Hallie winked at Jack. “Your shoulders are anatomically exceptional, as well.” She opened the bottle of alcohol and handed it and the gauze to Natalie. “Is that better?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
Mac snorted. “Seriously, Hallie?”
Natalie tipped the bottle of alcohol over the gauze. “He’s a patient, not an entertainer at a strip club.”
Jack’s sudden bark of laughter startled Natalie and she spilled alcohol onto his leg, some of which found its way into his wound. His laughter turned into a slight hiss. “God, that feels good,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Good Lord,” Hallie muttered. “He even makes pain look sexy.”
“He’s just a guy. A beach bum,” Mac noted.
“I’m employed,” Jack corrected, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I gave up being a bum for a paycheck and a chance to see the world, one exotic port at a time.”
Natalie couldn’t help but get caught up in Jack’s rich, deep tone and playful expression. Pushing back her shoulders, she applied the soaked gauze to his wound.
This time he didn’t flinch, his gaze on hers as she held the gauze with a firm touch, gauging his tolerance for pain. Then she cleaned the area and held out her hand. “Dry gauze, please.”
Hallie handed Natalie more gauze. “Sounds romantic.” She sighed. “So, Jack, do you have a girl in every port?”
“Hallie!” Natalie clapped the gauze over the injury a little harder than she would have liked.
Jack smiled, his jaw tight. “Are you this gentle with all your patients, Dr. Rhoades?”
“Ignore Hallie,” Mac said with a shake of his head. “She’s been cooped up on the boat too long. I think she needs a night out.”
Hallie crossed her arms over her chest, her chin lifting in challenge. “You’re right. I could use a night out.” Her mouth curled into a saucy grin. “But it would be so much better if the night was with Jack.”
Mac’s jaw tightened. “I see.” He turned toward Natalie. “Do you need me for anything, Dr. Rhoades?”
She glanced at his taut face and almost asked him what was wrong, but Mac looked like he could bite the cap off a bottle of beer with his teeth. “No, thank you. Perhaps Dr. Biacowski could use your skills with Steve. I’m worried he hasn’t come up from below.”
“I’ll check.” Mac turned on his heels and stalked away.
Natalie waited until Mac had disappeared below deck until she said, “Hallie, I’d like for you to go, too.”
“But you don’t have anyone here to assist you.”
“I can manage Mr. Fischer’s wound care on my own now, thank you.”
“What if he’s working with the guerillas and attacks you?”
Natalie glanced up into eyes a beautiful shade of blue and she gulped. “Mr. Fischer, are you going to attack me?”
He hesitated, his eyes flaring. Then he shook his head. “Not unless you want me to.”
Hallie choked on her laughter. “I knew he was a bad boy. He has it written all over him.”
“Hallie,” Natalie warned, though, at times, she wished she could be as direct as Hallie. The younger woman had nailed it—the man had bad boy written all over every inch of his incredible body.
“What?” Hallie raised her hands. “I can’t help that I worry about you.”
“Daphne and Jean-David are on deck. If I need assistance, I can call out to them.” Natalie tipped her head toward the door.
“I’m going.” Hallie’s lips firmed into a tight line. “Though the view is much better out here than in the cabin.” She left, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she disappeared through the cabin door.
Tearing adhesive tape from a roll, Natalie secured the gauze to Jack’s thick, tanned thigh, her fingers pressing into the solid muscle. She pressed the adhesive several times to be sure it stuck—not that she was gauging the hardness of his muscle. He smelled of sun and salt water, and his shoulders were so broad they blocked the light from the setting sun from glaring into her eyes.
“Nice work, doc.” He stood and pulled her to her feet.
She stood so close, she felt the heat radiating off his body and had to fight the urge to touch him.
The boat rocked in the waves and she fell against that hard, muscular chest, her palms planting against the smooth, taut plains.
His arm came up around her waist, clamping her against him, her hips firmly pressed against his. “I’ve got you,” he assured her.
His soothing tones did nothing to slow her racing pulse. Boy did he, with strong arms and a rock-solid body. Natalie’s body lit up like a furnace.
“So, what’s the prognosis, doc?”
His lips were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. “Prognosis?” she whispered. All coherent thought escaped her as she curled her fingers into his skin.
“Will I live?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She shifted her gaze up to his eyes and fell into the deep blue orbs. “It’s too soon to tell.”
“Perhaps this will help you decide.” He bent to brush his lips lightly over hers.
Normally one to hold every man at arm’s length, Natalie didn’t protest. She was powerless to resist as his kiss grew more insistent and he claimed her mouth.
When he allowed her up for air, she stared into his eyes.
The boat shifted again and her bag slid across the deck, bumping into the backs of her ankles, returning her to her senses. “Let go of me.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, his brows drawing together. “My apologies for being so forward.” He dropped his arm from around her waist and stepped back.
Natalie immediately missed the warmth of his embrace, but she couldn’t let him kiss her again. She had a strict personal code of not fooling around with the crewmembers.
A tiny voice in her head reminded her he wasn’t a member of her crew.
Either way, she wasn’t interested in getting involved with any man. She’d already had one good marriage with a man she loved. She doubted seriously she could be so fortunate as to find another man who could rise to that level. “I’ll have Skipper bring you close enough to your boat to get there by jet ski. I think it best if you leave, now.”
Chapter Two
‡
Jack stood on the deck as they neared the luxury yacht, the Pegasus. Dr. Rhoades had disappeared into the boat’s cabin, leaving him alone. The man and woman he’d seen working the deck had disappeared, too.
He scanned the bay, looking for the gunboat. After the Black Hawk had come to call, the gunboat disappeared around the curve of the coastline. The Black Hawk eventually returned to its temporary landing zone to wait for another call to action.
“Status, Fish?” Swede spoke in his ear.
Jack shot a quick look around to be certain he was alone. “Did the crew of the Black Hawk follow the gunboat back to its docking position?”
“They pulled up a narrow river and disappeared into the jungle. We’re arranging for a boat drop into the area for tomorrow. Where are you?”
“I’m aboard the Nightingale.”
“The what?”
“Nightingale. A floating doctor boat. Its crew members are medical personnel who visit poor countries and provide free health care to the natives.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Heading your way.” Dr. Rhoades had given him his marching orders.
“What happened on the beach?”
His muscles tensed at the memory. “The guerillas chased the doctor and her staff off the beach and had a boat waiting in the bay to cut them off.”
“You think they were trying to hijack the boat?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We were in the same bay and the gunboat didn’t even attempt to come after us.”
“Could it be because our boat is filled with an overdose of testosterone? This medical boat could be had with little resistance. Only the skipper and one of the other crewmembers carry a gun.”
“Are you kidding me?” Swede exclaimed.
“That’s it. From what I can tell, the group’s about fifty-fifty male to female.”
“Lucky bastard. I’d like to see some females.”
Jack wasn’t complaining. Dr. Rhoades’s dark eyes flashed in his memory. “I’m leaving as soon as the skipper brings this tub to a halt.”
As he spoke, the floating doctor boat slowed and eased to a stop.
Jack strode to the back of the boat and pulled the line he’d used to tie off the jet ski, bringing it close enough so that he could climb aboard.
“Mr. Fischer,” a gravelly female voice called out behind him.
He turned to face a tall, masculine woman with short, spiked silver hair. She hadn’t been part of the boat’s welcoming committee.
She stuck out her hand. “Ronnie Moore. I’m the skipper of the Nightingale.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He took her hand, amazed at how firm and strong her grip was.
“I saw what you did earlier to keep the guerillas off our tails while we got our boat underway.” She gave him a single nod. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned to go.
“Mr. Fischer, the purpose of this boat is to provide medical assistance to people who can’t afford it or don’t have access to decent care. We help with medicine, education and wound care. However, we can’t help others if we’re under attack. We could use someone like you to prevent future attacks.”
Jack frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I have a gun and I know how to use it, but being out on the deck firing, when I need to be getting the Nightingale out of hostile situations, doesn’t do much good.” She scrubbed a hand over her spiky hair. “What I’m trying to say is that if you want a job doing some good for people, you’ve got it. The pay sucks, but the food’s good, when we can get fresh meat and produce.”
“You’re offering me a job?” He was so taken aback his shock must have shown on his face.
“We can’t compete with the accommodations of a luxury yacht, but you’ll have a hard time finding a more dedicated group of people who care.”
“What does Dr. Rhoades think about me working on board the Nightingale?”
Ronnie’s brows rose. “She’s the one who suggested it. I drive the ship, but she runs the show.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The good doctor suggested he come to work for her crew? “I thought she wanted me to leave.”
The skipper shrugged. “She saw reason and changed her mind.”
This was a switch in direction Jack hadn’t seen coming. “Wow, I don’t know.”
“Think about it. Dr. Rhoades is a good doctor and an even better person. Not a soul on this boat wouldn’t give his life for her, and she’s saved so many. You’d be expected to fill in wherever is needed, but mostly, we need someone to provide protection for the staff, especially the doctors. They’re a scarce commodity down here and are often targets of kidnappings.”
He could see it. In the poorest of villages, a doctor was even scarcer than food. “I’ll consider it and let you know.”
Ronnie stuck out her hand. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. What you did today was very brave and ballsy.”
“Thanks.” He let go of the skipper’s hand and climbed onto the jet ski, hit the start switch and tossed the line back onto the Nightingale. As he backed away, he glanced at the boat filled with medical staff who gave of their time and services not for financial gain, but because doing so was the right thing. And after seeing Dr. Rhoades with the little girl earlier, he could tell providing healthcare was something she was very good at and that her heart was in her work and the welfare of her patients.
As he pushed the throttle lever, he caught a glimpse of soft brown hair that had escaped its messy bun and was lifted by the sea breeze. Dr. Natalie Rhoades stood on the deck, her gaze following him as he sped across the water toward the Pegasus.
Gator, Irish and Dustman stood on the deck, watching him as he closed the distance between him and the borrowed yacht. Gator and Dustman wore dark swim trunks similar to the ones they trained in back at Little Creek. Irish, in keeping with the playboy image of a rich young man on a yacht, wore a bright red, butt-hugging suit, which barely contained his junk. They waved like vacationing rich guys, greeting one of their own returning from a shore jaunt.
Jack drove the jet ski up onto the loading platform specially designed to quick-park the rich man’s toys and climbed off.
“Well?” Irish met him at the rear of the boat. “Did you get close enough to the gunboat to make out any faces on board?”
Jack shook his head. “I was too busy dodging bullets.” He rubbed the wound on his leg. It twinged when he walked, but was nothing compared to others he’d received in battle.
Dustman joined them. “What? You didn’t hop on board and go all John Wayne?”
With a snort, Jack pushed past Irish and Dustman. “Not today. Maybe when I have someone covering my six. Where’re Gator and Swede?”
Irish tipped his head toward the cabin. “Inside, waiting on you.”
Jack hurried through sliding glass doors, a plan forming in his head.
The team had transformed the elaborate living area into a tactical operation center with computers lining one wall, tapping into the big television screens to display satellite and drone images. Swede sat at a granite bar, his weapon of choice—his laptop computer—open and displaying images of what had happened that day. “Do you see that? They weren’t shooting at the female wearing the stethoscope around her neck, only the tall man.” Swede hit a button on his keyboard and the video fast-forwarded to the bay chase where the gunners on the gunboat hadn’t been firing at the little dinghy carrying the medical personnel. “They were trying to cut them off from making it to their boat.”
“They didn’t start firing at anything in particular until Fish got in their way and gave them a face full of saltwater.” Gator leaned back and glanced over at Jack. “We got lucky. The drone was over the beach when it all went down. Swede captured the entire scene from a bird’s eye view.”
“I was there, I know what happened,” Jack said.
Swede reset the video feed and played it again.
Jack leaned in to watch the footage. He pointed at the screen where the pretty, dark-haired woman grabbed her medical bag and a folding chair and ran for the boat. “That’s Dr. Rhoades. She’s in charge of the floating doctor boat.” She was the last of the medical staff to head for the boat. The tall lanky guy saw she was behind him, so he stopped and urged her to go in front so he was covering her from behind. As they ran for the boat, he took a hit in the leg, dropped the chair he’d been carrying and limped the rest of the way. That had to be the man Dr. Rhoades had referred to as Steve. The others helped him into the boat, and Dr. Rhoades and Mac were the last to climb aboard.
“Who’s the pretty blonde?” Irish asked.
“Hallie. I believe she’s a nurse.” Jack pointed at the bald man. “Hallie and Mac performed triage on the locals waiting in line.”
Gator turned and paced across the spacious and tastefully decorated living area, his arms crossed. “The leftists haven’t made a move on this yacht since we’ve been here and we’ve more or less been sitting ducks. They could have had us several times over.”
“I didn’t mind the first couple days because I’m working on my tan.” Irish patted the array of freckles on his pale chest. The man never tanned worth shit. “But I’m ready for some action.”
“Yeah, and Fish here goes on a joy ride and runs right into some.” Dustman shook his head. “And he found the women, and I’m assuming, the only Americans within a hundred miles.”
Gator paced back to the computer where Swede had started the video all over again. “They weren’t interested in our bait. They seemed dead set on targeting the doctor’s crew. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have set up both a land and sea assault.”
“Why?” Dustman ask
ed. “I bet they don’t have a ton of money. They probably operate off of donations.”
“I guarantee they don’t have a lot,” Jack confirmed. “The boat appeared to be well-maintained, but vintage. The group isn’t heavily armed. From what they said, they only have two handguns on board.”
Shaking his head, Irish gave a low whistle. “Are they just asking for trouble?”
“No, they’re on a mission to help people, not shoot them.”
“But anyone with any touch with reality would know these waters aren’t safe.”
“They get it now.” Jack pushed a hand through his shaggy hair. “Look, if the expensive yacht isn’t drawing out the pirates, we need to focus on what is.”
Gator’s brows narrowed. “You think we should use the doctor boat as bait?”
“I don’t think we should use anyone on that boat as bait. But apparently, the Castillo Commandos could be interested in them. The point is, they aren’t safe.”
“And we haven’t caught our pirates,” Gator concluded. “You know the big boys at the top won’t fund our little vacation indefinitely.”
“Right. We need to position ourselves where we can do the most good and hope to catch at least one of the guerillas to lead us to the rest.” Jack took a deep breath and jumped in. “The doctor and the skipper offered me a job on board the Nightingale to provide security.”
Irish laughed out loud. “Did you tell them that you already have a job?”
“I told them I was a deckhand on this yacht.” He shrugged. “They want me to jump ship and go to work for them.”
“They have money to lure you away from a cushy job?” Gator asked. “Maybe we underestimated the value of the crew. Perhaps one of them is the daughter of a rich oil magnate.”
Jack smiled. “No, actually, I was told the group couldn’t offer much. The skipper stated none of them worked for financial gain, but because it was the right thing to do.”
Irish snorted. “In other words, you’d be working for peanuts.”
An image of the little girl with the injured leg, and how grateful she and her grandmother had been to get any kind of medical assistance, flashed through Jack’s mind. Payment wasn’t always monetary.
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