leave the cover-up for the politicians and diplomats.”
Diesel settled onto the bench next to Reese, his rifle resting across his legs, one hand holding it, ready to put it to use, if the need arose.
“Navy SEALs, huh?” Reese asked, staring around at the men on the boat. “I guess that accounts for the boat.”
“Not all navy SEALs are trained for riverine missions,” Diesel said. “We’re from a Special Boat Team. We train on these kinds of boats for missions requiring extractions via water.”
Reese studied the members of the team. Each of them appeared to be fit and intent on their mission, as the boat raced along the Congo River. The helmsman maintained a steady speed, even as he rounded the curves in the winding river, skidding sideways across the surface of the water. When they came upon hippopotamuses in a wide area of the river, he skirted the beasts, giving then a wide birth. They passed canoes, dugouts and small boats with outboard motors. At one point, they passed what appeared to be the weekly supply boat, heading toward the village where Martha and Dr. Kowalski performed miracles as part of the Doctors Without Borders effort.
Three hours later, they neared a small town on the edge of the river. The jungle had been trimmed back to allow for fields of agriculture and a small airstrip.
As the fully armed boat approached the dock, people scattered, running toward town.
“Harm, Buck, Pitbull, be ready to accompany me to escort Miss Brantley to the airstrip,” Big Jake said. “A plane will be waiting to take her to Kinshasa.”
Diesel stood. “I’m going with her.”
“Stand down, Diesel,” Big Jake said. “You’re in no condition to provide for her protection.”
“I’m going,” Diesel insisted.
To be honest, Reese wanted him to come. They’d been together for the past couple days. Going on without him would feel strange. But then, she wasn’t in Africa because she needed protection. She was there to protect Ferrence Klein.
Reese laid a hand on Diesel’s arm. “It’s okay. These men can escort me to the airfield. I’ll be all right.”
Diesel touched her cheek. “You’re my responsibility. I’m going.” He glared at Big Jake and stepped off the boat onto the dock. Then he held out his hand to Reese.
She rested hers in his and let him assist her off the boat. Harm, Pitbull and Buck, armed with rifles, gathered around the two, and they moved as a unit across the dock and through the small town, to the field on the edge where a small plane awaited. Three armed men stood guard around the aircraft. A person wearing jeans, a white polo shirt and a baseball cap pushed away from the side of the plane.
As Reese and the team closed the distance between them, she realized the person in the jeans was a woman with long sandy hair pulled back in a ponytail behind her.
The woman held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Marly Simpson, your pilot.”
Reese almost laughed at the expression on Diesel’s face.
He was practically scowling at the woman. “You’re the pilot?”
She nodded, her lips twisting into a wry grimace. “I am. Got a problem with it?”
Pitbull chuckled. “Only if you don’t know how to fly the plane.”
She shot a glare at him. “I have over twenty-five hundred hours flying in this plane and others. You’re welcome to review my logbooks.” Her gaze darted around the landing strip. “I suggest we get this plane in the sky. The longer it sits on the ground, the more chance of it being shot at, hijacked or stolen.”
Reese tensed, her belly knotting. “You’ve had that happen?”
Marly sighed. “More times than you can imagine.” She planted her fists on her hips and stared at the group. “Because I have a load of cargo, I can only take three passengers and no luggage. Who’s coming?”
Reese stepped forward. “As far as I know, I’m the only passenger.” It was time to say goodbye to her rescuer. Diesel was an integral part of the military. Surely he had better things to do than escort her around the Democratic Republic of the Congo. She turned to thank him. “Diesel, thank you for get
ting me out of the jungle alive.” She held out her hand to shake his, her heart clenching in her chest. “Without you and your men, who knows what would have happened to Ferrence. Thank you.”
He took her hand and refused to let go.
Chapter Six
With Reese pretty much telling him to shove off, Diesel’s pulse rocketed. Before he could think through his decision, he said, “You’re welcome. But I’m coming, too.”
“What the hell?” Buck sputtered. “That’s not part of the plan.”
“I’m not letting them go without someone to ride shotgun,” Diesel said. “You heard Marly, the plane and the people in it are subject to being hijacked. I’m not turning Reese loose without an escort all the way to Kinshasa.”
Buck stared at the men guarding the plane. “What about them?”
Marly followed his gaze. “They’re only contracted for guarding this airstrip. They’re not coming with me.”
As far as Diesel was concerned, Marly’s words sealed the deal. “I’ll find my way back to Djibouti. I’m not ditching Miss Brantley now. We’ve come too far together for me to walk away.”
“I can take care of myself,” Reese insisted.
“You’re not in the States,” Buck argued. “This is the DRC. The current government is run by a tyrant refusing to allow democratic elections. He could imprison you without cause and no chance for a trial.”
Reese lifted her chin. “I’m here on a diplomatic mission and to protect Ferrence Klein, not to have you or anyone else protect me.”
“Tough,” Diesel said. “I’m coming with you. End of argument.”
Marly frowned at them. “Please tell me you aren’t going to argue the entire trip?”
“We aren’t.” Reese crossed her arms over her chest. “Because he’s not coming with me.”
“Do you always argue this much?” Diesel shook his head and gripped her arm. “Sweetheart, we’ve come too far together. I can’t just let go. I need to know you’re safe. You’d do the same if the situation was reversed.”
Reese stared into his eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin line. After a moment, her stance relaxed and the corners of her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Given all that’s happened, I would appreciate someone having my back.” She glanced at the members of his team. “But what about your team?”
