“I am sorry. I have to go.”
The look in the man’s black eyes made Gavin swallow any other argument and step back as Ilom passed.
“I am taking one of the boats.” Ilom disappeared down the hall.
Gavin cursed again.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Things were already in motion. There could be no rescheduling or canceling. He needed a doctor.
He needed Alana.
With a deep breath, he turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t have three months.
Dammit. Things were not going according to plan. The mercenary was still on the loose. Dr. Kwei was gone. He had a buyer for a kidney who’d put down a hefty payment to have it expedited. He would have to force his hand.
He would deal with the consequences later. Right now, he needed a doctor.
Time to collect on a debt.
* * * *
“There’s a storm rolling in.”
Alana looked from her father to the darkened sky. It was the season. Storms in the rainforest were never mild. They raged, with heavy downpours that flooded the small island. Not like the thunderstorms in Boston. These were unpredictable tropical storms.
“Looks like it. We better batten down the hatches.” She accepted a chunk of papaya he handed to her. They sat on the church steps, shoulder to shoulder. She popped it into her mouth, savoring the sugary flavor. In her lap lay a plate of food for her patient, prepared by the women of the tribe. He’d been out like a light when she left him and since she’d heard his stomach grumble, she’d decided to slip away and find him some food.
“Already being done. How about your patient? How is he fairing?”
“Well. A couple more days and he’ll be strong enough to go.” She hadn’t told her father anything Cristian had shared, apparently on accident. Accident or not, she believed it. He was a man of few words. Unless he spoke tenderly in French to a woman named Mariette.
Squelching those thoughts, Alana accepted another chunk of fruit and bit into it. It troubled her that Cristian was a mercenary. He killed for a living. And it stood to reason that he was here to kill Gavin Ross. Why else would he have shown up on her doorstep beaten and shot? Ross wouldn’t do that to one of his own men. Well, he would with reason. Maybe Cristian had given him a reason. She could see that. The man was the most infuriating she’d ever met.
Honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about him. If he’d come to eliminate Gavin, her troubles were over, but she was in the business of saving people, not condoning murder. As much as she despised Gavin Ross, she wouldn’t be part of this. Her job was to treat her patient. What he did after that was up to him. She had no say once he left her care.
Then there were her feelings for him to complicate matters and cloud her judgment. A mercenary. Not the kind of man she should be attracted to. Not the kind of man she’d expect to make her long for the life Gavin Ross would steal from her.
Sadness settled over her, as it always did when she thought about her future. It had to be done, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She would do it, no doubt, but that didn’t mean she liked it. The thought of becoming Gavin Ross’s lover made her sick.
A shudder worked its way down her spine. Where would she find the strength to get through it? Even for a short time until she found a way out.
“Feeling all right?” Her father wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Alana rested her head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t read her thoughts. “Just tired.” She couldn’t tell him he gave her the strength to get through. To know he would live out his last days in peace and the tribe would forever be safe was all she needed. For them, she would do it. She would live a life with a man she didn’t love.
Traitorous thoughts kicked that thought into left field and reminded her no one had ever made her feel the way Cristian did. No touch had ever ignited a flame inside her like Cristian’s. Never made her want like this. So much, it caused a physical ache every time she looked at him.
She had never been attracted to a man on this level. It went beyond lust. She’d been certain Cristian was going to kiss her after he’d pulled her inside and kicked the door shut. It was unsettling to admit the act turned her on instead of scaring her. Something primal and raw about him made him a danger to her heart.
She’d wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it even now. To feel his hands on her body, taking her places she’d never been. She never probed into the darker side of herself, as Cristian had. It frightened and excited her.
“You sure you’re all right?” her father asked.
She lifted her head. “Fine. Don’t worry about me. I better get this to my patient before he tries to run away again.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Alana shot her father a chiding look. “What kind of doctor would I be if I let that happen?”
Her father smiled. “Not the one I raised you to be.”
Alana smiled and rose to her feet. “Need help securing your hut?”
“No, a couple of the men did it for me earlier. How about you?”
“Nope, all set. See you at dinner?”
She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that brewed inside her as she headed toward her hut. Storms didn’t worry her--she’d been through enough of them to know what to expect--but something ate at her. She just didn’t know what.
She cast a glance over the small village and tried to nail down her unease. Women and children scurried around in preparation of the storm. The men watched over them. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why did she feel so…unsettled?
Dismissing it, she crossed to her hut, breathing the thick, heavy air. A sure sign of bad weather ahead. Thunder rumbled in the distance, confirming it. Dark, heavy clouds filled the sky. Any signs of sunlight that might have made it through the thick canopy faded way.
Alana stopped with her hand on the door to draw in a deep breath. She’d never known rain had a scent, but it did. She smelled it now. The sweet, earthy richness filled her lungs and reminded her how different life was here.
She wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Deal or not, she belonged here.
She pulled open the door and stepped in, prepared to feed her patient, only to find him gone.
Alana glared at the empty room. She’d been gone what? Ten minutes? Fifteen, tops. How did he sneak away so quickly without being seen?
Angry thunder cracked overhead, followed by the first splatter of rain on the thatched roof. That only drove her mood down more.
She set the plate on the table with a thunk and looked around the room, irritated it felt so empty.
“Damn you, Cristian,” she muttered as a gust of wind blew the hut and shook the walls.
She crossed the room and stopped beside the bed, staring down at the sheets. Cool to the touch. He hadn’t been asleep. His tricked worked; she’d fallen for it. Did he really think he could get far in this weather? Injured and weak? He’d be dead by morning, the fool.
She didn’t know what bothered her the most. The fact she hadn’t cleared him to leave or that he put his life in danger and she wasn’t going to get any sleep knowing it.
Rain started to come down in earnest and her tension ratcheted up another notch. How far did Cristian think he would get in weather like this? Didn’t he see the storm clouds when he left? It wasn’t safe to be out in this.
Well, she couldn’t sit around and wonder what happened to him, so she set about cleaning her hut. She stripped the bed, put her spare set of sheets on, and then straightened the rest. Outside the storm raged, building with each second that passed. The Indians knew how to build their homes so they wouldn’t blow down in the strong storms that rocked the island every year.
It didn’t take long to clean the small space. By the time she finished, the storm had hit the camp head on. Wind whistled through the cracks, gusting over the thatched roof. Thunder and lightning put her more on edge. She hoped her patient was smart enough to find adequate shelter for the night.<
br />
Not wanting to be alone, she reached for her hiking boots. A bolt of thunder cracked through the night and made her jump. Lord, she was never this nervous. Just as she bent over to slip on her boots, lightning lit up the sky with a loud boom. She ducked and covered her head as it struck outside her hut.
Hastily she pulled on her boots, grabbed her lantern, and ran through the door. Screams echoed through the darkness.
The fire had gone out and plunged them into inky blackness. Her lantern lit a small stream of light through the night. What it shone on made her heart sink. Across the clearing was a fallen tree. It covered one of the huts.
She gasped as a bolt of lightning flashed across the path and illuminated the devastation in front of her. The center of the hut had caved in, crushed by the weight of the tree.
She broke into a run and joined the people coming out of their homes to see what happened. Before she knew it, she was tearing through what remained of the hut to get inside.
Men tried to push her out of the way, insisted she go back to her own hut. Alana shook her head, sending water droplets in all directions, refusing to leave. They let her stay, but they weren’t happy about it. Right now the family trapped inside beat out their customs.
Rain soaked her within seconds and slicked her clothes like a second skin. Alana ignored it as she put her shoulder to the door and heaved with the men to bust it open. A tree branch jammed it, but they managed to break through.
Without hesitation she burst inside. Rain pounded down on her through the giant hole in the roof. The hut was destroyed. Behind her, men ordered her to stop, wait for them as they tore down the walls to make a bigger opening. Their warnings went unheeded as she looked around with a heavy heart, searching for the two children and their parents.
Something moved to her right. She did a double-take when she saw a hand waving from beneath a tree limb. “Over here!” she shouted and stumbled over debris to get to them. She dropped to her knees on the floor, where one of the children lay beneath a limb, and grabbed her hand.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “Help is on the way.”
The little girl cried for her mother with a death grip on Alana’s hand. The storm raged, but she stayed focused on the girl as the men moved carefully around them.
“Let us get her,” one of them said a few minutes later with a hand on her shoulder.
He helped her to her feet and took over at the girl’s side, reassuring her as three men joined him and began to saw the limb that pinned the girl to the floor.
More shouts came from behind her. Alana spun and wiped wet hair out of her eyes. She saw the girl’s mother being led out, barely standing, but walking on her own, so she joined the search for the husband and son.
She pushed debris and branches out of her way and stumbled toward the trunk, where men dug furiously. The husband and little boy had been pinned beneath the trunk of the tree.
The husband wasn’t breathing.
One of the tribesmen put out an arm to stop her when she lunged at the man. “No,” he said. “He is gone.”
Alana fought against his arm. “I have to be sure.”
His arm lowered, but not without a stream of protests. Alana ignored them and dropped to her knees beside the man. With a shaking hand, she laid two fingers to his neck. When she found no pulse, she cried out in frustration and tried again. She lifted his head into her lap and stared down into his vacant eyes and knew she couldn’t save him. Pain knifed through her chest as her tears mixed with the rain.
Around her, men heaved in unison in effort to remove the tree from the boy who was still pinned. He sobbed for his father. The cries cut through Alana’s heart as she ran a hand over the father’s eyes to close them. Then she turned her attention to the boy and scooted sideways so she could hold his head in her lap. Blood seeped down his face and his terrified eyes looked up into hers with recognition that didn’t register through his panic.
“It’s okay,” she murmured and pressed a hand to the wound to stem the flow. She looked over to see he was pinned from the chest down. Refusing to think about the injuries he’d sustained, she focused on calming him as the men tried to free him.
“We need more,” someone shouted as men grunted with effort. The tree was too big, too heavy.
They needed a miracle.
“I have to help,” she told the boy and gently let him go.
He sobbed quietly now, but nodded.
She rose to her feet and braced a shoulder against the tree. Bark scraped her bare shoulder as she ignored the disapproving looks she received. On their count, she put every ounce of strength she had into moving the tree. She cried out with the effort, every muscle in her body tight with strain.
The tree rocked, but didn’t move.
“God, please,” she cried when they relaxed for another round.
They tried three more times. Each time the tree moved. Not enough to pull the boy free. Alana wanted to cry from the physical strain, in frustration, but instead she used the emotion and dug deep for strength.
Rain made the trunk slippery, their hands scraped raw, but no one complained or gave an inch. After fifteen minutes Alana was exhausted, but determined not to quit.
Again they tried, to no avail.
The boy’s mother sobbed hysterically behind them, the men grunting with effort.
“Again!” she shouted in unison with them and put all she had into saving the boy’s life.
She pushed, cried out in pain and exertion, when suddenly the tree rocked, rolled, and with a unified grunt went over, as if the hand of God had reached down from heaven and moved it Himself.
Surprised as much as relieved, Alana stumbled and looked up. Her eyes met Cristian’s icy blue gaze. He stood half-naked and soaking wet at the base of the tree, hands braced, muscles straining, granite lines of exertion on his chiseled face. Not a flicker of emotion as he met her eyes. Nothing but a cold, hard stare.
Something deep and primal rose inside her and heated her blood. He had come back. Mercenary or not, he’d helped save this boy.
“Hurry.” He shouted to be heard over the murmur of voices and the storm. “It won’t hold long.”
Shaken out of her reverie, Alana jumped into action. “Hold it!” she yelled, dropping down so she could reach for the boy. Grunts and groans followed her down as the men held the tree in place and prevented it from rolling back over.
She spoke to the boy. “Can you move your legs?”
He nodded.
“How about your arms, can you move both of them?”
Another nod.
“Are you ready? I’m going to pull you out at the same time you push toward me. Can you do that?”
“Si.” He sobbed.
“Now, Alana.” Cristian. Urgent.
“Yes, okay.” She grasped the boy beneath the armpits. “Ready. Go. Push!”
Together they pulled him free. He screamed in pain as he tore free. She fell backward with him in tow. Reacting quickly, she snatched him up and scooted back. “Okay, we’re clear.”
On Cristian’s command they eased the tree back into position, but Alana didn’t move fast enough. One of the limbs came down on top of her. She shielded the boy from more harm and took the brunt of it as it scraped down her back.
But it wasn’t there long. The weight lifted and rain hit her. With the boy cradled in her arms she got out of the way, stepping over branches and debris until she was free to run toward the church.
Her father waited anxiously when she got there. He held the door open and ushered her inside. Alana ran straight to the back room and carefully laid the boy on the table. His sobs filled the room and she put a hand on his shoulder to console him.
“I think he broke something when we pulled him out.” She reached for a pair of gloves. “I need to cut his pant leg off.”
Her father already had a pair of scissors. As he began cutting the pant leg, Alana drew up a syringe and used it to calm the boy so they could work. Once he was
out, they went to work setting his leg. They could put it in a cast, but in this environment it wouldn’t heal. They would have to settle for a more primitive cast.
“We have more injuries coming in,” her father said a few minutes later as he handed her a roll of bandages.
She didn’t look up. “Go. I can finish this.”
Her father handed her the rest of the supplies she’d need and went out to help the others who’d been injured in the storm. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 8
In the darkness Slade watched Alana work quickly and efficiently to put her patient back together, much as she had him. The boy trusted her, completely. The thought rocked him. Dangerous to put so much trust in a person.
His eyes traveled over her profile, turned slightly away. She genuinely cared about her work. He could see it written in the lines of her face, in every muscle, as she moved quickly through the paces. There was no pretense with this woman. She was who she claimed.
But why here? She obviously had talent, steady hands and a cool head.
Running from something? Hiding. But what? Or whom?
Slade cursed beneath his breath. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t care. He’d cared once; he wasn’t going to that dark place again.
But something drew his eyes back to the fiery-haired woman bent over a child’s leg, skillfully setting it back in place. He felt like a voyeur.
He couldn’t look away.
He shouldn’t have come back. Should have kept going, kept his eye on the ball. Something had drawn him back, refusing to free him. He hated it, would rip it out of his soul if he could, but he didn’t know what the hell it was.
Yes, he did.
It was her.
A dangerous mistake. He knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been a mile away from camp by time the storm hit and he’d immediately turned back. These people were the three little pigs and the storm the big bad wolf. They lived in shoddy, thatched-roof homes that would never withstand these kinds of torrential tropical rains. And judging by the devastation he’d seen when he got here, he’d been right.
By morning he wouldn’t be surprised if they were burying the dead.
Hard Core (Onyx Group) Page 8
