by Angela White
He used a soft hand to brush the damp black spikes from her cheek so that he could place a kiss there.
Kendle arched under him in surprise at the new, wet friction of their entwined bodies. Electric heat shot through her at the flash of how much she’d enjoyed his pleasure and she pulled his mouth down to hers.
6
Jenna’s place had been ransacked.
There was no sight of the shopkeeper and Luke and Kendle stared in surprise at the damage. They’d made it here in two days, but it hadn’t been fast enough. Windows broken, goods scattered, it was clear bad things had happened recently. The embers in the fire-can were still glowing.
“What should we do now?” Kendle asked lowly, searching the still greenness around them.
“Back to the hole-up, I guess,” he answered reluctantly. He was almost certain that Sheriff Cole knew where it was. They needed a place that no one would think to search.
“Can we go by the cabin first?” Kendle asked, mind suddenly on their first trip here. She’d spotted something that day, hadn’t she? Something they needed.
“Why? You leave something behind?”
“Not exactly. I...I think I spotted a clue.”
Luke studied her, hating the flashes of his awful past now slapping him. She was his now. If he wanted to keep her, he would have to fix whatever the Krafts’ had done to this island. And she would have to help, because he had nowhere to stash her. Damn it!
“Tell me where. I’ll pick a different path in.”
Sensing his waiting protests, she answered quickly. “The big tree we ate lunch under.”
Luke’s mind flashed immediately to the sense of danger he’d felt going through the area right before that, but he pushed it away to leer at her. “Yeah, I could eat.”
Kendle felt his gaze go over her sore, sated body with a familiarity that made her blush. So that’s what the big deal was. She certainly understood the fuss now.
Half a day had gone by when they made it to the big tree.
“It’s like a…name.”
Both aware that they wouldn’t make it to the hole-up in time, Kendle used Luke’s big arm to pull herself up. “That’s what I thought, too, at first, but it’s more like an arrow, you know?”
Now that she’d pointed it out, he saw what she meant.
“There.”
Luke followed her finger to a similar marking on a nearby tree.
“It’s a map,” she exclaimed excitedly. “Can we follow it?”
He glanced up at the quickly brightening sky. “Tonight.”
Kendle’s reluctance was in her tone. “We staying around here?”
“No. We’ll crash in the cabin during the day, using the hatch.”
The hatch was an escape tunnel behind the cabin that he’d told her about last week, but hadn’t shown her yet.
“That’s perfect. We can track it down by night and hide out under their noses during the day. Sounds fun.”
“Unlikely.” He retreated, tugging gently on their connecting rope. “Come on, Ms. Roberts. We can follow it for an hour before we’ll have to go underground and inspect each other.”
Kendle’s happy giggle floated through the jungle, where it was heard by another admirer. This one listened to the sound with a blinding rage. The ship was coming soon, in the next week, and when the slaves were off the island, the movie star wouldn’t be laughing anymore. Screams would be the only sound Ethan allowed from her.
Chapter Twelve
Hard Lesson
April 19th
Near Arthur, Nebraska
1
Angela ducked into the tent with no signs that her shoulder was throbbing from the quick workout she’d just put in. It had been four days since Dean’s attack and while the wound was healing, it was slow and painful.
“Good morning.”
The eighteen men mostly returned her greeting, but the nasty cut across her windpipe and then the bandage over her left shoulder had their attention. It was still bothering them to know that she’d been hurt.
Angela tried not to be annoyed, but they needed to get over viewing her as a helpless female. She couldn’t take much more of it.
“We’ve covered sanitizing and wound reactions. Today, we’ll learn to care for the wound and then move to stitch removal.”
Feeling the tension rise, she got busy laying out the supplies. “Most wounds like this one should be wiped clean once a day, and then medicated and covered lightly. Wounds that leak or develop an infection require more care.”
She gestured at their kits. “Get your journals out and come up. Tell me something about the wound, and then keep taking notes. These journals should become a part of your emergency kit so that every injury you learn to handle will be at your fingertips for comparison during a mission or emergency.”
Under Marc’s dark glare, Angela slid out of her sweater and hung it over the chair. She carefully pulled the tape up on the scabbing wound and held out the stained gauze. “Observations?”
It was hard for the protective males to ignore the crusty stitch-line that was ugly black against angry red. They were used to injuries on each other, but to view it on a female felt wrong.
“Nothing green yet.”
“There’s only a little yellow.”
“Which means?”
“There’s no sign of infection on the bandage.” Jeremy’s answer was curt.
“Good. You come up first.”
Jeremy moved a little closer, studying the leaking wound. “Brighter than yesterday.”
He wrote it in his journal, trying to ignore the stares boring into him. “It’s still bleeding.”
“Which means?”
“You need more stitches.”
“The stitches are loose?”
“It means you’re not taking it easy like you should be, so that it can heal.”
Angela motioned Marc forward, ignoring the accusing tone. “Very good. Observations.”
Marc gritted his teeth, still furious she would use herself this way. “It stinks.”
Impressed and stung, Angela asked, “Which means?”
Marc wasn’t sure what she had told them. He’d been too angry to do more than show up that first day, but he didn’t need this class anyway and she knew it. “There might be an infection. You need antibiotics.”
“Excellent.” Angela waved Daniel forward before Marc could disrupt the flow.
“Observations?”
The amazingly good shooter was the quietest man on Neil’s team and his words were short. “You haven’t taken a pill today.”
“Tell me how you know that and why it matters,” she demanded sharply.
The Level Five Eagle squared his shoulders automatically. “By your tension and the way you clenched your jaw when you took off the sweater. You’re in pain.”
Angela waited, not about to let them use her weaknesses.
Daniel’s voice hardened in recognition of her silent order. “It matters because you have to be careful about mixing medications.”
“Good. If the patient already has something in their system, you need to know, but they may not be willing or even able to tell you. Check for the signs.”
She chose Jax, one of the rookies on Marc’s team, next. “Observations?”
Angela went through them all, handling it like someone else’s medical problem to be tended, and they responded by paying attention and following her lead.
“Okay, so what do we know?”
“You might have an infection.”
“The top stitch is coming loose. Again.”
“There’s fresh dirt you need to clean out.”
Angela settled herself on the stool with only a tightening of her lips. “We’ll clean it, and then retie that stitch or put in a new one.”
Knowing from the first class that none of them would volunteer, she gestured. “Alex will do the cleaning, and Neil, the stitch. Everyone else, come up and take notes.”
Half an hour later
, Angela couldn’t hide the pain as Neil tugged too hard, sending fire racing over her shoulder.
Neil paled even more. “Sorry.”
“Come on man, get it right!”
The other Eagles were getting upset that the cop couldn’t make his big fingers do what he wanted them to. Angela tried to sound patient, shoulder throbbing. “You’re doing fine.”
Neil sent his hands back to the thin thread, trying to be gentle, but his large pads with almost no nails slipped again, this time hitting her wound directly.
Angela flinched, smothering a curse.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t stop!” her voice lashed out against his guilt. “If I were bleeding it would be a lot worse, but you have to keep moving. Get it done.”
Neil had flushed at her pain and the shouts from the Eagles behind them, but her words were exactly what he needed and he managed to get hold of the stitch this time.
“Good. Now like a shoe lace without the bow.”
The top stitch had come completely untied and they’d all caught Neil’s cringe as he removed the loose thread. To see someone so admired be reduced to butterfingers, was something of a surprise to his team. It had them all crowded around, smothering her with their hard male bodies.
Angela met Marc’s pissed glare over their shoulders. You’re next. Settle them down.
It wasn’t an order or a request, it was more of a plea in his mind, and he gave a short nod, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he could yet, without it causing a fight. The anger was too thick.
“Very good. Now we’ll have Marc come up and slap some medicine and a bandage on it. John will give me the antibiotics when he checks it tonight.”
Marc came through the suddenly clear path with stiffly set shoulders under his gun-fighter coat and crisscrossed gun belts. Tension crackled.
“Use the Bacitracin ointment. Put a light layer over everything, including the stitches.”
Her skin was hot under his chilly fingers and he frowned as he smeared the white cream over her injury. “You knew this would hurt. Why didn’t you take a pill first?”
Angela braced for more anger as she said, “Because most of the victims they’ll treat won’t have taken anything either. If they can handle my pain, what’s a stranger’s to them?”
“And if we hate the sight of it and want to give a painkiller?” Daniel asked quietly, distracting before Marc could start a fight. They were in his corner now, but that could change if he kept interfering.
“It’s up to the patient, not you. Their wants and needs come second only to their life.”
It sounded so much like Adrian that the two teams of men relaxed.
She had settled them down on her own. She and Marc realized it at the same time. Angela didn’t glance at him.
“Next, we’ll put on a tight bandage. Who can tell me why it’s not a loose one to let in air?”
“Because you’ll get it dirty if it’s not tight enough,” Marc stated, voice pointed.
“Exactly. Always judge the person a bit when doctoring. It matters. Grab that box of gauze and roll of tape and we’ll–”
“Oh, gross!” Becky was standing inside the flap. “You’ll never be able to hide that.”
Offended, (What is it with the redheaded females here?) Angela put a hand on her hip as she fired. “Like, why would I hide it, when I can disgust sooo many people?”
The men snickered at her mocking tones, even Marc cracking a grin, and the teenager snapped her mouth shut.
“John sent you?” Angela asked normally.
“Yeah, he said to try to help you for a while.”
“He couldn’t take any more,” one of the rookies muttered lowly, causing fresh laughs.
“Have a seat,” Angela instructed, mentally rolling her eyes. Great. “We’ll let you know if we need something.”
Becky immediately pranced to the empty chair next to Neil, making every member of his team tense.
Angela noticed it and made a mental note not to have the girl here again while this set of Eagles were. None of Neil’s backup liked her.
“Cut or tear a strip of gauze and try to keep it sterile. Place it over…a bit higher so the tape won’t touch a stitch. Good, now use one hand to hold it in place and the other to get the tape.”
Marc struggled to pull the sticky strips free without placing weight on the wound and was glad when it was done. This feels so bad!
“Once the injury has been treated, then you can take care of the patient’s comfort. Medication, clean clothes, warm blankets, whatever you can do for them.” Her voice sharpened again, “If they want that sort of care. Some people honestly don’t need it. You wouldn’t rush to coddle a senior Eagle, would you?”
Someone behind Neil smirked, “Yeah, that’s what they should have given Chris when he got trimmed in Cheyenne. Warm blankets.”
Grunts and cackles filled the tent and Angela chuckled. “Exactly. Some people want to be left alone. Pain means very little to them.”
“Well, I’d want meds,” Becky offered, waving at Angela’s shoulder. “Bet that would really hurt right now if you hadn’t had a pill before the lesson.”
There was silence–long enough for the teenager to realize her mistake–and then Jeremy said, “You mean like Samantha.”
He went on as if Becky hadn’t messed up, but his words were a warning to the embarrassed girl. “She took a hell of a recoil slip and didn’t even go get the stitches she needed.”
Alex, also the best natured of Neil’s team (which was good considering his skill with a firearm), supported his XO with, “She was great with that gun yesterday. Never thought Adrian’s extra piece would ride that well against a sweater!”
There was another round of laughter, but it was harder, meant to drive in the differences between the two females.
Like Neil couldn’t tell after the mud throwing, Angela thought, but didn’t say anything to stop it. She agreed with their assessment too much. Life as Becky’s mate would be full of chaos and distraction until she grew up, something none of these men wanted for their team leader, but it was also something the camp could ill afford with Neil being so high in the chain of command.
Unless the girl suddenly switched her affections to someone else, she was set on Neil. Which was unfortunate for him, because she was clueless as a nurse and more than a little annoying with her bad timing and unthinking reactions. Doctoring definitely wasn’t her forte.
Angela gestured at the realistic severed arm lying on the table. “John and I put twenty stitches in that prop last night. You’ll each remove one. Let’s get started.”
All of the men did okay, especially Neil, who was determined to make up for his earlier clumsiness, and Angela motioned Becky over reluctantly a while later. The girl had clay hands, but she’d sat quietly for nearly an hour and deserved a reward.
“You take out the last two.”
Becky did all right until she tried to pull the final stitch free. It was stuck in the fake blood Angela had been sending down the gory wound to test their nerves and reactions.
Becky pulled too hard, yanking the prop as Angela hit the button, and the girl picked the arm up to reset it on the tray.
Fake blood squirted wildly and Angela sighed in resignation as fresh crimson dotted her cheek and clean bandage.
“Oh!” Becky quickly swung the arm toward the ground, sending another shower over the Eagles.
“Damn it!” Marc’s shirt was streaked in slimy red. “Put it down!”
Becky let go, retreating. Her face was the color of the thick gel and she moved toward the flap. I can’t do anything right!
The girl fled and those who’d been snickering allowed themselves to explode, drawing in the others.
“Looks good on you, Brady!” Neil teased.
Marc let out a sigh, not thinking. “Better than what I got from the other teenager.”
The tent filled with warning gestures and glances, and Marc realized his screw-up too la
te. Their thoughts rushed over Angela, full of her drunken son.
Marc hadn’t told her.
“How could you do that to me?”
The tent went silent at her disbelieving glare.
Before he could form a response, Angela grabbed her sweater and stormed to the flap. “Class dismissed!”
If she didn’t get away from him now, there was no telling how bad it might get. He’d kept something like this from her and then had the nerve to get an attitude over her open actions? Who the hell did he think he was?
Marc ignored the call from Neil to give her some time, hurrying to catch up. “Angie, wait.”
Angela drew attention that she ignored as she stormed toward the training tent. The fake blood made it appear as though she’d been hurt again, but the guards would have to get in line behind her rage.
The fury of betrayal was ugly, dangerous. Did he know how many beatings she’d taken for that boy? Had he bled, birthed Charlie? Was it Marc’s heart ripping apart as the bombs fell? She increased her speed, holding in the pain. She didn’t want to hurt him. How could she get rid of him until she cooled off?
The training tent came into sight and she broke into a run. She would use the Eagles to her advantage; let them give him a quick lesson on how she felt about shit like this.
Not speaking, Angela hurried straight to the hayroom with a fast glance over her shoulder that told them whoever she was running from was still chasing her.
The men inside the tent took in her upset state, the fresh blood and running feet, and rushed to help. The next body to come through the flap was knocked down and dragged inside to be hit with blow after blow, before he was recognized.
The Eagles had expected Kenn and there was shock to discover someone else on the bottom of the pile instead.
Marc let Seth help him up, tone rueful. “I shoulda been expecting that, I guess.”
He shook off the bells, wiping real blood from his nose and mouth. “It’s what I get for not tellin’ her.”
Understanding filled the men, realizing what had happened. She couldn’t hit Marc right now and hope to do any damage. So, she’d had them do it.
