Mayhem's Warrior: Operation Mayhem

by Lindsay Cross

  “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “You’re to be at my side the whole time. Like I said, don’t make eye contact, don’t even lift your head if possible. I know the way. You have to blend in.”

  Caroline couldn’t help but mutter, “By acting like a doormat.”

  “Exactly. The women around here are valued right below the goats.” Reaper pulled open the door and they stepped into a whirlwind of activity.

  People laughed, danced, and shifted around them so quickly one face blurred into another. It was a festival of some sort. Drums pounded and there was a lady on the side of the road. The noise closed in on her, filling her mind until she thought it would burst. The cacophony of sounds jumbled together into a loud, jangling roar, interspersed with shrieks of laughter and the occasional gunshot as a militant showed off his prowess by firing his automatic rifle into the air over the crowd of civilians.

  No one else seemed to think this was odd, not even the barely dressed starving children winding their way through the adults. This was everyday life. Gunshots were as common as oatmeal had been in Caroline’s old life.

  And apparently so were buildings full of bodies.

  Someone stumbled into her, causing her to bump against Reaper. He took the force of the blow, grunting, and wound his arm around her shoulders to hold her up. It took all of Caroline’s energy to stay focused with her eyes trained on the ground. The level of noise around her was like a thousand acid-dipped ice picks to her brain and the intermittent bursts of gunfire made her jump every time. Reaper’s pace was confident and steady as he led the way through the crowd.

  “Doing good, Princess, just a couple more blocks.”

  This time she couldn’t help but glance up at him, just a quick peek. Reaper’s chin tilted down and his black eyes focused straight ahead. Whether he realized it or not, he moved like a predator, and the people nearest them automatically stepped out of his way.

  This man couldn’t be an average citizen of any country. It was like he’d been snatched out of another world altogether, one filled with warriors. And somehow she’d gotten lucky enough to have him as her own personal savior. Gratitude welled up inside her. She shifted her gaze back to the ground and snaked her arm tighter around his waist as they continued to move down the crowded street together as one.

  His rock-hard abdomen rippled beneath her fingers, not a single ounce of fat anywhere that she could feel or see. His lethal grace was unquestionable.

  And Lord help her, she wanted to wrap both her arms around him and bury herself against his body. Even in this danger-filled war zone, with men actively hunting them, her breasts ached and her stomach felt heavy and warm. She was aware of every single inch of their skin that touched. She couldn’t shake this attraction, even though she knew it was probably the least appropriate thing to be thinking or feeling at this moment. It was impossible to lie to herself. She wanted him whether he wanted her or not.

  His arm tightened around her fractionally and it took all her strength not to turn and press her cheek to his chest. She should be feeling fear, but instead her body was swamped with desire.

  Reaper’s harsh breathing pierced her senses and her desire swerved into concern. “How much farther?” she whispered.

  “Up ahead on the left. We’ll go past the front entrance and down the alley. Find the side entrance.”

  “Okay.” She followed his lead and somehow they wound their way through the crowd without raising an alarm. Then they were in the trash-littered alleyway with barely enough room for them to walk side by side out of the crushing weight of the crowd. Caroline drew in what felt like the first deep breath she’d taken since leaving the building.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” she said, speaking in an undertone.

  “People tend not to overthink what their eyes see. We looked like a Muslim husband and wife walking down the street, so that’s what people thought we were.”

  There was a narrow resting door toward the back corner of the hospital. “Caroline, I want you to do exactly as you did out in the street. Nothing has changed.”

  Reaper released her long enough to reach the door and open it. Sounds from the street were replaced by the sharp scents of antiseptic and body odor. They were in a small empty dimly lit room lined with somewhat clean cabinets that were piled with stainless steel trays and medical instruments. Directly in front of them was another door, this one white. “You ready?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  12

  But this hospital wasn’t like any of the ones Caroline had experienced back in Washington, D.C. Stains smudged down the hallways on the walls and floors. The low ceiling hung with intermittent lighting that blinked on and off, casting eerie shadows every few feet. It was as if the entire place was a warning to stay away. And if there’d been any other option, that’s exactly what she would’ve done.

  Desperate times called for equally desperate measures.

  “In here.” Reaper’s large hand pointed over at a doorway to his left. The metal door screeched open, and she nearly curled into a ball on her knees right then and there, sure the guards would come running with the machine guns firing. No one even poked their head out of a nearby room to investigate the sound. Just like the children in the streets hadn’t flinched at the gunfire.

  Reaper didn’t hesitate. He crossed to the nearest cabinet and began yanking out drawers. “I need you to find a scalpel, some forceps, anything that looks like a disinfectant and clean bandages. If you find an IV bag, we’ll count this as our lucky day.”

  “Oh—okay.” Caroline began yanking out drawers on her own, trying to follow his instructions despite being totally uncertain of what she was seeking. She should be able to spot an IV bag, but forceps? She had no idea what they would look like—giant tweezers?—but at least she knew scalpels were blades. She got lucky though, and found a handful of scalpels in the third drawer she yanked. They had pale green handles, plastic, not the stainless steel kind she’d expected, but the ends were covered in sealed sheaths that indicated they were (hopefully) sterile. She snatched up the entire bunch and lifted her fist triumphantly into the air. “Found the scalpels!”

  Reaper turned, his arms full of thick plastic-wrapped rolls of gauze and other silver instruments she couldn’t name. “There’s a drawer full of IV bags behind me. Grab as many as you can. They won’t keep the sharps in the same room. We’ll have to look for those somewhere else.”

  “Sharps?” She asked as she gathered the clear bags of fluid into her arms.

  “Needles. They can’t keep needles in the exam rooms. Too many drug users. They’d be stolen and the hospital can’t afford to replace them.” By the time he finished speaking, he was already at the door. Even injured, he was surefooted. Caroline firmed up her chin and rushed after him, clutching the supplies to her chest with a death grip.

  “But if we keep pressing our luck, someone’s going to spot us.”

  Reaper cast a long glance over his shoulder. This one made her slam her mouth shut on any further objections.

  “If we don’t find those antibiotics, neither one of us is likely to make it out of this town alive.”

  The finality of his words sank in deep and fast, sending a shudder straight through her skin and into her bones. Every harsh word he said was true, but it scared the living daylights out of her just the same. “Don’t we need to tuck in close together, like before?”

  If he didn’t stop staring at her without speaking, she was going to lose her ever-loving mind. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence and studying, he nodded. “Yes, come on. Try to hide the supplies under your clothes and stay close.”

  Juggling both her and his handful of equipment, Reaper reached for the door. Before he could open it, a young woman pulled it wide from the other side. For a moment, the woman stood there in shock, obviously the room was occupied.

  The first thing Caroline saw was the hideous spider web of scars running down the left side of her face, pulling her eyes
and mouth into a grotesque angle. She was wearing a white uniform in the shape of the robe Caroline had on. It hung loose on her frame and covered her from neck to feet. Her headscarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and hair, revealing only her scarred face.

  At once her gaze turned suspicious, but the tone of her voice was nonthreatening when she asked them something in the local language. A language Caroline had no hope of ever deciphering.

  Reaper grunted and swayed on his feet and Caroline immediately made a grab for his chest to keep him from falling.

  Her unconscious movement sent the IV bags and scalpels crashing to the ground and any hesitancy in the woman’s expression disappeared. Caroline’s heart squeezed up into her throat as she stared wordlessly at the woman.

  “We mean you no harm. We were attacked and we are only seeking supplies.” Reaper’s cracked voice barely registered on Caroline. It felt like her whole world was about to come crashing down around her. All this woman had to do was scream or yell or make any type of noise to alert the guards outside. But the young woman held silent and her gaze shifted from Reaper to Caroline.

  “You speak English?” she said in near-perfect dialect.

  Too scared to help, Caroline said hesitantly, “Yes. We were attacked and we just need medical attention. I swear, we’re not trying to steal from you.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman that her father would cover any expenses, but something told her not to go there. The poverty in this place would make a decent person desperate.

  The woman entered the room, pulling the door squeakily shut behind her. Her dark brown gaze reflected more wisdom and experience than was normal for someone her age. “No, you’re not trying to steal drugs. I can spot those animals from miles away. Are you aid workers or reporters?”

  Caroline shot Reaper a scathing glance, but he answered before she could open her mouth and say something along the lines of I tried to tell him that. “Aid workers and there are people who would wish us great harm and we did not want to risk the innocents in his hospital if we didn’t have to.”

  Seeming a bit bolder, the woman pushed farther into the room, forcing Caroline and Reaper to either back up or bump into her. Her back was turned when she said, “I might be young, but I’m not a fool. You’re sneaking around because you don’t want to be caught by the guards.”

  She probably should’ve kept her mouth shut, but Caroline sensed the young woman was searching for something from her, some sign that she and Reaper were not a threat. It could be a total trap, of course, and Caroline could be completely misreading the situation. Lord knew she had never had to rely on her instincts like she was doing now. Up until the day she’d run from her own wedding, her entire life had been handed to her on a silver platter. Literally. Still, something about this woman put Caroline at ease, and she trusted her judgment enough to make the decision to speak out.

  “You’re right. The guards are the ones who want to hurt us.”

  The young woman stepped under the single light in the room, throwing her scars into such stark contrast Caroline almost flinched. But not from disgust, from recognizing the kind of pain the woman must’ve suffered.

  As if reading her mind, the woman touched her face, almost absentmindedly. “Those animals are not good. They destroy anyone and anything that they want without consequence.”

  Caroline thought back to that heaping pile of bodies and the rotting stench. “They are the ones responsible for the bodies in that building, aren’t they?” she asked without thinking.

  “Yes, they are responsible for that and so much more.” The woman’s fingers lingered on her face and followed the line of scars that continued down her neck and disappeared into her gown.

  Aware of Caroline’s appraisal, the woman said, “Yes, they did this, right before they murdered my entire family.” Her voice was at once hard and haunted. “Your husband, he was injured trying to defend you?”

  It was all she could do to nod her agreement, knowing the young woman was asking if Reaper had been injured in an attempt to save her from being raped and tortured. It was close enough to being true.

  The young woman’s gaze finally turned to Reaper. After a long measured look, she said, “I will see to your injuries first and then I shall treat your wife. But we must move quickly. The guards constantly patrol the halls, looking for their next victim.”

  “I’m fine. Just help him, please.” Caroline dug her fingers into Reaper’s abdomen, almost too afraid to believe the girl’s story. But the woman’s eyes and voice and bearing all spoke to the truth of her words.

  “Lie back on the table. Let me inspect your wound,” The woman moved forward, forcing Reaper to lie back on the paper-lined examination table behind him.

  Caroline was immediately at his side. “Thank you, thank you so much. If there’s anything we could ever do to repay your kindness …”

  “Did you kill them?” she said softly.

  Reaper answered just as softly, “I did.”

  “Did you make them suffer?”

  Reaper once more answered, “I did.”

  “Then that is payment enough. I need to remove your tunic and inspect your wound.”

  “Go ahead.” Reaper lay back on the table, his face even paler than before.

  The young woman parted his robe and his large, black rifle immediately came into view.

  “We stole it from the guards. Please, we don’t mean any harm,” Caroline said in a rushed voice.

  “Good, one less gun for them to kill children with. It still needs to be removed so that I can do a proper examination.”

  Caroline reached for the gun and Reaper’s hand closed over hers. Deliberately, Caroline unwound his fingers and eased the strap from his good shoulder. “We can trust her.”

  The look in his eyes flashed from doubt to acceptance, and Caroline marveled at how good it felt to know he had faith in her assessment. He nodded.

  “I am not a doctor, but I am a nurse,” the young woman said. “I graduated from Cambridge before returning home to help my village. Do you give your consent for my treatment?”

  Reaper nodded, his expression grim. “Yes, but no pain meds.”

  “Of course. The guards keep those under heavy watch anyway.” The woman pulled a small pair of shears out of a nearby drawer and began cutting away his dirty T-shirt. The material stuck to his shoulder and Reaper hissed when she tried to pull it from his skin.

  Instead of ripping the material like Caroline would’ve done, the nurse carefully eased it back down. “How long ago did this occur?”

  He said, “Twelve hours or more.”

  The nurse clucked her tongue, “you should have come much sooner, the blood has attached your flesh to the material.”

  In the first hint of humor Caroline had ever detected in him, Reaper quirked a small smile and said, “We would’ve been here a long time ago if it hadn’t been for all the men trying to kill us.”

  Caroline gasped and covered her mouth while the nurse just smiled and began prodding the wound once more. “No, I suppose not. I need to know what type of work this is. Pistol? Rifle?”

  “Pistol.”

  She clucked her tongue once more, reminding Caroline of her old nanny turned housekeeper back home. She’d always made that same sound on the rare occasions when Caroline did something naughty, like dump her supper under her bed to keep from eating the greens her father had insisted she eat as a child.

  “We’ll need to treat you for infection. Is the bullet still lodged?”

  “It is,” he said.

  The nurse arched her eyebrows in Caroline’s direction. “And you thought your wife could remove it?”

  It was Caroline’s time to roll her eyes. She didn’t take offense to the woman’s doubtful tone in the least. “He did, despite my reservations.”

  “Of course, he did not listen to you.”

  “Nope,” Caroline said.

  Reaper leaned up from his reclined position. “I didn’t exactly have
much of a choice.”

  The nurse gently eased him back down onto the table. “No, you didn’t,” she said quietly. “Your wife is a very lucky woman. You are blessed to have her. I hope you will have many strong sons.”

  Heat rose to Caroline’s cheeks and she almost ducked before remembering her face was still covered by the scarf. The thought of having sons with Reaper was … enthralling. It was an expansion of her fantasy. Of course, it was just that: a fantasy. It would never come true. Reaper would keep risking his life on missions and Caroline would no doubt return to the sheltered life she’d always lived. But there was no way she was coming back from this unchanged. He’d put a fire in her belly that couldn’t be denied.

  “Look in that cabinet behind you. There is a stack of small towels. Grab one and roll it tightly.”

  Caroline did as the nurse instructed without question.

  “You will need to bite down on that to keep from crying out,” the nurse said to Reaper. “When I pull the bandage, it will be painful and if you scream it will alert the guards.”

  Reaper took the makeshift muzzle from Caroline’s grasp and placed it between his teeth, bearing down like a bulldog on a bone.

  “Hold his hand. A man who has gone to so much trouble to protect you won’t harm you by squeezing too tight.” The nurse began peeling back Reaper’s bandage, and Caroline clutched his free hand, her own grip so tight it cut off the blood from her fingers. Although Reaper gripped her firmly, he didn’t hurt her.

  “On a count of three, be ready. No matter how gentle I am, it’s still going to hurt, but the pain will be over with quickly.” The nurse waited on Reaper to nod, and then she gripped his shirt tightly in her fist and yanked. Reaper’s muffled moan filled the room, but it was mostly held in check by the towel stuffed into his teeth. His body bowed backward off the table and fresh blood poured from his torn-open wound. Without gasping or even hesitating, the nurse grabbed a nearby stack of bandages and began applying pressure to the wound. Reaching out blindly for Caroline’s hand, she said, “Keep the pressure. If you don’t he may bleed out.”