Natalie jerked back, her heart thumping. “I’ll do what I can, with what I have.” She touched a hand to the necklace Jack had given her, thankful the chain hadn’t broken. It gave her a small sense of comfort she sorely needed.
Even if she managed to escape from her captors, she had no idea where she was. Because they had traveled all night, they were quite a distance from Trujillo. How would Jack and his Navy SEAL brothers find her in the jungles of Honduras?
Heart heavy, she reached for a handful of Rapid Diagnostic Test cards and a scalpel. When she hovered over Roman, holding the scalpel, the two goons who’d shoved her through the door rushed forward, pointing their guns at her head.
She pushed them aside. “Look, I can’t work with guns in my face. Either shoot me or let me do my job.”
Ramon spoke to them, muttering low in a guttural Spanish.
They backed away and Natalie went to work. Given the symptoms and the damp conditions outside, she started with the easiest and most likely test first that only needed a drop of blood. Others required stool samples or more extensive blood testing of which she doubted she had the necessary stains to make an accurate test.
She poked the tip of Ramon’s finger and squeezed it until a drop of blood balled up on the tip. He was so weak, he didn’t complain or jerk his hand away. Grabbing the RDT card, she pressed the droplet in the appropriate place and waited the required amount of time.
As she suspected, the man tested positive for malaria. She riffled through the box for the medication he’d need to cure the illness. Thankfully, there were several bottles of Quinine pills. She shook one of the pills out into her hand and looked to the women. “He’ll need a drink of water. Agua.” Natalie motioned with her hands, indicating a drink.
One of the women turned and poured water from a bucket into a cup and carried it to Natalie.
She stared at the murky water and felt her stomach jump then shook her head. She asked for bottled water or bottled drinks of any kind.
The woman hurried from the hut and returned with a bottled fruit drink.
While Natalie helped the man to lean upright enough to swallow the pill with a sip of the drink, she used her primitive Spanish, instructing the women to boil their drinking and cooking water before consuming it to kill the parasites and germs.
When Ramon was settled back against the bed, she glanced at the others in the room. They didn’t appear to be affected by malaria at that time.
In her slow Spanish, she asked the ladies, “Is there standing water near the camp?”
One nodded and answered in Spanish, “Yes. It rains here.”
“Standing water allows mosquitoes to breed. If Ramon has Malaria, others in your camp will have it.” She was thankful she’d had her vaccination against the debilitating disease.
“Yes, yes.” The shorter woman hurried to the door and motioned for Natalie to follow.
When she stepped that way, carrying the bottle of pills and the fruit drink, she was blocked by one of the big, burly men stepping into her path.
“Ramon, por favor,” the woman pleaded.
The man in the bed spoke to the guards in Spanish, “Follow her.”
Natalie trailed the woman through the mud to another shack, built of a variety of bits of wood and tin.
Once inside, the native lit a candle and carried it to a pallet on the floor. A small girl lay in a blanket, her face beaded in sweat. Her little body shook and she moaned.
Natalie cut one of the pills in quarters and helped the little one to swallow it with more of the fruit drink she’d carried from Ramon’s hut. She left several of the pills with the woman with clear instructions on how to administer them. “Are there others?” she asked.
The woman looked to the men guarding Natalie and nodded. She spoke to the men in her Spanish so rapid, Natalie couldn’t keep up. She caught every other word, especially when the woman said Americano.
Had they brought her to the camp where they kept the hostages being held for ransom?
The guards shook their heads.
The woman frowned and more or less scolded them.
Finally, they sighed and motioned for Natalie to follow.
Back out in the mud, she trudged to yet another hut. This one was guarded by a man at the front and another at the rear, both carrying military-style rifles. They moved aside when one of Natalie’s guards spoke.
Inside, the room was dark. She didn’t have the benefit of a candle or lantern. She stood in the darkness, letting her eyes adjust to the little bit of light streaming through the open door.
A moan sounded from the floor to the right.
“I’m Dr. Natalie Rhoades. Are you Americans?”
She waited only a moment before two voices sounded at once. “Yes.”
Chapter Eight
‡
The sun was low on the horizon when Jack checked his equipment for the fifth time. He had his rifle slung over his shoulder, a nine-millimeter tucked into a holster and another tucked into his boot. Two Black Hawk helicopters soared over the Honduran jungle, headed to the coordinates indicated by the GPS tracking device located in the necklace he’d given Natalie before they’d gone to the festival.
He prayed the guerillas hadn’t injured her and that she hadn’t been separated from the device in transit. Otherwise, they could be way off course and miss their target all together.
“Five minutes,” Gator called out.
Closest to the open door, Jack grabbed the rope and held on. The helicopters flew low, practically skimming the canopy so the enemy wouldn’t hear their approach. They would drop to ground a couple miles from the camp and hike in from there.
“Ready?” Gator said.
Jack’s pulse jumped and then settled. Although, they trained for this type of operation so many times he wasn’t nervous, he couldn’t stop worrying about Natalie. If they didn’t get in and find her first, they risked her being used as a human shield or a bargaining chip for the guerillas to buy their way out of the corner the SEALs would force them into.
“Go!”
Jack tossed the end of the rope out of the helicopter, grabbed it with his gloved hands and fast-roped down into the trees. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he moved out of the way to avoid being hit by the next SEAL coming down. Once everyone was accounted for, they moved out swiftly with Jack taking point.
He carried the handheld tracking device and took the most direct route through the jungle to get to the guerilla camp.
Thirty minutes later, he slowed. Through the trees and brush, he spotted a wisp of smoke. He motioned for the others to spread out. As quiet as big cats stalking their prey, the SEALs moved in.
One by one, they reported their sightings of the numbers and locations of the armed guerillas.
No one had yet to report seeing Dr. Rhoades or the wealthy hostages.
Jack noted one hut had a guard at the front and the rear.
Gator slipped up beside him and he pointed to the hut. “That has to be where they keep the hostages.” He spoke into his headset. “Irish, Swede, take the guards on the hut at the far end of the camp.” They gave the two SEALs time to work their way around the camp, swinging wide to avoid detection. When they reported that they were in place, Gator gave the go-ahead and the SEAL team moved in.
They neared the edges of the camp, and the door to the hut containing the hostages opened and two big guerillas exited followed by Natalie. They flanked her, marching her to another hut.
Jack’s pulse jumped and he almost leaped out of position to go after her. Gator’s hand on his arm brought him back to reason.
“We’ll take the hut she goes into,” Gator whispered.
All three entered the building in the middle of the camp. It was the largest and of the best construction. “Fuck,” Jack muttered. “Wanna bet they’re taking her in to see Ramon Villarreal?”
Gator nodded. “We can’t wait until she comes out. That might not happen anytime soon, and the longer we wait,
the higher risk of someone stumbling upon one of us.”
Jack knew he was right, but how was he getting Natalie out of the hut in which the leader of the Castillo Commandos lived without harming her?
Gator spoke softly into his microphone. “Let’s rock this joint.”
Darkness settled on the camp sooner than above the jungle’s canopy. Like lions in the night, the SEAL team stole into camp and picked off the perimeter guards. No shots were fired and no alarm went up. Irish dispatched the guard on the rear of the hostage building, and Swede took out the one in the front by making a slight noise that drew him to the side.
Because the camp had no electricity, the SEALs had the advantage with their night vision goggles. They could see the enemy in the dark.
Once they had the night shift accounted for, Dustman set charges on the trucks. When he was ready, he spoke into the radio. “Get ready for fireworks.”
Jack and Gator covered their ears and slipped their NVGs up.
A loud bang shook the ground beneath them. Men tumbled out of the huts, shouting and firing weapons into the air. When the ensuing fire reached the gasoline in the truck tanks, a louder and more impressive explosion lit up the darkness.
The SEALs moved in.
Big Bird, their best sniper, set up shop on a clear corner of camp and picked off those guerillas carrying guns first.
In all the confusion, Jack, Gator and Dustman kicked open the door to the leader’s hut. Jack was first through, diving in to the right. Gator covered, shooting one of the big guys who’d escorted Dr. Rhoades inside. Two women cowered in a corner.
The other guard who’d led Natalie into the hut pulled her in front of him and held his gun to her head.
Jack tensed, sweat breaking out at what he saw.
Gator aimed his weapon at the guard’s head and spoke to him in Spanish, “Let her go, or I’ll kill you.”
“I’ll kill her first,” he replied.
“I will count to three. If you don’t let her go by then, you’re a dead man.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed.
“Uno.”
Jack studied the angle and distance he was from Natalie’s captor. He could kill the man before he had a chance to pull the trigger. He was an excellent shot at close range and so was Gator. But did he want to risk hitting Natalie?
“Dos,” Gator said, his voice low and dangerous.
Jack aimed carefully and fired. The shot rang out and the man holding Natalie jerked, staggered backward, then crumpled to the floor, his gun dropping to the dirt.
Gator glared at Jack, lowering his weapon several inches.
He jumped to his feet. “Sorry, you were taking too long.”
Natalie sagged, her entire body trembling. “Oh, Jack.” She fell into his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I didn’t think you’d find me.”
“I’d search to the end of the earth to find you,” he whispered as he smelled her familiar scent.
Gator snorted and pointed his gun at the man in the bed who’d leaned over reaching for the weapon on the floor. “Touch it and I’ll kill you.”
“Ramon Villarreal?” Jack asked.
The man in the bed appeared weak and sickly. But he glared at Jack, refusing to speak.
Natalie answered for him. “Yes. He’s Ramon.” She touched the necklace around her neck. “He threatened to kill me if I didn’t cure him.”
“What’s he got?”
“Malaria. As do his hostages. The sooner we get them to a medical facility, the better.” Still holding him around the middle, she leaned back and looked up into his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have transportation?”
He kissed her lips and grinned. “As a matter of fact, we do.”
Already they could hear the sound of a helicopter landing in the small clearing beside the camp.
In minutes, they had the hostages, loaded into one helicopter and Ramon and the little girl loaded into the other. The child and Ramon would be flown to the Honduran capital where they would receive medical care.
“The team will mop up and wait for the Honduran National Army to come collect the guerillas,” Gator assured her.
Natalie and Jack rode with the hostages and assisted with their medical needs, watching over them until they reached the U.S.S. Mercy. The large hospital ship had been sailing off the coast of Honduras, headed for a mission in Argentina.
Natalie handed off the patients to the doctors on board the medical ship and endured being examined for any lasting effects of being knocked unconscious. When she got the all-clear, she begged a shower and clean scrubs and shower shoes from the medical staff.
Clean of all the mud and germs acquired at the guerilla camp, she craved wide-open spaces and fresh air. And she got it out on the deck. Jack stood by her from the time he found her in Ramon’s hut to the time she stepped into the shower, promising he’d be there when she got out. On board the ship, she knew she was safe, but deep down, she worried if she turned away for too long, Jack would disappear out of her life for good.
She knew the fear was stupid. Jack was a Navy SEAL. He was going back to his job wherever that might take him next. He might never have a need to return to Central America. Natalie had her floating doctor boat and the responsibility of keeping it going. For the first time in the two years she’d lived on board, she wished for other options to look forward to.
Once the helicopter had been refueled, they were flown back to Trujillo where they were met by an original crew member of the borrowed luxury yacht. He ferried Natalie and Jack back to the Nightingale, promising to pick up Jack the next day.
Exhausted from her ordeal with the Commandos, Natalie wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for twenty-four hours. She couldn’t. Jack would be gone the next day and she wanted to spend every minute with him until he left.
Her crew met her on deck when she returned.
Hallie flung her arms around her, crying tears of joy. “I’m so glad they found you.”
Mac hugged her, too. He had a bandaged knot on his head where he’d been hit. When she tried to examine it, he held up his hands. “Dr. Biacowski checked me over. I’ll live.” He smiled. “And thanks to Jack and his team of SEALS, so will you.” He hugged her, his eyes suspiciously moist. “Welcome back.”
After she’d greeted each member individually, she held up her hands. “If you all will excuse me, I want to spend the next twenty-four hours in my own bed.”
Hallie gave her sly smile. “Alone?”
Natalie’s cheeks heated. “I hope not.”
Behind her, Jack answered. “No, she will not be alone. As her personal security guard, I’ll make sure she is safe from guerillas and pirates.” He took her hand and led her into her stateroom, closing the door with a clunk.
“You don’t have to go back to your team?” A quiver started low in her belly.
“Skipper passed on the word the team has the rest of the week off for R&R aboard the Pegasus, courtesy of William Bentley, the hostage you treated for malaria. The boat’s his.”
“A week?” Her pulse racing, Natalie gripped the hem of her scrub shirt and yanked it up over her head. She hadn’t had a clean bra to wear beneath it so she’d gone without, condemning the clothes she’d worn in the guerilla camp to the trash. She slipped out of the bottoms and stood before him naked. “Are you joining your brothers on board the Pegasus anytime soon?”
Jack laughed and hugged her naked body to him. “Are you kidding me? Not until I absolutely have to.”
Natalie helped him pull off the T-shirt and sweatpants the personnel of the medical ship provided him. When he was naked, he pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time, a hand caressing her skin.
Then he pushed her to arm’s length, his expression intense. “Natalie, we’ve only known each other a short time.”
She smiled and brushed her hand along the side of his face, loving how rough it was, trying to brace herself for the words he would surely say next. He’d w
ant this to be a one-time deal. Seeing her after he left would be impossible. They each had their jobs, and their work was not even in the same country. Her chest tightened and her eyes burned. “Yes, Jack?” She looked up and forced a smile to her lips.
Wincing, he shook his head. “I know I should say this week will be all we have together, but I just can’t.”
Natalie’s heart lightened slightly. She swallowed hard on the lump forming in her throat. “Go on.”
“I don’t know how you feel, but I don’t want what we have to end.”
“Neither do I. But how can we see each other if we’re not even in the same geographical area?”
Jack’s hand slipped over her shoulder and down her arm, coming up to cup her breast. “I don’t know, but can we leave it open? I want to see you again.”
She traced the line of his collarbone with her finger, dragged it down to one of his hard brown nipples and tweaked it. “I could stand to take a vacation, at least once a year. Perhaps we could restock in Virginia? Maybe even provide services to low-income Americans. I could check into that possibility.”
“And I love the tropics. I could spend my vacation helping out on the Nightingale.” Jack bent, scooped her up into arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and stretched out beside her, flashing her a wide grin. “Hell, we haven’t even had time to get to know each other. Let’s give it a week. If we haven’t killed each other, we’ll work things out.”
“What do you want to know about me?”
“I want to know about the rose tattoo on your ass.”
She smiled as she ran her hands up his muscled arms. “Freshman year of college. It was my way of stretching my wings and rebelling against my parent’s tyranny. What about the eagle across your shoulder?”
“I got that one after a buddy of mine was killed on a mission.” Jack slipped lower down her body and tongued the tip of one breast. “You really are beautiful, inside and out.”
He trailed more kissed across her chest to the other breast and sucked it into his mouth, pulling hard. Shifting ever lower, he took his time making it all the way down to the juncture of her thighs. When he parted her folds, she arched her back, digging both heels into the mattress. “Please,” she begged.
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