Eva took a cleansing breath, closed her eyes to gather her strength and concentrated on breathing shallowly through her mouth, using the same method for mastering pain that had gotten her through childbirth. If she could endure that, she could endure anything, especially a splinter.
Yet what kind of splinter would hurt this much? Or could have penetrated her winter coat? “What’s wrong?”
She opened her eyes to find that Sergeant Norton had returned and was kneeling in front of her. Although her vision had adjusted to the darkness, she still couldn’t see much more of him than his silhouette against the glow from the communication instruments. He looked large and hard, uncompromisingly male, and she had an insane impulse to lean into his chest and feel the shelter of his body once more.
Was she getting delirious? She reminded herself again not to take his concern personally. “How much longer before we reach the helicopter?” she demanded.
“A while yet,” he replied vaguely. He moved closer. “Dr. Petrova, I know you said you were fine, but you don’t look that well.”
“I believe I fell on some wood, that’s all.”
“Hey, Duncan,” he said over his shoulder. “Tell Kurt to ease up for a few minutes.”
“No can do, Jack. Weather’s getting uglier by the minute. We’ve got to hustle.”
“No!” Eva said at the same time. “There is no need to slow down on my account.”
He took a penlight from a pocket on the leg of his pants and clicked it on. “All right,” he said easily. “In the meantime, how about letting me check over the baby? I bet you wouldn’t argue with that.”
He was right. Eva should have thought of that herself. She looked at Katya. The mittens she’d knitted for her had fallen off, as had the cap. Her wispy hair gleamed almost white in the flashlight’s narrow beam, and her face was flushed from her fussing. The sudden light startled her to silence. She looked around restlessly until she spotted Eva’s face and gave a gurgle of recognition.
Eva managed a shaky smile. “There’s my brave girl,” she whispered.
“You did a good job with that carrier you rigged up.” Sergeant Norton pushed apart the edges of her coat as he spoke. “What did you use, anyway?”
“A sheet from my bed. I knew its absence wouldn’t be detected. I did not want to raise suspicions by taking Katya’s stroller.” She panted a few times. “If anyone notices we aren’t in our quarters they’ll assume we couldn’t have gone far.”
“That was good thinking. This carrier would have kept the kid as steady as a seat belt, anyway.” He directed the light at Katya while he ran his free hand over her head and back in a cursory examination. “Did you use the sheet for these extra sacks of stuff, too?”
“Yes. For the same reason.”
“They probably helped cushion her.” He wedged the flashlight between his knees and leaned forward to peel Eva’s coat off her shoulders. “Okay. Your turn.”
She attempted to pull away, but with her back against the side of the truck there was nowhere to go. “You said you were only checking Katya.”
“Hold still. I saw blood on one of those cloth sacks.”
Her heart froze. “Oh, God. No.”
“The blood must be yours, not the baby’s,” he said. “There’s none on that sling except where it goes around your side.” He pulled a folded knife from another pocket and flicked it open. Without any warning, he sliced through the strings that suspended the bundles of spare baby clothes.
She tried to bat his hand away. As she’d learned earlier, though, there was no budging him. “Stop. What are you doing? Katya needs those things.”
“I have to get rid of your cargo so I can see where the blood’s coming from.”
“No, it’s nothing. Just a splinter.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he tossed the bundles aside. “Duncan,” he said, raising his voice. “Come over here and hold the kid for me.”
“Sorry, Jack,” he said, his fingers flying over the keyboard of a laptop computer. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
“Junior?”
The man at the tailgate shook his head without turning around. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know anything about babies.”
“What’s to know? Pretend she’s a bomb.”
“Nope. Bombs are more predictable.”
Eva crooked one arm around Katya. “She’ll be frightened without me. This isn’t necessary.”
Sergeant Norton frowned and looked at Eva. “I’m a medic. While I’m not a doctor, I have been trained in basic first aid.” He closed the knife with a flick of his wrist that made him look more like a hoodlum than a doctor. “And I intend to assess your wound.”
“No, I—”
“Ma’am, I understand you’re scared and for some reason you don’t want to admit that you’re hurt, but you’re going to have to trust me on this. You won’t be any good to your baby if you pass out from blood loss.”
She couldn’t argue with that reasoning. Not that she was going to trust him, but for Katya’s sake, she had to allow him to help her. That was the logical thing to do. And this was hardly the time to think of pride or modesty. Not with their survival at stake. Eva glanced past him at the other two men, but their attention appeared totally focused on their tasks. The window to the cab of the truck seemed too grimy to see through, even if the men in the front chose to look back. She pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod.
Sergeant Norton undid the knots that held the sling behind her neck and waist, then lifted Katya out. He supported the baby stiffly across both his palms for a moment, as if unsure what to do with her. Taking advantage of her sudden freedom, Katya began wriggling and kicking her feet. The nylon snowsuit she wore was slippery, causing him to juggle her awkwardly.
“Cup your hand under her head and lay her along your arm,” Eva said, motioning toward him. “Like an American football player.”
It took a few attempts for the sergeant to comprehend what she described. Finally, he managed to do as she instructed, tucking Katya’s legs under the crook of his elbow so he could hold her with only one hand. The baby looked tiny against his body, yet she was apparently happy with her new position. She brought her thumb to her mouth and stopped squirming.
As soon as Eva reassured herself that Katya was being held securely, the strength she’d managed to summon began to ebb. Without the warmth of her daughter against her chest, there was nothing to distract her from the pain that radiated across her ribs. She inhaled hard, then started the pattern of shallow panting once more.
Keeping the baby cradled against his side with one arm, Sergeant Norton clamped the flashlight between his teeth. With his free hand he pinched the lower edge of Eva’s sweater and pulled it upward.
Her blouse clung wetly to her skin. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the fabric was peeled away. The stinging deepened. Something hot trickled down her side to the waistband of her pants.
He let the flashlight drop from his mouth. “This is getting to be a bad habit of yours, Dr. Petrova.”
Eva exhaled on a hiss. “What?”
“You’re trying to hide things under your coat again.”
“Sergeant, I’m not—”
“Save your breath, ma’am,” he said. His fingertips were featherlight as he touched her side. “It wasn’t any splinter that caused this wound. It was a bullet.”
The storm blew in faster than any of Duncan’s meteorological program models had predicted, and as luck would have it, they were driving straight into the thick of it. The packed dirt that served as the road had already disappeared beneath a layer of snow. It was falling so fast that Jack could barely see the tracks they’d left behind them. Kurt had reduced his speed to maintain control as the wind buffeted the truck, but they were no longer concerned about making the rendezvous. Until the storm let up, the chopper wouldn’t be coming. The objective now was to find somewhere to wait it out.
Jack let the tarp fall back into place and glanced over
his shoulder. Eva had her eyes closed and was leaning against the side of the truck, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping because her hands were curled in a white-knuckled grip over the baby. At his insistence, she’d laid the kid on her lap instead of returning her to the bed-sheet carrier and strapping her back on. It was her only concession to the compress that Jack had taped over her ribs.
That woman was giving him one surprise after another. Jack couldn’t think of a single female of his acquaintance who would have even dreamt of concealing a bullet wound—or would have been capable of trying. Most men wouldn’t have endured it as stoically as Eva had. And to top it off, her main concern, once she’d learned she’d been shot, was to ensure that the bullet had missed her baby.
Damn, she was something.
Beside him, Tyler adjusted the canvas to minimize the amount of snow that curled in and resumed his watch through the gap that remained. In spite of the weather, he hadn’t relaxed his vigilance. “How bad is it?” he asked.
Jack knew Tyler wasn’t referring to the storm. Though the other men had concentrated on their own responsibilities while they’d left Jack to tend to Eva, they would be as concerned about her condition as he was. “The bullet only grazed her,” he replied, keeping his voice low so she wouldn’t overhear. “It lost most of its velocity when it passed through the side panel of the truck.”
“So it’s not serious?”
“No, it’s minor. She was lucky. There was no penetration. Just a shallow gouge where it skimmed along her rib cage.” Just? Sure, if he’d been talking about one of the guys, he’d laugh this one off. They referred to anything that didn’t involve broken bones or major organs as a flesh wound, and Eva’s was just a flesh wound. “It’s ugly, but the bleeding was already slowing down. She’ll need some plastic work once we get back if she doesn’t want a scar.”
“It must have stung like hell when she got hit.”
“Yeah.”
“She never said a word. Why do you figure that?”
It was a question Jack had already asked himself. He’d noticed that Eva had been in rough shape as soon as she’d sat up. Her sweater was black so he hadn’t been able to see the blood on it right away, but she probably wouldn’t have allowed him to touch her at all if he hadn’t used the ruse about examining her kid first. Her defensiveness had begun long before she’d been injured. She’d been prickly from the moment he’d confirmed her identity. “She doesn’t fully trust us,” he replied. “My guess is she’s worried that we’ll take the disk and leave her behind.”
“Smart woman,” Tyler said. “She must have realized what the brass are really after. There’s some heavy-duty stuff on that disk.”
“Yeah, well, then it’s a good thing we take our orders from Major Redinger. He doesn’t have much use for politics.”
“Wonder what he’ll say when he finds out about the kid.”
“Knowing the major, he’ll probably add babies to the list of possible scenarios we have to cover when we train for the next mission.”
Tyler grunted a laugh. “You could use the practice. You looked like you were getting ready to rush the kid through the Giants’ front four.”
“The football grip was Eva’s idea. It worked, too. Want me to show it to you?”
“No, thanks. Give me a nice, safe bomb any day.” He tipped his rifle to blow the snow off the scope. “So, what’s your take on our lady? Is she going to slow us down?”
“Not if she can help it. From what I’ve seen, she’s got enough willpower to walk from here to the Black Sea.”
“She didn’t seem to like you much, Jack. Guess that legendary bedside manner of yours must be slipping.”
“You’re still too young to understand women, son. If you were old enough to shave, you’d realize she was scared.”
Tyler lifted his night-vision goggles so he could slide Jack a look. “She’s got reason to be scared of you, doc. I’ve seen your handiwork, and I wouldn’t want you anywhere near me with a med kit.”
Jack let the comment pass, mostly because he agreed. He glanced back at Eva and saw that she was still sitting quietly. He’d cleaned and dressed the wound as well as he’d been able to in a moving vehicle. There wasn’t anything more he could do to make her comfortable, and he doubted whether she’d let him anyway.
During his years in the service he’d seen far worse injuries than hers. He hadn’t balked at doing whatever was needed to save his patient. The other men knew that nothing fazed him, yet the sight of Eva’s wound had turned his stomach. It had seemed so…wrong.
The kind of violence he was accustomed to didn’t belong in her world. She was too delicate, too feminine to be treated like the hardened soldiers he usually dealt with. She should be on a bed, not on a battlefield. Her skin had gleamed like satin in the glare from the flashlight. It had felt like satin, too. He’d smelled the blood immediately, but he’d also gotten a whiff of some kind of flowery perfume and the sweet musk of a female. Even while he’d done his best to focus on the gash the bullet had left, he couldn’t help being aware of how close his hand had been to the curve of her breast.
Oh, yeah. A very ripe, full breast that strained the confines of her bra. And noticing it was, considering the circumstances, totally unprofessional and bordering on sick. He shouldn’t even be thinking of her as a woman.
To the international diplomats, Eva Petrova would be considered the latest pawn in their ongoing game of one-upmanship. To his government, she would be viewed as a valuable asset and to the Russians she probably would be viewed as a traitor. Her fate, once the team got her out of here, would be anyone’s guess. But until then, she was in Jack’s charge. He should have found a way to keep her safe. He probably should have followed his instincts and pulled her into his arms before the shooting had started. To protect her, that is. Apart from administering first aid, that was the only reason he could justify touching her.
As much as he admired Eva’s courage, he couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings distract him from his duty. They were still a long way from safety. For everyone’s sake, the mission had to remain his first priority. He would need to be prepared to do whatever was required of him to ensure its success.
Scowling, Jack returned his attention to the storm.
“You realize that once the people at the research complex notice one of their scientists is missing, the patrol we ran into is going to figure out we must have her,” Tyler said. He had replaced his goggles and was sighting through the rear of the truck again. “And considering how loud that kid wailed, there’s a possibility they’ll know we have her baby, too.”
Jack sat back on his haunches. “Yeah. They’ll probably catch hell for letting us go.”
“Plus they’ll know what kind of vehicle we’re driving and what direction we went.”
“Not good.”
“Nope.
“Eva said we’d have twenty-four hours.”
“Better hope our lady’s right. The way this storm is shaping up, we won’t be getting an evac anytime soon.”
Chapter 3
Eva had to lean against the door of the hut to close it against the force of the wind. In spite of the snow that puffed through cracks in the stone walls and the tin roof, she sensed an immediate improvement in the temperature. She carried Katya to the low-backed wooden bench that was near the hearth, grateful for the fire the men had managed to build. Though low-ceilinged and crude, this building would provide better shelter for the night than the canvas-roofed truck. The baby had awakened fully shortly after they’d stopped moving, and she was sounding more insistent by the second. Her wails had escalated to the point where they were drowning out the noise of the storm.
Eva winced, though not because of the racket Katya was making. As far as she was concerned, nothing her child could do would ever bother her. The wince wasn’t due to her injury, either. Thanks to some kind of numbing salve that Sergeant Norton had applied, the pain from the bullet wound had subsided to a dull ache. The bind
ing he’d wrapped around her midriff was keeping the edges of torn skin from rubbing against her clothes with each movement. Her current discomfort was from another source entirely.
She sat on the bench and shifted Katya to her lap, then positioned herself so that her back was toward the doorway. For the moment they were alone, since the men were outside gathering more firewood or exploring what they had referred to as the perimeter. Yet even without privacy, Eva wouldn’t have been able to delay any longer. She parted the front of her coat, lifted her sweater and undid her blouse. As if sensing that help was within reach, Katya’s fussing grew frantic. The moment Eva bared her nipple, the baby latched on with a vengeance.
“I’m sorry, kitten,” Eva whispered, using her forefinger to press her swollen breast away from her daughter’s nose. “I know you were hungry. I was in a hurry, too.”
Katya gave her a look of reproach and curled one tiny fist over the edge of Eva’s nursing bra. Her cheeks worked in and out as if it had been days since she’d last been fed rather than hours.
Eva sighed in relief as the pressure in her breast began to ease. They had been fleeing for their lives, shot at by Burian’s guards and were now trapped by a storm in somebody’s abandoned hut, yet all that mattered to this child was being warm and having a full stomach. Life was so simple for her. Was there anything more beautiful, more trusting, more perfectly innocent than a nursing baby?
Eva’s eyes blurred yet again. How many times had that happened tonight? The tears had been close to the surface from the moment she’d left the complex. After years of taking pride in her intellect, lately she had been deluged with emotions. She understood why. It was because of Katya and the physiological changes of being a mother. Even if she never opened another book, never worked out another equation or published another paper, she could never regret this little miracle. “You’re such a brave girl, sweetheart. We’ll get there soon.”
Her Baby’s Bodyguard Page 3
