“You still with me?”
He murmured a response, turning his head slightly so he could see her. The stark beauty of his profile, despite the bruises, struck her again. The lines of his face were chiseled, unforgiving. The kind of man she’d glance at twice if she passed him on the street.
A man associated with a criminal.
“Still here, Doc. What are you waiting for?” Husky with pain, his deep voice brought her out of her thoughts.
She gave herself a mental shake. “Want something to bite down on?”
A small, wry smile touched his lips and his lids closed. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Just fix me, Doc.”
“I can hit you so you’ll sleep through it,” she muttered.
That drew a low chuckle from him. She didn’t expect him to have a sense of humor. He seemed too…hard. His chuckle turned into a grunt of pain.
“You probably hit like a girl.”
Alana grinned. “Yes, I do. Rest assured it won’t feel like it.”
“Appreciate the offer, but, no.” His words slurred together, his muscles tense as he fought his body’s demands.
“You got a name, Superman?”
His head rolled to the side, his chest rose and fell slowly. She thought he was out but he murmured, “Cristian.”
“Nice to meet you, Cristian.”
Then she dug into the wound for the bullet.
Chapter 3
“What do you mean, you lost him?”
Not a man accustomed to losing, Gavin Ross stared at the dark skinned man standing in front of him. The news wasn’t what he wanted to hear. A man like Slade on the loose was a dangerous thing.
“But you picked up a blood trail?”
His second in command looked away and Gavin’s gut clenched. “Well, he couldn’t have gone far. The island isn’t big and he’s wounded. Search every inch until you find him. Then bring him to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gavin heard the man walk away and stopped him. “Jose, make sure he doesn’t make it to Alana.” He didn’t need her saving the bastard.
“Yes, sir.”
The door closed. He stared blankly out the windows of his office. He had no desire to leave this beautiful island. But he had known his safe little world would eventually be breached. No one did what he did and got away with it for long. An alphabet soup of government agencies was after him and he’d successfully avoided all of them for years. The fact one of them resorted to sending in a mercenary spooked him.
Soon, he would be a very rich man and he’d disappear again. Find another remote island to buy and start all over. He only needed patience, a quality he possessed in spades, because good things really did come to those who waited. Another three months and the beautiful, talented young doctor would become his. They had a deal. And he looked forward to collecting.
Alana would come with him when he relocated. He’d allowed her to put him off for this long, knowing she would never be truly happy until she saved every last person of that damned tribe she called family. He’d wanted to get rid of them to avoid witnesses after he bought the island, but she’d boldly knocked on his door and pleaded for the tribe, anxious to make arrangements for them to share the island. He’d been unable to deny her anything, been so enamored by the possibilities of the perfect woman who stood before him, that he’d granted her six months.
A beautiful woman, graceful, slender, with hands that performed miracles. He’d seen her work and she was steady as a rock. And just as stubborn. He would never admit the power she had over him, but he hadn’t hidden his intentions with her. Thus far, she’d put off his advances in the name of morality and he allowed it. A first for him. As long as he hid the truth of the hold she had on him, things would go as planned.
Slade might find his way across the mountain to the camp she resided in, but the chances were slim. If he made it, Alana would go to lengths to save his life. Her ethics, both professionally and personally, were commendable, but problematic. Gavin needed her hardened, not soft and full of fanciful ideals. The life they would have together left no room for such notions. She must know she played by his rules now. He’d spared that damn tribe for her.
He smiled. Oh, yes, she would have her glory using those competent, steady hands. Just not in the way she’d planned. He would put them to good use to become an even richer man. Not only in the monetary sense.
The mercenary could be the glitch in his plan. He couldn’t let the bastard get to her. The island was treacherous for those who knew it. A stranger would never make it across. Especially not in his condition.
No man was that good.
Not even one running for his life.
A knock sounded on the door. At his command, Jose poked his head in. “Sir, Dr. Kwei is ready for you.”
His spirits lifted. Kwei didn’t know it yet, but in three months he would have a partner. Kwei wouldn’t be happy--he preferred to work alone and vetted his earnings to his family in Africa. But since Gavin was the boss, Kwei would do as told. A skilled surgeon, Dr. Kwei didn’t raise too much fuss as long as Gavin left him alone to do his work. Gavin had no problem with that. Their partnership suited both their needs. The addition of Alana would only make things more profitable.
With Alana at his side, the possibilities were endless. He could double the workload, harvest more, and triple the profits. Not to mention, he’d have the woman of his dreams, sharing his life and his bed.
“Well, by all means,” he said and followed Jose out the door. “Let’s get started.”
* * * *
Alana walked out of the church and dropped down on the eroded cement step like always when she finished working. Through dry, gritty eyes she watched the tribeswomen prepare the afternoon meal while some of the men hunted and others tended the fire always burning in the center of the small village. Children played, laughing, with a makeshift kickball in the distance, drawing a smile from her. Life was so simple here. These people knew the meaning of happiness and it wasn’t money or prestige, fancy cars, or million dollar mansions. Not vanity and impressing your friends. It was about survival, accepting the gifts given, and being thankful for the small bounties life provided.
At one time in her life, she’d thought she had it all figured out. A brilliant protegee and the apple of her parents’ eye. She’d wanted for nothing. In the States, where diseases were easily cured, never had she feared she might go hungry or lose a family member.
She didn’t covet the life she’d given up often. Sometimes, yes, she missed Godiva chocolates, silk sheets and a shower, but not enough to make her go back. Her life here was much more rewarding and couldn’t be traded for creature comforts. The people were real, honest, and they would never turn on her. They were her family. She would miss them terribly in three months when Gavin forced her to uphold her end of their painful bargain.
Even when she and her father had arrived as outsiders, the tribe accepted them and allowed them to become part of them. Not just as doctors, but as family. A rare gift. One she would never forget. She would need her memories to get her through the deal she’d made with Gavin. As a woman of her word, she wouldn’t renege. She would fight like hell to change it.
Alana crossed her arms over her midsection to ward off the ache deep inside for what she would lose and could never have again. Gavin Ross had made sure of that.
“You look tired, senorita. You have worked hard to save the forastero. He is doing well?”
Alana looked up at the young mother who nursed her child. By now they all knew she had brought a wounded stranger to camp. They understood her reasons, but feared outsiders. Especially a man wearing one of Gavin Ross’s guard uniforms.
“Si, he is doing well. How is the bebe?” She motioned toward the child.
The young mother smiled and gently caressed her daughter’s face. “She is a strong one.”
Alana smiled at the tiny, dark skinned child. “She’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“Senorit
a O’Grady! You must come!”
The alarm in Leya’s voice had Alana on her feet. She bid goodbye to the mother and rushed inside the church. Cristian thrashed around the narrow operating table, muttering incoherently. He kicked over a tray of supplies when she walked in, scattering gloves and cotton balls all over the floor.
“What happened?” Alana threw herself over her patient to keep him on the table. “He’s burning up. Damn it. Get me--”
Leya was already filling a syringe.
Cristian twisted violently and dragged her over him. “No needles,” he growled and clamped a hand around her neck. His face contorted into a mask of pain and fury, alarming Alana for the second time since she’d brought him there.
Pain burned through her throat as his fingers tightened ruthlessly.
Leya stared wide eyed at them, hands poised midair. When she took a step toward them, Alana held up a finger to stop her. Leya stopped short, looking to her for instruction, genuinely scared--her body trembled. “What do I do?” she whispered.
Alana could only make choking sounds.
“I said no…needles.” With the strength of ten men, Cristian pushed her away from him.
She stumbled back and hit the wall hard enough to take down a shelf of books as she landed hard on the floor. Dazed, she watched five men charge into the small room and latch onto her patient with no small amount of care. They pinned him down to the table while Leya flew to Alana’s side and dropped to her knees on the floor.
“Are you all right, senorita?”
Alana nodded slowly, still in a daze. She saw one of the men fly by and hit the wall, and another take a punch to the jaw.
Shaking her head, Alana rose to her feet. “Get rid of the needles.” She should have done it before. The panic in Cristian’s gaze when she brought him in should have been enough. But she’d stubbornly thought it was a fear she could combat, not a full-blown phobia.
“Stay back,” Leya cried when Alana approached the table on wobbly legs.
She pushed her way to her patient, ignored the orders to stay back. Cristian was her patient and she wouldn’t let them harm him for this. Not for something he couldn’t control.
“Hide the syringe,” she ordered.
Leya scrambled to dispose of it, fear written on her face. Not that she could blame her. Cristian in a rage was terrifying.
Once Leya had disposed of the needle, Alana cupped Cristian’s jaw firmly in her hand and forced his head around. His face was flushed, gaze unfocused, but he stopped fighting when she spoke his name.
“No more needles.” She cleared her throat. “You have my word.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He relaxed into sleep.
Alana let out a slow, shaky breath, her throat on fire, her head pounding. “Get him to my hut,” she said wearily.
The men stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“I can’t treat him here. He’ll get violent every time he opens his eyes. Doesn’t matter if the needles are hidden or not, he won’t trust me as long as he knows they’re here. Please, take him.”
Clearly opposed to the idea, the men picked up her patient and carried him out of the church. They would do as she asked, but they didn’t like it. They knew once she set her mind to something there was no turning back.
Leya pressed a cool cloth to her throat. “Do you think it wise to allow him into your hut?”
The cloth soothed the soreness. “I have no choice. He’s terrified of needles and they’re everywhere. I’ll be fine.”
“You cannot talk, let alone care for a man as violent as that one. He is dangerous, senorita.” Leya’s eyes filled with concern.
Alana shook her head and pressed the cloth to the side of her neck. “No, he’s with fever. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“Alana?”
Her father’s alarmed voice filled the room. Alana tossed the cloth to Leya and pulled her collar up to cover the bruises she could feel forming on her neck.
Her father rushed to her side, his face pale and drawn. When he saw her, he paled even more. “Oh, dear God, Alana, what did he do to you?”
When he pulled her into his arms, Alana wilted. The fear she hadn’t allowed tumbled in and the aches she’d ignored from the long night came on with a vengeance, until she trembled uncontrollably in her father’s arms. He’d always known what she needed, and right now she needed to lean on him.
It took a few minutes to pull herself together, and with one last shuddering breath she pulled away. Her father reluctantly let her go, concern in his eyes as he scanned the annihilated room Leya was trying to put back together.
“He certainly made a mess of things, didn’t he?”
Alana let out a small chuckle, and then winced. “He’s delirious with fever, Dad. I don’t know if we have enough antibiotics to clear the infection.”
“You removed the bullet, I see. The site is infected?”
The bullet lay on the floor, kicked over with the table. “Yes, he wouldn’t let me give him a shot of penicillin and we’re almost out of oral antibiotics.”
Her father nodded, in control again.
“Then do what you can to keep the site clean and dry. Try to get the antibiotics in him however you can. I’m told you’re going to care for him in your hut?”
Alana squared her shoulders. “Yes. He’s terrified of needles and gets violent whenever he sees one. I think it’s best.”
Her father studied her with a frown. “From what I’ve seen he’s a dangerous man, Alana. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I am.”
Being a fair, just man, her father nodded. He had always trusted her judgment, nurtured her independence, taught her to think for herself and make sound decisions. She’d almost lived up to his standards.
“We have to consider the consequences of treating him. Have you thought of that?”
In truth, no, she hadn’t. Her attention had been focused on her patient and saving his life. Not on the consequences of doing so.
“We don’t know the circumstances, Dad. We’re bound to help him. We can’t leave him to die.”
Her father’s frown deepened. “We’re taking a risk keeping him here. We don’t need the trouble, Alana, not with the peace we’ve had.”
“I know, but I don’t see how we can turn him away. That’s not who we are. I’ll handle Gavin Ross if he comes.”
Her father’s expression darkened. “I don’t want you near that man.”
Alana laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, I have a patient to attend to.”
“I’ll post guards outside your door. I don’t trust him, Alana.”
“You trust me, so please don’t worry, Dad. Please.”
He pulled her into his arms for one last hug and said softly, “I do trust you.”
* * * *
The tribal leader waited outside her hut when Alana arrived. It took longer to convince him she was doing the right thing than it had her father. As leader, he had a responsibility to his people and she put them in danger by treating this man. She didn’t blame him for being wary, but he gave her his approval, and warning, before walking away.
Alana hoped it wasn’t ill-placed. She couldn’t bear another failure.
Getting rid of her bodyguards proved even more difficult. After a few minutes of arguing, they shuffled out of her hut and left her alone with her patient. She didn’t miss the angry glances they cast at her neck on the way out. She might not have been born into the tribe, but they protected her as one of their own. When her patient woke up, he owed her a big thank you. She’d saved his ass twice now.
Cristian tossed restlessly on her bed. He flipped onto his back and winced in his sleep.
Alana sighed and walked over to him. She stopped a foot away to stare down at the man who had attacked her. Her neck hurt and her head throbbed where she had hit the wall, but she pushed the discomforts away, knelt beside him and placed a hand on his forehead
.
“You’re burning up,” she murmured. “How am I going to get you to take your medicine?”
In reply, he twisted away from her and groaned when he landed on his infected side. Stubborn, even in delirium. He was going to make a miserable patient.
A wry smile touched her lips. Well, he’d met his match with her. Doctors made the worst patients in the world, so she had him beat hands-down.
Alana rose to her feet and collected the supplies she would need to prepare for battle.
* * * *
The war began that night.
Alana held Cristian’s stubbly jaw with one hand and dropped two tablets onto his tongue with the other. She reached for the water that sat on the workstation she’d set up next to the bed to make things easier. Thus far it hadn’t been too bad. Cristian burned with fever and tossed restlessly in bed, but he hadn’t fought her until now.
Practically lying on top of him, Alana brought the glass to his lips. His skin burned through her clothes. His fever worried her. She had no ice to cool him down and the jungle was hotter than him, offering no relief. The cool cloths she’d covered him with all day did little to help.
“Swallow for me, soldier.” She pressed the rim of the glass to his lips. He bucked beneath her, spilling some of the water down her arm. Alana slid her free hand beneath his head and lifted so she could pour a small amount into his mouth.
The instant the first drop touched his tongue, he went still. With a frown, Alana looked down to find him looking at her. The swelling had gone down above his eye and left it ringed with black bruises.
By the dim light of the lantern, she saw confusion swimming in the icy blue of his eyes, glazed with fever and pain. He reached up and covered her fingers with his, bringing the glass back to his lips.
“Easy there, soldier. Slow down.”
He finished the water and fell back on the pillows, brow furrowed.
Alana set the glass aside and sat up so he could move freely. Not that she’d had much control over him. He was much bigger and stronger than her, even in his condition.
Hard Core (Onyx Group) Page 3
