His to Protect

by Karen Rock

  Following Jacque’s point, she entered a narrow bedroom, the man a step behind her. A thin woman lay prone on the wood floor. Her eyes fluttered slowly and her chest rose as she gasped for air. Cassie dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers to the side of the woman’s throat.

  An erratic pulse.

  Worse, a thready one.

  “Eloise? I’m a nurse here to help you. Can you hear me?”

  The woman’s mouth sagged open slightly and a strangled sound escaped her.

  “What happened?” she asked Jacque as she ran her hands over Eloise, checking for injuries. Cassie’s shirt clung to her drenched skin. Sweat rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her collarbone.

  Jacque passed trembling fingers over his wrinkled brow. “We forgot passports when we evacuate. We come back for them. Eloise had the—ah, how do you say—burn in her belly and neck? She said not to worry, but it get worse. Then she fell.” He dropped his face in his hands and his shoulders shook.

  “Jacque. I need you to stay calm. For Eloise.” She fished a penlight from her pocket, opened the woman’s mouth and checked her airway. Open.

  “Her stomach and throat burning is acid reflux,” she continued, thinking out loud... Was the woman hypoglycemic? Epileptic? Reflux didn’t cause you to faint...affect your heart...unless—

  Her head snapped up. “Does your wife have a history of heart disease?”

  Jacque cocked his head, his expression blank.

  She pressed her hand to her chest. “Heart. Does your wife have heart problems?”

  “No. She is always healthy.” Jacque stared down at his wife, his features stiff.

  “Has she had chest pain recently?” She pressed on Eloise’s fingers, observing capillary refill time.

  He shook his head and pulled out a pocket handkerchief. After blowing his nose, he said, “Her teeth. All of them. On this side. They hurt. We need a dentist.”

  “So the whole jaw. Not just one tooth?” Her hunch might be right.

  Please let it be wrong.

  He nodded and his dense white eyebrows crashed together. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think I do,” she said, dread drumming deep in her gut.

  Acid reflux. Referred jaw pain. Shortness of breath. Diaphoresis. Classic symptoms of a heart attack in women, and often fatally misdiagnosed. She needed EMTs, an AED machine, nitro. Now.

  “Hang in there, Eloise,” she whispered in her patient’s ear. After giving her limp hand a reassuring squeeze, she shoved to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No!” called Jacque, his voice strained. How long had the poor man been calling for help?

  She pivoted at the doorway “I’ll be right back with help. In the meantime, keep talking to Eloise. She’s going to get through this.”

  Sprinting out the door, she skidded onto the street.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed for help. White air whirled around her as she turned in circles. Tamping down her panic, she could barely see her fingers. How would she find her way back to the resort and Red Cross station when she didn’t know which way it was?

  An innocent woman’s life hung in the balance. She damn well needed to find help. Fast.

  * * *

  “SHE LEFT THE station thirty minutes ago and never came home.”

  Raeanne’s words rang in Mark’s ears as he veered off the second track he’d tried since the nurse ran into him, worried about Cassie.

  His pulse thudded in his temples and his harsh breaths burned in his lungs. He’d sworn to protect Cassie and needed to find her. Fast.

  Dangerous possibilities clawed at his brain, shredding his thoughts as he imagined her wandering the storm-ravaged island alone.

  “Help!”

  Mark jerked to a stop. Strained to listen. Cassie?

  “Coming!” he hollered. “Keep yelling so I can follow your voice.”

  “What?” She sounded closer; he swerved left and forward.

  “It’s Mark.” His boots crunched over the debris clogging the road.

  “Mark?” she called, louder still, and he zeroed in on her location.

  “Yes! Stay put. Don’t move!” he ordered, his heart thudding hard enough to break a rib.

  And then he spied her.

  Blond hair fell around her gorgeous face, her large eyes doing something funny to his gut.

  “What are you doing out here?” He grabbed her, rougher than he should have. But a fierce need to feel her whole and safe in his arms seized him. Short-circuited his brain. He dropped his cheek to the top of her head, breathing in her honey-vanilla scent for a split second.

  “I’ve got a female heart attack vic in her late sixties, early seventies. Name’s Eloise. She’s in bradycardia and respiratory distress.”

  Mark yanked out his radio and called for assistance as he hustled after Cassie. Inside the precarious-looking house, he got right down to business. He knelt beside the alarmingly still woman.

  “Eloise. Can you hear me?” He gently shook the victim’s shoulder. He took her pulse and listened for respiration. A massive heart attack. Fatal possibly. His pulse quickened as he tamped down on his emotions and got ready to work.

  Go time.

  A man on the other side of the victim leaned over, his face nearly as gray as his spouse’s. “Eloise. Pouvez-vous m’entendre, mon amour?”

  “She’s not breathing,” Mark reported in the brisk voice he used in urgent, dire situations. It instilled calm. Got people moving.

  He glanced at a determined-looking Cassie, who quickly moved to Eloise’s head, saying, “Begin chest compressions.”

  He nodded, laced his fingers, locked his elbows and pressed down. When he’d finished his first set of thirty, Cassie tilted Eloise’s chin, pinched her nose and blew twice into her mouth before listening for a resumption of respiration.

  He held his own breath as he studied her, looking for a sign they’d revived the woman, though it was unlikely this early on. At last, Cassie straightened and shook her head. Other than a small line appearing between her brows, she looked calm. Prepared. Ready.

  Four more rounds of CPR and suddenly the woman’s eyelashes fluttered. A faint rasp emerged from her throat.

  “Patient breathing,” Cassie announced with her ear beside Eloise’s mouth.

  Cautious optimism built. He’d seen too many of these situations go south to give hope free rein just yet.

  He sat back on his heels and snatched up the woman’s wrist. “Pulse has returned. Rate—” he paused, glancing at his watch “—thirty beats per minute. Patient still in bradycardia. Arrhythmia.”

  Cassie nodded and he marveled at the steely set to her chin, the determined glint in her eye. Here was another side to the passionate woman who’d rocked his world then turned it upside down.

  “Veuillez, mon amour. S’il vous plait,” sobbed their victim’s husband and his sympathy went out to the guy.

  Suddenly, EMTs rushed into the room, along with Dylan, the crew member he’d radioed. Cassie stepped aside with him as the medics hooked the woman up to an AED. After a couple of jolts, the team deemed her stable enough to move and the entire group hustled from the home, Dylan guiding out the hysterical husband.

  “We did it.” Cassie spoke behind him as he watched the departing emergency crew.

  He turned and gazed down at her pale face. Even with her hair mussed and her eyes shadowed, she was still kick-ass beautiful and the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

  And damn capable, too. Her steady, levelheaded emergency response earned his appreciation and respect.

  Unable to resist, he picked up a lock of her hair and let it slide through his fingers. His voice was a soft growl. “I’m glad I found you.”

  Her gorgeous eyes met h
is, questioning. “Were you looking for me?”

  He nodded, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. It was their first civil exchange since the night they met and it felt good. “Raeanne, too. She told me you hadn’t come home after your shift.”

  She leaned her cheek against his hand for a moment then extricated herself and headed for the door. “He really loves her. Did you see his face when Eloise came back?”

  He studied her for a moment, reminded that Cassie was a small-town girl with values to match. She was only here out of the goodness of her heart and then she’d be gone again. He had no more business spending what felt like stolen time with her now than he had the night they met.

  “Yes,” he said gruffly. He cupped her elbow and steered her back into the street, their feet stirring the dissipating fog.

  An awkward silence swelled as they picked their way to the side entrance to the resort and its bungalows. The night was damp and still and the air heavy with moisture. Seagulls perched along roof lines, the only other signs of life on the empty streets.

  Love.

  With a father in jail and a mother too busy working three jobs to date, he’d only ever witnessed devotion like that once before. The commander who’d mentored Mark, Frank Gilford. He’d married his high school sweetheart and never left on a mission without telling her that he loved her first.

  Frank adored his wife.

  As for Mark, he probably wasn’t capable of love. Still, deep down he knew that on the remote chance it ever did happen to him, he’d be full-on committed like this man. If he fell, he’d fall hard.

  Cassie turned when they reached the weathered steps leading up to her bungalow. Her hand landed on his tensing bicep. “Thank you for helping me,” she said slowly.

  His gaze jumped to her soft face then swerved to the bleak sky. “You’re welcome. Good night,” he muttered and strode away without waiting for a response.

  Deep down he knew he wanted more than words from her. He wanted what he couldn’t have. Cassie, her beautiful body wrapped around him as he moved inside her.

  6

  CASSIE SIPPED HER tea in the makeshift nurses station the next evening and tapped in her email password on one of the newly erected field hospital’s shared computers. As it was one of the few devices on the island that was hardwired for internet after the hurricane knocked out Wi-Fi, it’d been in demand all day. Near the end of her shift, to her surprise, she’d found it unoccupied and decided to check in with her family.

  Immediately, fifteen emails from her mother caught her eye. The subject line of the first was a simple “Hi!” but things had escalated to “Are You Dead?” by the last. Didn’t her mother understand how difficult communications were? She had taken care to go over it.

  Guilt settled hard and heavy in her gut. She’d known her leaving would take a large toll on her mother, especially as it’d remind her of losing Jeff. Still, this was important. For the first time in her life, Cassie hadn’t let herself be swayed or stopped by her mother’s anxiety.

  She clicked on the last message and dropped her chin to her palms, elbows propped up on the desk.

  Cassie,

  I haven’t slept in a week. Why haven’t you responded to my emails? Are you safe? Eating? Getting enough rest? Staying indoors? I’ve been watching the news and the pictures are terrifying. Can you come home now? I don’t think I can last much longer.

  Love,

  Mom

  Cassie rubbed her throbbing temples then quickly typed:

  Mom,

  I have to keep this short because other people need to use the computer. But, good news! I’m alive. Even better, I’m safe. I’m sorry that you’re so worried and I don’t want you to get so sick that you have to go back to the hospital, okay? Please get some sleep and take care of yourself. I’ll be home really soon. Just another week until I can beat you at Monopoly like always. Better practice with Dad since I’ll be gunning for you :).

  I miss you and can’t wait to go home!

  Love,

  Cassie

  After logging out, she evacuated the seat for another eager internet surfer and headed for the sink to rinse out her cup.

  Can’t wait to go home, she’d written. She stared at her reflection.

  Liar.

  She didn’t miss home. In fact, being here was a relief from her mother’s ever-present, oppressive fear. Was it crazy to feel more relaxed in the middle of a disaster than surrounded by her mother’s frenetic energy?

  Probably. Even more insane were her nonstop thoughts of Mark.

  She dried her cup and placed it on a shelf before turning back again to pump soap into her palm.

  Yesterday, he’d been a man of action. Decisive. Certain. If not for his take-charge attitude that’d quieted a hysterical Jacque and steadied Cassie, they might not have saved Eloise. Yet he’d looked as shaken as she had once the rescue was over, showing a vulnerability that made him more human. More like the man who’d made love to her so passionately.

  Her body heated at the memory, a match for the warm water running over her sudsy hands. She rubbed her fingers together methodically, washing each knuckle, digit and nail. Diligence was priceless in her profession.

  If only she took as much care in her personal life.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about Mark.

  Grabbing a couple of paper towels from the folded stack, she dried off, stepped on the garbage pail’s opener and tossed them inside.

  She’d come on this mission to honor Jeff and his legacy. Not for romance. End of story.

  At least when it came to her and Mark.

  She shook off her thoughts and put on one of those smiles that wasn’t really a smile at all as she headed out to treat her last patient. Whirring ventilators sucked acrid air out of the large domed space. To the right, entrances opened to an OR, a radiology unit, a maternity ward and an ICU where she’d looked in on Eloise earlier this afternoon and noticed Mark departing. What a relief to see the woman recovering from open-heart surgery.

  After passing several beds, she reached her patient, PO1 Ian McClaughlin, one of the rescue swimmers who’d flown to St. Thomas with her and Mark’s crew.

  “Hello, Ian. Time for a dressing change.”

  The sandy-haired rescue swimmer opened his eyes, his expression clear now that the heavier pain meds had worn off. Light freckles stood out against his pale skin. A large bandage covered a six-inch gash on his cheek that’d taken almost a hundred stitches to close, according to the chart.

  “Cassie, right?”

  “Right. How are you feeling?” She glanced at him sideways as she unscrewed the top off the silver sulfadiazine then grabbed a pair of gloves from a nearby box.

  “I can handle it.” His lips twisted in a wan smile and he held out his hands.

  After checking his facial wound for infection, she carefully lifted the foam from each finger. She studied the abrasion burns he’d received when a severed, frayed hoist cable ripped through his gloves before slashing his face.

  “You’re brave.” Holding a basin beneath his hands, she washed the raw, blistered skin.

  “Just doing my job.” His matter-of-fact tone caught her off guard. Didn’t he bear any resentment? During the morning report out, Cassie had learned that the crew he’d worked with the night before—which flew opposite shifts to Mark’s—had had to return to base without him when they couldn’t repair the equipment before running out of fuel.

  “Were you upset when the helicopter left you?” Using a sterile cloth, she patted his fingers dry.

  Ian stared up at the ceiling and shook his head. “They had to follow procedures or put the entire crew and the survivors we’d just rescued at risk. I wouldn’t want that. No swimmer would.”

  Cassie imagined Jeff and knew, as sure as sh
e knew anything, that he would have felt the same way. Was it possible that safeguarding others played a bigger role in Jeff’s tragedy than the actions of a heartless pilot?

  “But weren’t you worried?” she persisted, needing answers, hoping she didn’t push the injured swimmer too far.

  “I knew they’d be back.” His jagged voice rose.

  She smoothed on the ointment, one part of her brain hyper-focused on her job, the other part adrift with Jeff. “How did you know?”

  “We’re brothers,” he said proudly. “A family. We always have each other’s back, don’t abandon each other.”

  “But what if they didn’t find you in time?”

  They left Jeff at sea. Her hands trembled as she wrapped fresh dressings around Ian’s fingers.

  But they had come back for him...too late.

  Could the crew—could Mark—have viewed Jeff this way...a brother lost at sea? If so, Raeanne’s comments about Mark being broken up, unable to fly, made sense.

  “If they didn’t rescue me, I’d have ridden a wave to the end, a true brother of the fin, right?” He gave her a cocky grin before growing serious again. “We don’t do this job for glory. You know our motto, right?”

  She nodded, her throat swelling. “So others may live.” Jeff’s Facebook wall, plastered with the saying, flashed in her mind’s eye.

  “Every day that I jump in the water, I accept that I might not come out. What’s important is giving my all and saving others. As long as I do that, I’ll be proud, right up to the end...”

  Suddenly, it was too much. “Excuse me,” she choked out then dashed up the aisle, fighting back her tears.

  After a report out, she bolted outside, gusty air cool on her burning cheeks. The worst images she had imagined of Jeff alone in a furious ocean howled inside her.

  Then, like the eye of a storm, her shaking muscles stilled and a new picture rose, slightly out of focus. Jeff, no longer scared but calm.

  Hurrying toward her housing unit, she told herself to get her head together. Make sense of the kaleidoscope images that shifted and spun, making her dizzy.