WAR: Intrusion

by Vanessa Kier

  “They’re not certain. She’s in critical condition,” JC said. “Some of those burns were third degree.”

  “This hospital is decent,” Hoss said so only his teammates could hear, “but it’s not equipped to handle large numbers of critical injuries.”

  “Plus,” JC added, “they’re running out of room with all the patients from the other hospital being evacuated here until the bomb squad has cleared the building.”

  They lapsed into thoughtful silence. After a bit, Lachlan indicated to JC and Hoss that they could leave. “I’ll take over watch.”

  Hoss snorted. “No offense, boss, but have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like Tiny Tim could knock you over with a finger.”

  Lachlan responded with his best imitation of the royal stare. But he must really look done in because both Hoss and JC just snickered. Before he could come out with a proper put down, the doors to the operating theater opened and the intern wheeled out a gurney. A few minutes later, Helen and a male nurse stepped into the corridor. Her head was bent as she talked with the shorter nurse, so at first she didn’t see Lachlan. When she straightened and caught sight of him, she ended her conversation and walked toward him.

  That’s when Lachlan noticed the new bruise stretching from her jaw to her temple and the scratches running down her other cheek, the one that David had bruised, onto her neck. Outrage darkened Lachlan’s vision. He heard Helen murmur a dismissal to the nurse, then her hand was on Lachlan’s arm, leading him down the corridor.

  “I’ll explain it to him,” Helen said.

  “No, ma’am. He needs to hear this from us,” Hoss replied, exaggerating his Oklahoman accent.

  Lachlan’s vision swam back into view. Helen had brought them into a small waiting room. Gently, he took her chin in his hand and turned her head so the scratched cheek was to the light. “How did it happen that Dr. Kirk left Layla’s Foundation with nothing more than a few new minor bruises and scrapes on her hands and knees, yet now it appears she’s been assaulted?” He was going to kill whoever had hurt her like this.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking—” Helen began.

  JC talked over her. “Dr. Kirk tried to break up a fight in the ER by jumping into the middle of it.”

  “You did what?” Lachlan roared.

  Helen gave him a sheepish smile. “Two teenage girls got into a fistfight and nearly slammed into Gloria’s stretcher as it passed by the ER. I knew that if they continued fighting, the girls might knock against the next stretcher coming through. So, since I was closest, I tried to break up the fight.” She held up her hands, revealing scraped and bruised knuckles.

  “I’ll say one thing for the doctor here,” JC said. “She can’t fight worth spit, but she’s got guts.”

  “Only a fool gets in the middle of a cat fight,” Hoss agreed. “The doctor gave it her best shot, but those two hellions were dead set on killing one another. They barely noticed the doctor and just kept clawing and biting and punching.”

  “Yeah, trying to stop it by myself wasn’t one of my more brilliant ideas,” Helen admitted. “I’m lucky that when we hit the floor and my hands got crushed underneath someone’s knee that nothing ended up broken.”

  That statement only added fuel to Lachlan’s temper. “And where were you two trained fighters while Hel—while Dr. Kirk was playing the punching bag?” Even knowing the cause of it, the sight of her bloody and swollen cheek made his fingers itch with the need to punish somebody.

  Just like your father.

  He froze. No. He wasn’t. Was he?

  Helen put her hand on Lachlan’s wrist and pulled his arm down, breaking his paralysis. He stepped back and took a shuddering breath.

  Helen gave him a slight frown as she met his eyes. “Hoss was carrying in a stretcher from the ambulance that pulled in behind us with victims from a serious traffic accident. And I jumped into the fight before JC could stop me.”

  JC nodded. “Sorry, Commander. By the time I pulled Dr. Kirk free, she’d already gotten in the way of those killer nails.”

  “Yeah, it took half a dozen people to separate the girls and then both of them had to be sedated,” Hoss added.

  “And people think we have a hero complex,” Lachlan murmured, just low enough for Helen to hear.

  “No, we surgeons have God complexes, haven’t you heard?” Helen winced as a cut on her lip broke open and started bleeding.

  Lachlan touched it lightly with the tip of his finger. “You’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. They’re only minor pains.” She nodded at his arm. “I’m probably in about as much discomfort as you are with that flesh wound.” Their eyes met and held. That odd connection tightened between them.

  “Dr. Kirk. You’re needed down in operating theater three.” The voice of the male nurse broke the spell.

  “I’m coming,” Helen replied. With a brusque nod to Lachlan, she turned and accompanied the nurse down the hall.

  As he and the lads followed, Lachlan thought about how quickly her injuries had sparked his temper. He didn’t know what Helen was to him, exactly. All he knew was that she’d become more important to him than he’d ever expected.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BY THE TIME Helen walked through the door of the safe house it was nearing midnight. With exhaustion dragging at her, she stumbled into the shower. Yet the lukewarm water—the safe house didn’t have a water heater—revived her instead of relaxing her. Still, knowing her body needed rest, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. But her mind kept zinging through the day’s events like a ball in a pinball machine. Maybe if she’d had any tears left she could have cried herself to sleep, but even the news they’d received as they’d been leaving the hospital that Gloria had died had failed to conjure any more tears. Helen’s heart just couldn’t hold any more sorrow.

  Finally giving up, she pulled shorts on under her t-shirt and let herself out of the room as quietly as possible so as not to wake Lachlan sleeping on the couch in the main room. Crossing to the kitchen, she wished there was a door to close as she filled the kettle with water for tea.

  “Can’t sleep lass?” Lachlan’s sleep-deepened voice asked.

  “It’s always difficult for me to sleep after a crisis-filled day,” she answered, setting the kettle on the electric burner without looking at him. “Over the years I’ve experimented with a variety of ways to relax, including meditation and applying pressure to specific acupressure points, but I’ve learned that once I reach a certain level of alertness, there’s nothing to do but drink some tea and wait for my mind to finish processing the day’s events.”

  She set her tea bag in a mug, but even though she’d been expecting it, when the kettle whistled, she jumped.

  “You are rather tense, doctor,” Lachlan commented as he stepped into the kitchen. To her relief, he didn’t try to take over making the tea. She needed the mundane tasks to act as a counterpoint to her racing mind. Yet her hand shook so strongly while pouring the hot water that Lachlan pulled the kettle away from her. She ended up pacing the small room while he set a bag in the bottom of a second cup and let both cups steep.

  “I don’t suppose you have any Scotch with you?” she asked, only half joking. “They want me back at the hospital in the morning, but I’ll be useless to them without some sleep.”

  “No, sorry lass.” He rummaged in the cupboards, then shook his head. “No alcohol at all.”

  She plopped into a chair. “That’s all right. I don’t really want to start a habit of relying on alcohol to calm me down. I’ve seen too many surgeons over here try to self-medicate themselves. They only end up burning out sooner than they would have otherwise. Besides,” she said with a shrug, “I’m pretty much a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, anyway.”

  “Is that right?” Lachlan placed the cups on the table and sat down across from her.

  Once again she found her knees bracketed between his thighs under the tiny table. Her body flushed. She liked havi
ng him physically close to her, even knowing that their differing ethics would eventually drive them apart.

  Despite having witnessed him kill Gloria’s son, part of her still took comfort in his presence.

  She opened her mouth, intending to say something innocuous, but what came out was “How do you come down after the adrenaline rush of battle? How do you return to normal after witnessing violent death?” Startled by how desperately she needed an answer, she took a quick sip of her tea.

  “There’s no secret formula,” Lachlan said. “We each learn to deal with the aftermath in our own way. Some turn to sex, some use drugs or alcohol. Others use physical exertion—running or lifting heavy weights—to exhaust them. But you’re never rid of the memories. The best you can do is learn to deal with them and vow to live your life to the fullest because you were lucky enough to survive.”

  He looked shocked by that revelation and dropped his gaze to his tea.

  “I know what you mean,” Helen murmured. “Working in a trauma center taught me that life is both precious and precarious. It’s exhilarating and rewarding and yet…” She drank the last of her tea while she struggled to put into words something she’d never felt as strongly as she did tonight. “Yet somehow I feel as if life is passing me by. As if I’m missing something by spending all my time locked away in sterile hospital rooms with only artificial light.”

  Lachlan nodded encouragingly.

  “I resented Gloria when she pulled me off my last assignment and sent me to run the clinic. After all, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should I be forced to stop doing the work I loved just because of some aggressive reporter?” She took a deep breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out sounding like a criticism of Gloria. I understand that she only wanted to protect the Foundation’s reputation. My point was that it had been so long since my early medical school days that I had to brush up on general practice medicine. I missed the rush of trauma work and couldn’t wait to get the grand opening over with so I could get back to the action.” She gave a shaky laugh that nearly became a hysterical giggle. “But after what I’ve been through these past few days, I miss the slow rhythm of my days at the clinic. The work wasn’t as exciting as trauma work, but I felt a sense of community that I haven’t felt since I left my father’s clinic in the middle of the jungle in the Republic of Dahomey to head off to college.” Oddly, it was the memory of how that village had welcomed her thirteen-year-old self with open arms that brought the tears forth again.

  “With these attacks, it’s the first time you’ve lost people you’ve loved to the rebels’ violence?” Lachlan asked. He took her hands between his and rubbed.

  “Yes. Normally I don’t know the people I operate on. Depending on their wounds, I might never even see their faces. When there’s no emotional attachment, if the patient doesn’t survive I still feel regret and sorrow, but it passes relatively quickly. I wouldn’t be able to do my job if each patient’s death really hurt me.” She tried to pull her hands away, uncomfortable at the intimacy.

  No. The truth was that she felt too comfortable with the intimacy. She couldn’t let him slip under her guard like this. So what if she was hurting and tired and just wanted to enjoy having someone tend to her for change? She tugged harder until he finally released her. “But tonight the grief feels alive inside me, as if it’s a beast alternately clawing to get out or squeezing my lungs until I can’t breathe.”

  “Shh… It will fade. Give it time.”

  “I don’t have time. I’m needed now.” She met his eyes. “Only habit and the numbness of shock lingering from today’s attack allowed me to get through this afternoon’s surgeries. As the evening progressed, the numbness wore off. My hands started trembling and my vision pulsed in and out. One of the nurses saw that I was having trouble, removed the scalpel from my hand, and walked me out of the room. He told me to get some rest before I hurt someone.”

  Her breath hitched. “I know that emotional trauma can’t be dealt with in so short a time, but I have to find a way to push my emotions aside until the medical urgency isn’t so great. But none of my techniques are working!”

  She searched Lachlan’s face, hoping she’d find the answer there. This panicked pressure in her chest said that if she didn’t find a solution, and fast, everything would fall apart. And it would be her fault. “I can’t work like this, always afraid of who’s going to be hurt next. Not knowing whether or not I’ll live until the end of the day. Or if I’ll ever see you again.”

  Her words hung between them, shiny as a newly forged link of chain.

  Tension built until it was a tangible force pressing against her and making her skin too hot and too tight.

  On a low groan, Lachlan yanked her out of her chair. His lips took hers in a fierce kiss and his arms banded tightly around her.

  Helen tunneled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as their lips nipped at one another and their tongues dueled. Heart pounding, she hardly noticed the two of them shifting position until her back hit the wall. She moaned as Lachlan’s lips left hers to trail heat down her throat to the collar of her t-shirt. While he nibbled the skin there, she slid her hands underneath his shorts to grip his buttocks and pull his hips fully against hers.

  With the same lack of patience she felt, Lachlan shoved her shirt out of his way and fastened his lips onto one taut nipple. Heat shot to her core with unrelenting violence. It wasn’t fair that of all the men she’d been with, Lachlan should be able to set her on fire so quickly. Already she felt as if her skin couldn’t contain this heat any longer. She tossed her head from side to side as Lachlan’s mouth moved to her other breast. Her fingers clenched on his buttocks as he suckled her hard, as if by doing so he could pull out her remaining doubts and reservations while leaving behind this inferno that threatened to destroy her.

  Her hips shoved against his in an attempt to relieve some of the heat. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her sensitive nipple. When he raised his head, she narrowed her eyes at him. Giving her a sensual smile, he shoved her sleep shorts and panties down her legs, moving away from her just long enough for her to step out of them. Then he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat, sending another blast of heat across over-stimulated nerve endings at the same time he pressed his thumb against her clit.

  “No.” She grabbed his hand. “Not coming…until you’re…inside me…” For some reason, taking that small measure of control seemed immensely important. As if, when the conflagration hit, she’d somehow weather it better if she wasn’t flying solo. So she clenched her thighs to stop the wave of pleasure that threatened to crest and shoved Lachlan away from her. “Lose the pants. I want you on the bed.” She jerked her head toward the bedroom.

  He raised his brows, then with a wickedly slow smile, backed out of the kitchen. Once he was inside the bedroom, he slid off his pants and underwear and stretched out on his back on the bed. Her mouth watered and her hands itched with her earlier need to map his body. To learn all the hard contours of this warrior who had the strength to survive in this violent world she’d been thrust into. As if her touch could transfer some of that much needed strength to her.

  No! She had to keep this about the physical connection only. She grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it onto his straining erection. To her credit, her hands only wandered a little bit, stroking and petting him as she worked, then moving down to fondle his balls. He growled low in his throat, but she continued teasing him until she was satisfied that he was in the same sensual hell she inhabited.

  She straddled him. His eyes darkened with desire as she positioned him at her entrance and sank down on him in frustratingly slow increments. She told herself to look away, but his gaze captured hers. As their bodies joined, instead of the fast, hard coupling she’d intended, the moment turned into something much more intimate. Too late, she realized that she’d made a mistake. She should have insisted he take her from behind, so she could pretend
this was only about sex.

  Against her will, she fell into his eyes, feeling as if she touched his soul. Worse, as she fully seated herself on him and stared down at him, she sensed that those piercing gray eyes had reached all the way to the protective wall surrounding her own soul. Frightened that she might weaken and let him all the way in, she tried again to look away. As if sensing her attempt to deny their connection, Lachlan slid his hands up her hips to settle gently at her waist.

  Unable to break from his gaze, she began a slow rhythm, lifting and then sinking as he murmured words of encouragement. Even when part of her screamed at her to disengage, to climb off this bed and run far, far away, she found herself picking up the pace instead. As her tempo increased and Lachlan’s fingers tightened on her hips, she continued to hold his gaze. Trapped, yet oddly safe at the same time.

  When the inferno finally erupted inside her, she closed her eyes, crying out as her soul was torn free and flung to the heavens. And when the storm had passed, leaving her limp, Lachlan’s hands were there, supporting her even as he reached his own climax. Unable to resist, she opened her eyes and watched him as he came, this beautiful male animal who held such power over her.

  When at last he sagged back into the mattress, she made no protest when he pulled her down to lie on his chest.

  As she drifted off into sleep, her final thought was that now she’d never be free of him, because chains forged in fire were unbreakable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Republic of Dahomey

  West Africa

  “I NO LONGER have confidence in your capability to become the central leader of the rebellion,” the voice of Natchaba’s sponsor said over the telephone.

  Natchaba stared across the room to the regional map on his office wall. He, too, had heard the rumors spreading through the rebel community. How he was so weak that his men could not manage to kill one puny doctor and some injured villagers. What no one understood, and what he refused to share with his mysterious sponsor, was that he had assigned each attack to a different group.