by Vanessa Kier
Smirking, the boy pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it toward Helen. Then he grabbed Gloria and ran back down the hall.
Lachlan fired at the boy, hitting him in the back. Then he shoved Helen into the office and slammed the door shut behind him. “Under the desk,” he ordered, pulling Helen sideways from the door. She’d only taken a few steps when there was an explosion in the hall. The door to the office blew open as Helen dove behind the desk.
Mrs. N’Dorah had already crawled into the desk’s bay and Helen scooted inside with her. When Helen’s ears had cleared, she called, “Lachlan?”
“Here, lass. Stay put while I check to make certain there are no other attackers.”
“Okay.” A moment later she heard his feet crunch over debris. When his voice barked “Where the fuck are the police?” she realized that he must be on his sat phone.
“I thought they had a guard on this building,” Lachlan continued. “We just suffered two attacks.” His voice faded down the hall.
Helen fought back panic over his absence, afraid there’d be another explosion and this time Lachlan would die. But he wasn’t gone long. When he returned, he was still on the phone. He motioned for them to follow him.
Helen crawled out from under the desk and helped Mrs. N’Dorah to her feet then they picked their way through the burning debris that lay scattered across the carpet. Out in the hall, Helen saw that the explosion had set fire to the wood floor and blown out part of the conference room’s wall. Smoke filled the corridor.
A few feet to Helen’s left, Gloria lay facedown next to her son. A great deal of her clothing had been burned away. Helen dashed over to her.
“She has a faint pulse.” Helen glanced toward Lachlan. “Where can we move her to?”
Lachlan poked his head inside Gloria’s office and jerked his chin toward the interior. Mrs. N’Dorah helped Helen move Gloria, while Lachlan took up guard position at the end of the hall. Then Helen walked back down the hall to check on Gloria’s son. But Lachlan’s shots really had killed him.
Helen briefly closed her eyes. Everything had happened so fast, but surely there’d been some way for Lachlan to stop the boy without killing him? He’d been running away, after all. Couldn’t Lachlan have shot him somewhere less lethal?
Pain filled her chest. She didn’t know how her heart had room for all of this sorrow. Gloria had moved here from El Salvador after she’d married a West African man she’d met while he’d been on a business trip. He’d died of heart failure not long after she got pregnant and she’d raised her son alone. This was the first time Helen had seen the boy. She wondered what had happened to make him glare at her the way he had. Had Gloria known he’d joined the rebels?
She glanced toward the office where they’d moved Gloria. Had this attack been planned using information her son had gained after visiting Gloria at work?
Knowing that she’d probably never learn the answer to that question, Helen turned and went back into the office. As she reached the door, she heard Lachlan say to the person on the other end of the phone “We need the exterior secured so the ambulance can drive up without fear of being shot at.”
Shot at? Was there another attacker outside? Helen glanced at Lachlan, but he was too intent on his conversation to notice.
Confident that he’d make certain she and the others could leave safely when the time came, Helen stepped into the office. Kneeling down, she checked Gloria over. About sixty percent of her body was covered with severe burns. A few pieces of hot metal from the device had embedded themselves in her. “We need to cool her burns,” Helen said to Mrs. N’Dorah. She cursed herself for not bringing her medical kit. But then, even though Lachlan had explained that the Foundation might be a target, she hadn’t expected to need it. She’d never imagined that there would really be another attack this soon after the others.
While Mrs. N’Dorah stayed with Gloria, Helen headed for the kitchen to fetch the Foundation’s first aid kit, cool water, and towels, but she came to a halt at the door to the receptionist’s area. Bile rose in her throat at the sight of Ekuwa sprawled dead behind her desk.
Realizing that the scene needed to be processed by the authorities didn’t make it any easier to walk past the body without closing the woman’s eyes or without rearranging her limbs into a more dignified position.
My duty is to the living.
Right.
It took only a few minutes to soak the towels, grab the first aid kit, and return to the office. Once she’d cleaned and bandaged the worst of Gloria’s wounds, she placed the cool, wet towels over the burns. “That’s all I can do for now,” she said. “The team at the hospital will need to remove the shards in her back.”
“She’ll not be going to hospital,” Lachlan said from the doorway, pocketing his phone. “At least not the one we visited this afternoon. They’ve also been attacked.”
The room spun. Helen lost track of time for a moment. When she regained her senses, she found herself being supported by Mrs. N’Dorah. Lachlan knelt in front of her, a worried frown on his face. She wanted to reach out and touch his face to reassure him that she was fine, but she didn’t have the strength and the room was still shimmying. “The villagers?” she croaked.
“Fine. After our warning about the nurse, they were moved to a different floor. Their previous ward bore the brunt of the attack. But the hospital has been evacuated and all patients are being sent to other facilities while the bomb squad checks for other explosives.” He nodded toward Gloria. “The authorities are attempting to secure the exterior of our building. Once it’s safe to leave, the other hospital is a half-hour drive. Will she last that long?”
Helen shrugged. Her equilibrium had stabilized, so she gently extricated herself from Mrs. N’Dorah with a grateful smile and let Lachlan help her to her feet. “I don’t know. The faster we get her to a hospital and started on fluids, the better.”
Not certain she could handle the answer, she asked, “Are there any more injured I need to check?” She couldn’t remember how many people had been working in the office today.
“No other staff, but…” Lachlan grimaced. “I did leave one of the attackers alive.”
“For questioning,” she said bitterly.
He met her eyes without remorse. “Aye.”
Helen sighed. “Show me.” She had no doubt that “alive” meant seriously wounded.
While Mrs. N’Dorah stayed with Gloria, Helen followed Lachlan into the library, wincing as she stepped over the dead body of a young man. The other man had been bound and gagged and was rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face. He stared at her with mingled hope and fear. But he scooted back when he saw Lachlan.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded quietly. She took a step toward the boy but Lachlan stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Still thinking of me as a cold-blooded torturer, doctor?”
She gave him a sharp glance.
“I shot him to stop him from escaping,” Lachlan said. “There was imminent threat to your life and the lives of the other women, so I used a bit of force in order to get him to answer my questions.” Lachlan stared down at her, no expression at all in his eyes. “Would it have offended your sensibilities less if I’d killed the lad instead of leaving him alive for interrogation?”
She stiffened. “I never suggested that you enjoyed hurting people, Lachlan. And I understand that you need information on who planned this attack and if there are more threats waiting for us outside. But I’m not going to apologize because it bothers me to see this boy so terrified of you and so obviously in pain. For God’s sake, I’m a doctor. My entire life is dedicated to healing people so they’ll be free of pain. Now, will you please let me go so I can check if there’s anything I can do for him?”
Lachlan pulled away as if she’d burned him and stepped back. “As you command, doctor.”
Biting back a rude comment, she knelt beside the boy while Lachlan positioned himself at the do
or where he could watch the entrance into the receptionist’s area. It took a few reassurances from her in one of the most common dialects before the boy calmed down enough to let her examine his wounds. She didn’t know whether Lachlan was a good enough shot to have hit places that didn’t result in critical bleeding, or whether it was luck. Regardless, there was little she could do beside clean and bandage the wounds. The boy regarded her with such a mix of hatred and hope that her hands shook. He was so young, she couldn’t stop feeling sorry for him and wished she could tear off his gag. That wasn’t medically necessary, though, so she decided to trust Lachlan’s reasons for gagging him.
“All right. I’ve done all I can.” She stood up and peeled off her gloves. “What now?”
Lachlan glanced at the boy and shook his head. It wasn’t until she’d followed him down the hall that he spoke. “My team just returned from their mission. They’ll be joining the police in securing the exterior.”
“They really have more shooters stationed outside? To kill people as they leave the building?” She’d been so focused on her immediate surroundings during the festival attack that she hadn’t realized there’d been snipers shooting at the fleeing attendees and bombs set to go off at the exit as people had fled the scene. This sounded like a similar situation.
“Not just as they leave.” He nudged open what was left of the conference room door. Broken glass littered the scorched floor and bullets had chewed up the walls. “They knew you were here and assumed you’d hold your meeting in the conference room.”
“One of us might have been killed if we’d been in here. Or been caught by the flames.” She turned to Lachlan. “Thank you for insisting that we hold the meeting in a room with no windows. I thought you were being overprotective, but you were right.”
He gave her a brusque nod. Was he still miffed by her sympathy for the rebel boy? Too bad. She wasn’t about to apologize for who she was. Regret dragged at her as she returned to the office where Mrs. N’Dorah kept vigil by Gloria. It would have been nice to be able to lean on Lachlan for just a little bit. To feel his arms around her while she struggled to accept that her world did not show signs of calming down any time soon.
But she and Lachlan couldn’t seem to put aside their differences long enough to fully explore what she’d hoped were tentative bonds of friendship.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LACHLAN WATCHED THE police carry out the body bag with Gloria’s son in it. Men from the crime scene team were still processing the area, but Lachlan’s part here was done. He glanced around the office. Where was Helen? He frowned and stepped into the corridor. When he didn’t find her in the offices or the reception area, his heart punched into his throat. Where the bloody hell was she?
Dev was talking to the head of the police team, but spotting Lachlan, he broke away and strode over.
“Where’s Helen? God dammit I told you to keep an eye on her. If—”
“Lachlan,” Dev snapped. “Calm the fuck down. She accompanied her injured coworker to the hospital. JC and Hoss are with her.” He met Lachlan’s stare with a level gaze. “Did you really think we’d let the doctor leave without bodyguards? You should know better than that.”
Lachlan blew out a breath and ran a hand over his hair. “Aye, you’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I know you wouldn’t put her life at risk.”
Dev nodded in acceptance. “The lady doctor really has you turned about, doesn’t she?”
Lachlan gave a grim smile. “That’s not the half of it.” Only part of his distraction came from worry over Helen. The rest stemmed from his reaction to what Helen had said earlier. “I never suggested that you enjoyed hurting people, Lachlan.”
She’d hit too close to one of his own fears. He’d often asked himself if he went into the military because it was in his genes to hurt others and fighting his country’s enemies was a legitimate way to do that. And yet, he hadn’t consciously taken pleasure in scaring the young rebel today. Or when he’d hurt David’s prisoner. Surely, if he’d inherited his father’s enjoyment of inflicting pain he’d be more aware of it. Wouldn’t he?
“Commander?” Dev’s tone indicated that he’d been trying to get Lachlan’s attention for a while.
Lachlan shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Sorry. What?”
Dev nodded at the police officer waiting patiently with Mrs. N’Dorah. “He wants to know if you’re ready to accompany him down to the station to give your statement.”
“We also have the copies of your sketches for distribution,” the officer said.
Lachlan nodded. “Excellent. Let’s go.” He gestured for Mrs. N’Dorah to precede him out the door into the main corridor and down the stairs. But instead of leading them out the front door of the building, the officer turned down another hallway that headed to the back. Lachlan glanced out the window and saw that the police had cordoned off the area at the front of the building. Behind the barricades, two groups shouted at each other. One side chanted anti-foreigner rhetoric and blamed today’s attack on Layla’s Foundation having foreign employees. Mrs. N’Dorah muttered something angrily in one of the local dialects and moved toward the door.
Lachlan stepped in front of her. “Don’t give them a target,” he said. “Listen to what the other group out there is saying. They’re defending your foundation because it’s owned and run by a West African. Let the two groups fight it out.” He deliberately didn’t mention the television cameras and eager reporters vying to get closest to the two groups. He hoped she hadn’t noticed.
Mrs. N’Dorah vibrated with outrage, but finally lifted her chin and turned toward the police officer. “If there is one false word printed about my organization in any of the papers tomorrow, I will hold you and your office accountable.” Then she swept past him with all the dignity of a queen.
The officer stared after her with a dazed look on his face.
Lachlan clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy and followed her to the back door.
Yet the incident only increased his worry over Helen. JC and Hoss would be able to protect her against a physical threat, but what about a nosy reporter with a telephoto lens? The last thing she needed was to have someone bring up her past. Not when Helen was already reeling from all that had happened the past few days. And not when she herself had so recently dredged up her emotions regarding her mother.
After the police finished their questioning, Lachlan sent the copy of the sketch to WAR, then waited with Mrs. N’Dorah until her family came to retrieve her and her police escort had arrived. Only then did Lachlan head to the hospital to find Helen. It was a testimony to how often he’d been in medical facilities recently that he scarcely flinched as he passed through the doors.
The uneasy glances Hoss and JC gave one another when Lachlan strode down the corridor of the surgical ward was the first sign that something had gone wrong.
“Where’s Helen?” he demanded.
JC nodded to the closed doors of the operating theater. “She’s treating a patient. One of those large passenger buses that keeps the livestock up top with the luggage tipped over in the middle of the city. The hospital received a large influx of casualties just as the evacuees from the other hospital arrived. The head surgeon here is familiar with Dr. Kirk’s work and begged her to help out.”
“Aye. I’m certain Dr. Kirk jumped at the chance to assist.” Still, while he understood that her work ethic wouldn’t let her turn her back on those in need, Lachlan worried about her. Even though she hadn’t suffered any major wounds from the attack, she needed time to de-stress.
He pulled out copies of the sketch and handed one to each man. “Here’s the image of Natchaba. He looks familiar to me, but we haven’t been able to match him to photos of known rebels.”
Both men studied the image. “You’re right,” JC said. “He reminds me of someone, but I don’t know who. Hoss?”
“I’ve got nothing. Sorry.”
“No worries. We’ll find him,” Lachlan said. “
Hopefully before he strikes again.”
“You’re sure he’s behind today’s attack?” Hoss asked.
“Aye. When I rang Kris to let him know that I’d faxed over the sketch, he mentioned that the rebel network was buzzing with the news. No one is using Natchaba’s name, but apparently an argument broke out between two factions. One that supports this new, great leader and others who state that whoever planned the recent attacks clearly is undeserving of their loyalty because none of his attacks have succeeded to the extent he’d promised. The non-supporters have offered to take care of Dr. Kirk and the other survivors the way it should have been done.”
“Ouch,” Hoss murmured.
“Nothing like wounding a man’s pride to cause him to lash out with renewed force,” JC said.
Lachlan nodded. “He miscalculated on the festival attack and didn’t have enough men in place to stop Tony and myself from disrupting his plans. The full-on attack against the villages is understandable as a follow-up. He needed to show that he had the capability for utter destruction. Yet his attack against the regional capital failed to kill the regional governor or the surviving villagers at the hospital.”
“So maybe he doesn’t have the military might, or even the tactical knowledge, to conduct a successful attack in an area protected by organized opposition forces,” JC suggested.
Lachlan nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing.
“How did Natchaba learn that Dr. Kirk survived? And that she’d be at the Foundation’s offices today?” Hoss asked.
Lachlan explained about the rebel sympathizer nurse. “She might have notified Natchaba that Helen was in town. It would be natural to then assume Helen would visit the office at some point. Or perhaps Gloria’s son was the informant. He carried enough hatred that he was willing to risk his mother’s life in order to hurt Helen.”
“Now that’s just wrong,” Hoss murmured.
“Is Gloria going to live?” Lachlan asked.
