by Amy Andrews
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, half sitting, trying to remove her legs from contact with his body.
‘I’m going to massage your calves and thighs. It’s the only way you’ll make it today.’
‘Forget it. I’m never going to make it,’ she protested again, trying to remove her legs and wincing as a sharp pain tore through her leg muscles.
He started to knead her calf muscles, knowing that they were too sore for her to move them away again. ‘You can make it,’ he said as his long fingers worked at the bunched fibres.
‘I can’t,’ she whimpered as his fingers created agony and ecstasy in equal measure. Tears of pain stung her eyes and she swiped them away.
‘You can and you will, and when I see a side path or an opportunity I’m going to yell at you to break. You’re going to react instantly and run like the wind and we’ll be free.’
His pep talk was more for his own benefit than hers. If he could treat her like one of his men, he could ignore that the flesh beneath his fingers was smooth and supple instead of bulky and hairy. That her ankle was delicate and her knee slim and the fact that her thighs led to an entirely different place to that of one of his men’s.
Despite the torture, Holly had to remind herself that rebel soldiers were a mere metre away. Because if she didn’t and she could actually physically get up without collapsing in screaming agony, she’d jump his bones, whether he liked it or not. His ministrations were so erotically painful she didn’t know whether to scream or to purr.
Kia entered just as Holly thought she was about to drool in the dirt. She smiled at them shyly as Richard released Holly. She had brought them some breakfast and it smelt so delicious Holly knew she’d drag her aching body over an acre of broken glass to get to it.
Through their limited knowledge of each other’s language Holly managed to ascertain that the baby was doing well and that Mila was recovering nicely. Holly could tell Kia had sympathy for their plight and she wondered if that could be useful.
When Kia came back to retrieve their bowls, Richard indicated he wanted to speak to John. Now they had gained some kudos with the delivery of Mila’s baby, Richard felt it was time to exploit their deed for all it was worth. If he could find out where they were going and what the rebels had planned for them, it would have been a worthwhile exercise.
‘You rang?’ said John, standing at the doorway several minutes later, a sardonic smile in place.
Richard walked outside and away from Holly. ‘We saved a child’s life last night. How about you reciprocate and let us go?’
John laughed and it disturbed some birds nesting in the jungle canopy. ‘Sergeant, you amuse me. Good try.’
‘OK. Release Holly. You’ll still have me. Consider it a gesture of good faith. Our government will look favourably upon it.’
John laughed again. ‘Do you really think you were a random selection, Sergeant? We’ve been watching you and your mosquito foraging forays into Abeil for weeks. The red cross on your shoulder makes you very useful to us. Yes, we can get money for you. We can buy food and medicine and weapons, but as I’ve already said you are far more valuable to us.’
‘Oh?’ said Richard, intrigued despite himself.
‘Fumradi is ill. He needs medical attention. We chose you.’
‘Fumradi? The rebel leader?’
‘Very good, Sergeant.’ He smiled cynically. ‘You are well informed.’
‘Take him to a hospital.’
‘No hospitals. He would be arrested as soon as he was admitted.’
‘Take him to the army hospital. We treat anyone, regardless. It’s part of our mandate.’
‘No hospitals.’ He dropped his cigarette and ground it into the forest floor. The steel in his voice would have done a sergeant-major proud.
‘OK,’ said Richard, holding up his hands. ‘So let me get this straight. You abduct me at gunpoint, threaten my life, restrain me and keep me under lock and key, and expect me to treat one of the people who perpetrated—worse, who no doubt ordered—this crime against me?’
‘You are astute, Sergeant.’
‘You could have just asked. This cross,’ he said, pointing to his sleeve, ‘means, regardless of who you are or what you’ve done, I’m honour bound to treat you. How far away is he?’
‘We will get to top camp tomorrow,’ said John.
‘So, what’s wrong with your leader?’
‘He was wounded two days ago in battle. He is a very brave man.’
Richard knew there were still skirmishes that occurred daily in the disputed territories between government and rebel troops. He also knew that the rebels had used the chaos and confusion caused by the typhoon to reinvigorate the fight for independence.
‘He has a fever now,’ John finished.
Great, thought Richard. How the hell did they know that he was even still alive? Fever meant infection and infections could be deadly. ‘Did someone remove the bullet?’ he asked.
‘I did,’ John said.
‘What if he’s already dead when we get there? By the time we reach him another four days will have already passed. If his wound is infected it may be too late.’
‘You’d better hope for your sake he’s not, Sergeant. If you are of no use to us then we’ll have to revert to plan B and see what your government is willing to pay.’
‘They won’t pay,’ said Richard, his voice matter-of-fact.
‘Then I guess you’re in a spot of bother,’ said John, and gave a sickening chuckle.
‘Two conditions,’ said Richard. ‘I won’t be bound. I won’t be locked up. I give you my word I will not escape. I will treat your leader but not as a prisoner, as an Australian soldier doing the job he came here to do.’
John considered it for a moment. ‘Granted.’
‘Release the woman.’
‘No way, Sergeant. The woman is my insurance policy. She stays. That is not negotiable. When Fumradi is better we will release you both. I give you my word.’
‘No deal.’
John laughed again and Richard was actually chilled by the harshness of it. ‘You think I won’t shoot her now, Sergeant? You want to test me on that one? Better still, I could leave her here alone with some of my soldiers that have a particular liking for white women.’
Richard felt the bile rise in his throat.
‘You’ll treat Fumradi whether she’s alive or dead, because that’s the kind of person you are. It’s up to you what happens to your woman.’
Richard walked right up to John, closing the distance in an instant and grabbing the front of his shirt. He dwarfed the older man and took pleasure in the fleeting glimpse of fear he saw in the man’s eyes. He heard the cocking of guns and the demands in a foreign tongue that he had no trouble translating, as nearby soldiers became nervous.
‘You touch one hair on her head, she gets a scratch and everything that this cross stands for…goes out the window.’
John grabbed Richard’s hand and forcibly removed it from near his throat. He took a step back. ‘So we understand each other, Sergeant. You do your bit and I’ll do mine.’
Richard turned away, not trusting himself to answer. Their situation had drastically improved. They would be kept alive while they were useful but the threat to Holly’s safety, her life, burnt in his gut.
‘If you can’t save our leader, all bets are off,’ said John to Richard’s retreating frame.
Richard slowed and turned, the dank, sizzling heat of the jungle reflecting his seething mood. ‘Oh, I can save him, John. And I will hold you to your promise. You can bet on that.’
CHAPTER SIX
EVERY step Holly took was agony. Even on level ground her calves and thighs screamed at her, but this steady incline was excruciating. To make matters worse, the humidity was oppressive. Sweat ran down her face and arms and trickled between her breasts.
They were largely protected from direct sunlight by the sparse canopy overhead, but the heat and the moisture made the march har
d going. Holly felt as if she was constantly pushing against a wall of wet blankets.
The knowledge that they had been taken for a purpose didn’t fill her with as much joy now as it had when Richard had first told her about it that morning.
‘See,’ she had said, ‘not such bad people after all.’ And he had given her a scowl.
But it didn’t take her too long to figure out that Richard was the valuable one. Her capture had been purely incidental—she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. So she wasn’t needed. Putting it bluntly, she was expendable.
As he marched, Richard forced himself to concentrate on what he had in his pack that would be useful in treating his patient instead of how much he wanted to deck John. And how much he wanted to shake Holly.
Fluids and clean dressings. And antibiotics. But only a very limited stock of these lifesaving drugs, enough for one dose of each. If Fumradi’s wound had gone septic it wouldn’t be enough. It could buy them some time but getting a raging infection after his initial injury, one dose of antibiotics was like throwing a hand grenade at the Great Wall of China, hoping to reduce it to rubble. It just wasn’t going to work.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He had given his word that he would treat Fumradi and that’s what he would do. For the moment at least, if nothing else, it gave them a potential reprieve.
Suddenly they heard helicopters overhead and John halted the party, ordering them all to get down low and stay still. Richard looked up and through the trees could make out the familiar shape of a Blackhawk.
‘Is that one of ours?’ Holly asked turning in her crouch position to Richard.
‘Yep.’ He smiled.
Holly smiled back at him and felt hope for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun. Even her muscles stopped aching for a magical moment. ‘They’re looking for us?’
‘Absolutely,’ he confirmed, and hoped he was convincing because he wasn’t really sure. It wasn’t unusual for Blackhawks and Iroquois to fly over this region. ‘They know we’re missing and they’re searching for us, Holly.’
And the relief in her eyes and the smile she shone his way was worth it. If it gave her the impetus to keep going, if it gave her one small ray of hope that they would get out of here alive, he knew he would tell her whatever she needed to hear.
They heard the wocca, wocca of the rotors grow distant and John ordered them up again. Holly was amazed at how much lighter her step was. How the knowledge that there were people beyond this mountain who knew of their plight and were trying to help could spur her on and reinvigorate muscles that had previously been begging her to stop.
Richard noticed the spring in her step instantly. He’d been forced to watch the sway and wiggle of her bottom all morning, a different kind of torture, and definitely recognised a renewed perkiness.
They trudged on silently for another hour. Richard noticed Holly’s steps becoming slower again. Had the jubilation caused by the chopper receded already? She tripped over a tree root and he heard pain in her muttered expletive. He needed to try to keep her spirits up.
‘Tell me about your work at the orphanage.’
His voice startled her out of her misery. The only voices she’d heard for a while had spoken a foreign tongue and it felt good to hear English. And she was grateful for anything that took her mind off the burning in her legs. So she prattled on about her volunteer job for a while.
‘Is it rewarding?’ he asked when she had run out of things to say.
‘Working with the kids, sure. I feel like I’m making a real difference, which is a nice change.’
Richard could relate to what she was saying. That was the part he liked most about his job. The fact that he made a difference to the lives of so many poor people caught up in such awful situations.
‘But I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness of these poor people. The scale of the destruction…I suppose I sound like some spoilt rich girl,’ she sighed, sploshing through her millionth puddle in the track.
He laughed. ‘You are.’
She laughed back. ‘I guess you’re right. I don’t live in a disaster zone, and I have a wonderful family who are all alive and well so, compared to these poor people, I guess I’m pretty rich.’
In his book, that made her a millionaire. The gap that had always existed between them yawned ever wider. Just one of the reasons their relationship had been doomed from the beginning. They couldn’t have had two more contrasting backgrounds if they’d tried. No wonder she looked at the world through Pollyanna eyes.
They trudged on, a companionable silence falling between them. ‘Your turn,’ said Holly.
‘Oh, no.’ Richard laughed.
‘Come on, Richard, I’ve just spoken non-stop for half an hour. Talk to me about something.’
‘Like what?’ he asked.
‘Tell me about your childhood.’
Great. Let’s start with something easy, he thought. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh, come on, Richard,’ she said, trudging around a rocky section of the track. ‘I already know it wasn’t the Waltons. We were an item for two years, I did manage to figure out some things. I hardly know anything about you. Indulge me. Did your parents divorce?’
Richard couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. She seriously thought that divorce was the worst thing that could happen? She wanted to know? OK.
‘My father was a wife-beater, my mother was a drunk. I raised myself. My father died in a bar brawl when I was twelve, and my mother drank herself to death a couple years later.’
Holly faltered. She’d had no idea. She’d occasionally seen past his tough-guy image and caught glimpses of hurt but this was so much worse than she’d ever imagined. When he had told her through tight lips that he’d come from a broken home she’d just assumed divorce. ‘Any brothers or sisters?’
‘No, thank God. That’s about the only thing my parents did right. I think the fewer children that were exposed to my home life, the better.’
‘So, you really have no family?’ she asked incredulously. She hadn’t believed him when he’d said so previously. She’d just thought he was estranged from them. How awful. How lonely.
‘I told you already. The army is my family.’ He heard the pity in her voice and couldn’t keep the curtness out of his. He didn’t need her sympathy.
Well, of course, the army felt like his family when they’d probably been the only true support system he’d ever had. They’d given him stability, safety and a shot at a career. And discipline and direction. More than that, knowing the man he had become, they had obviously also given him pride and self-esteem.
All the things that a family were supposed to give you but didn’t if you were a kid from a dysfunctional home. She was finally starting to understand him.
But the facts of the matter didn’t make his statement any less tragic. ‘Oh, Richard,’ she said, turning to face him, ‘that sounds terrible. So…sad. Why did you never tell me?’
‘I didn’t need your pity then, Pollyanna, and I don’t need it now. So don’t waste your tears on me. I like my life just fine.’
‘But there must be someone else. Anyone. Not just your job.’
‘Nope.’
‘What about your ex-fiancée? Surely she was your family?’ Holly held her breath. He’d refused to talk about her when they’d been together. Holly hadn’t even known until an army mate had let the cat out of the bag. ‘What was her name?’
Richard sighed and gave in. If talking about his personal stuff kept her going then so be it. ‘Tanya,’ he said. ‘She was very young.’
OK, so that’s where his age hang-up came from. Holly mulled that over for a bit. He’d obviously been stung badly once before. Why had he never told her this stuff? Why had he waited until they were marching up a mountain with trigger happy rebels? Damn his he-man façade.
Richard felt a resurfacing of all his old angst and was surp
rised it still affected him a decade later. Yes, Tanya had been young but he had handled it badly. He should have stuck with his gut feeling all along and realised that a guy with his background made lousy marriage material. Kept his distance. Like he had with Holly.
But Tanya had been so pretty and she had been crazy about him and he had desperately needed someone to love him and someone to love in return. He’d just chosen the wrong girl and it had been a painful lesson to learn.
Holly’s heart went out to him as she trudged along the track. How important would it have been to him to have made that relationship work? After the emotional void of his early years? She could sense his feelings of failure like a tangible aura.
‘So, what happened?’
Richard sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. He really didn’t want to get into it. But one look at her straighter back and quick, easy strides and he knew that he’d bare his soul completely if it distracted her from her pain.
‘She hated me being away with the army, which I was, quite a bit. I got posted to Darwin, which horrified her. I went up there to get settled and she was going to follow a little later. But I came home unexpectedly one day to surprise her, and found her in bed with another man.’
Holly gasped. Stupid girl! ‘Oh, Richard,’ Holly said, turning to face him, walking backwards. ‘What did she say?’
‘That it was my fault. That she was young and had needs and I was never around to fulfil them and no way was she ever going to move anywhere. And that it was over.’
Holly felt awful for him. ‘I don’t understand why you never told me any of this stuff when we were together.’
‘Why would I?’
Holly turned back to the track. She felt her sympathy evaporating. She was getting ticked now. Had she meant so little to him? ‘Because that is what people in relationships do, Richard. They share stuff like that.’
‘Not me. I only told you now to keep your mind off your muscles and keep you putting one foot in front of the other.’
Holly felt like screaming. He was still treating her like a child. But as she trudged on, silently fuming, she had to admit their chatter had kept her mind of her aching body. Half an hour later, with her muscles starting to protest again and the road ahead disappearing ever upward, she broke her miffed silence. She was going to have to talk to him or throw herself off the mountain. Neither alternative appealed.
