Captive of Fate (3 page)

“That we enjoy them? I can’t deny one word of it. Go get cleaned up, and quit looking like I’m going to pounce on you or something.”

She felt human again after she got cleaned up with the aid of a small bar of soap and Colonel Breckenridge’s olive green washcloth and towel. Taking her small suitcase, she pulled out a set of well-worn jeans and her only pair of socks and canvas shoes. The room was quiet except for the constant chatter of the radio transmissions drifting through the thin wooden door. She turned her back away from it, slipping off the damp blouse and bra, drawing a thin sweater over her head. It would be just like him to come in unannounced, she thought. God, how he provoked her! She hated his cool logic and his constant sniping at the political people she worked for.

His “bed” was a sad-looking affair. Alanna left him one green blanket and took the other one and the sleeping bag. She placed them strategically in the corner opposite his huge pack and the remaining rumpled blanket. Taking a mirror out of her purse, she tried to decide what to do with her drying hair.

She noticed dark circles beginning to appear beneath her large green eyes and touched one hesitantly. She was exhausted, although fighting with the Colonel seemed to increase her adrenaline, and the cold water had washed away some of her tiredness. Trying to make the best of the situation, she sat cross-legged on the floor and patiently parted her long hair, then wove the strands into two thick braids, tying the ends off with rubber bands she carried in her purse. Her stomach growled, and she looked up toward the door, frowning. Where could she get something to eat? Groaning, she got up, realizing she would have to talk to Colonel Breckenridge,
again.
Trying to put a choke chain on her temper, she slipped out the door and walked over to the desk where he sat.

For an instant, Alanna felt her heart tighten with compassion for him. He was resting his head in one hand, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he studied a map in front of him. Gone was the mask that he seemed to hide beneath. Instead, the lines of weariness were accented at the corners of his narrowed eyes and around his mouth. He sat up, inhaling deeply as she quietly approached him. His eyes flared briefly with an unknown emotion as he took in her form.

“I didn’t know you could work miracles,” he murmured, putting the compass on the map.

“What do you mean?” She sounded defensive again. Damn. She was beginning to understand that if she lost her temper with him, it only made communicating more difficult. Alanna tried to compose herself and forced a smile she did not feel.

“You look like the girl back home,” he commented, motioning toward her braids. “A farm girl from Iowa or some small Midwest town. None of that better-than-thou Washington stamp on you any longer.”

“You mean less sophisticated?” she asked, restless beneath his hungry look.

“No, you still have class. That would show through no matter what you did or did not wear.”

Alanna blushed scarlet, and she automatically touched her cheek, put off balance by his unexpected, brusque compliments. “Colonel—”

“You’re very pretty when you blush, Alanna. Feel better now that you’ve got on some dry clothes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, nervously shifting her feet. “I’m afraid to even ask if there’s food available up here. Is there?”

“If you’re a refugee from the village or part of the relief effort, yes. There’s a small chow hall in operation at the end hut on the northern perimeter of the base.”

“But I’m not a refugee, am I?” she growled back, understanding his faultless logic.

“In a sense you are. Thrown completely out of your element into a set of circumstances that you’re unprepared for.”

“I’m not some poor, lost waif! If you’ll just tell me where I can buy some food…”

“Right now, with supplies running low, there isn’t any amount of money that will buy food.”

She raised her eyes skyward in reaction. “What do I have to do to get some food!” she asked tightly. “Would it go better if I begged?”

Matt shook his head. “You wouldn’t make a very convincing beggar, lady.” He slowly rose, as if stiff. He flexed his right shoulder in a rotating motion, frowning.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she blurted out, before she could stop her concern from expressing itself.

“Hmm? No. Old wound. It gets cranky when the weather is damp and cold.” He studied her. “It’s nice of you to care, though. That’s a new twist for a political dove from D.C.”

Alanna seethed inwardly, gritting her teeth. “God, you’re so distrustful of my every action!”

Matt laughed, picking up his poncho and shrugging into it. “I have a hard time trusting any politician. Were you born a liberal, I wonder?”

“Don’t make fun of what I believe in, Colonel. I won’t change my views or ideas for food or shelter. Just because you’re a born soldier, that doesn’t give you the right to be rude to me.”

“Maybe you’re right. I owe you an apology. Why don’t you go settle down, and I’ll rummage around the chow hall and get something to eat for both of us. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Anyway, we need to get some food into you so you won’t look so damn skinny.”

Alanna grudgingly admitted he was right on one point: she was skinny. It was a result of the long hours she put in at the senator’s office. Trudging back to the small, barren room, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and lay down on the inviting sleeping bag. Rolling the other blanket into a makeshift pillow, she closed her eyes for just a moment. Her thoughts spiraled around Matt Breckenridge. Despite their arguments, she found herself inexorably drawn to him. He was nothing like Paul. Just the opposite in fact. Paul was so distant, so detached that she doubted he knew what it was to lose his temper. And she had never lost hers in those years either. Now, with this Marine officer, it was like the Fourth of July every time they got within ten feet of one another. Paul had taught her to control her emotions. But Matt Breckenridge actually seemed to enjoy her outbursts. She sighed loudly, utterly confused and drained by the day’s events. She didn’t mean to, but she plunged into a deep, healing sleep almost immediately.

A
lanna moaned, partially aware of a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently awake. She rolled over on her back, sleepily opening her eyes. Matt Breckenridge’s concerned face came into view in the darkness. She frowned, almost frightened by the shadows that played across his strong, masculine face as he watched her.

“Uh,” she groaned, slowly moving up into a sitting position, “what time is it?”

“Twenty-one hundred, or 9 p.m. to you civilians,” he said with a half-smile. He rested back on his haunches, frowning. “You all right? You look pale as hell.”

Alanna sleepily rubbed her eyes, pulling the blanket around her for warmth. The room seemed damper and colder as she looked around. A small kerosene lantern sat in the corner, giving off a weak semblance of light to the room and an odor that made her wrinkle her nose. “Yes—I’m fine. Just terribly tired.”

“So it’s true what they say about Senator Thornton, then. He works his people likes slaves.”

It was a statement. Not a question. Groggy and too weary to throw up her usual barriers of defense, she said, “I already put in seventy hours this week. Usually it’s only sixty.”

He shook his head slowly. “No wonder you’re underweight. Don’t you have anyone who takes care of you?”

A knot formed in her throat, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “I can take care of myself.”

“Well, you need someone to help you expend all that energy you have,” he answered gruffly, getting to his feet.

Alanna yawned, still wrapped in the euphoric embrace of awakening. The Colonel seemed infinitely more gentle now, and she felt herself relaxing for the first time since they had met. His booted feet sounded hollowly against the floor boards as he stopped and squatted back down in front of her. “Here’s dinner,” he said, handing her a Marine Corps issue mess kit. “When I got back, you were sleeping like there was no tomorrow. I decided that you needed sleep more than food. It’s cold but palatable.”

She took the lightweight metal plate, staring at the heaping amount of food piled on it. “There’s so much!” she protested softly, giving him a stricken look. “I don’t want to take food from the survivors.”

He sat down by her, pulling up one leg and wrapping his arms about it, giving her an odd, searching look. “You’re sincere, aren’t you?”

She set the plate down on her lap. “Yes. Of course.”

“Good. It becomes you. Maybe you’re not the typical Hill politico after all. And don’t worry, I didn’t pull this food out of the starving mouth of some refugee. Now be quiet and eat.”

Occasionally she glanced up at him as she wolfed down the food. It consisted of refried beans, corn mush, and a small piece of fried Spam, but it tasted delicious. To her own surprise, she ate every morsel. “I guess the mountain air improves the appetite,” she offered sheepishly.

He took the plate, setting it by his side, and met her smile. In the gloom, he looked haggard and drawn, and Alanna wondered how long it had been since he had slept. “How are things going?” she inquired.

“Let’s put it this way, Murphy’s law hasn’t got anything on us at the moment,” he commented wryly.

Alanna laughed gently. “The axiom about ‘if anything can go wrong it will’?”

“Yes. And there’s an extension to that law: ‘nothing is ever so bad that it can’t get worse,’ and that’s exactly where we’re at right now.” He rubbed his forehead in consternation, staring off into the bleakness. “The fog is thickening, and the chief meteorologist in San Jose is projecting that it’s going to hang around for two more days before we get some clearing.”

Alanna crossed her legs, resting her arms on her thighs. “But you mentioned you were trucking up the supplies earlier.”

“The trucks can only go so far and so fast. With choppers we can zip in and out, pick up the worst injuries, and have them down here for initial medical help in no time. I’ve got ten cases that require surgery, and now they’re going to have to be carried over five miles on a stretcher to the jeeps, then bounced over these mountain roads to the hospital. Or, I can leave them up there waiting, and they might die during the night.” He glanced over at her, his eyes broadcasting his undisguised concern. “Truck or auto is no way to transport people who need emergency medical treatment. They can die of shock in a matter of hours.”

“You sound as if you know a great deal about it.”

He shrugged, staring back into the darkness. “I’m a paramedic.”

“I didn’t know Marine officers practiced medicine,” she commented, looking at him in a different light. The senator had always accused Breckenridge of being a bloody warmonger after a high body count. This was the second time that Alanna saw that claim refuted. He was an engineer who built structures and a paramedic who saved lives.

Matt shut his eyes, resting his head on his arm. “I was in a special contingent of the Marine Corps.”

“What was that?”

“Recons.”

Alanna felt genuine compassion flood her breast. He seemed so drained. In the pallid light, his skin looked taut and washed out. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with them.”

“Most people aren’t. It’s a special branch of the Marine Corps that is molded into a crack surveillance unit to penetrate behind enemy lines. The reconnaisance information gained can be very important when our troops have to engage the enemy. We recorded troop movements for a period of five to ten days and then helicoptered out to the safety of our own lines. In a way, Recons save the lives of many men.”

She shivered. “It sounds awfully dangerous.”

“It can be.”

“Is that why you became a paramedic, then?”

“Each member of the Recon team had to be a specialist in some field. I picked the medical end.” He raised his head, rubbing his face slowly. “At least there was some honor in trying to save a life instead of having to take one.”

She looked at him strangely, wondering at the softness in his voice. “I don’t understand.”

He smiled almost bashfully. “I delivered six babies while I was over in Nam. It sort of made up for the rest of it…. It gave me a clean feeling. Bringing life into the world instead of only watching it being taken.”

“You delivered babies?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Alanna withheld her comment. It was a cruel one that he didn’t deserve. He met her gaze fully, assessing her silently.

“You wonder how a trained soldier like me can revel in giving life rather than taking it, don’t you?”

She trembled inwardly, suddenly tearing her gaze away from his weary features. How frighteningly honest he was. And how accepting he was of her less than compassionate view of him. It had to hurt him to see the way she stereotyped him because of the career he had chosen. Her brows drew downward, and she refused to answer, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. The moments lengthened uncomfortably between them, and she licked her lips.

“Does—doesn’t it bother you that people are repelled by your profession?”

“It used to when I was younger. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve been through so much in such a short period of time, it’s easy to separate what’s really important in living and what is not.”

“You make it sound as if you went through hell.”

He managed a patient smile. “Everyone has his or her own conception of hell, Alanna. Take yourself: you view this experience as hell. There’s no bed, no hot water, very little food. To me, this is luxury. I’ve spent too many years sleeping on the hard ground, in water-filled foxholes or in trees hiding from the enemy. A wood floor and a sleeping bag seems like heaven.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “So you see, hell is a relative term, depending upon your past experiences.”

“Obviously,” she agreed quietly, gaining new and increasing respect for him, regardless of what the senator had said. He wasn’t trying to cajole her or twist her thinking. And she knew it. Alanna was almost positive he rarely talked this way to anyone, and that knowledge confused her. She was his enemy. She was out to ruin his military career by proving he was a smuggler. Guilt twinged at her conscience as she watched him. There was a quiet calmness that emanated from him as steadily as a beacon shining in the darkness. A depth of peace and a rock solidness that made her feel protected. And if something did go wrong, she knew Matt would do everything in his power to save her.

She jolted herself back to reality. What on earth was she doing? He was no knight in shining armor on a white steed. Alanna, you’re too old to allow romantic thoughts to sway you from the position you’ve taken, she chided herself.

“Look,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m going to try to catch a few hours’ sleep. Are you warm enough with these?”

“Yes. Will you be warm enough? I mean, you’ve only got one—”

Matt rose, ambling over to the corner and shutting off the kerosene lamp. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Good night.”

She snuggled back down into the wiry wool blankets, pulling her legs up and curling into a kittenlike position. She heard him unlacing his boots and setting them on the floor. Soon, quietness pervaded the small room, and only muted voices in the next room and the constant sharp static of the radios interrupted the silence. Some time before she returned to sleep, she thought she heard the softened breathing of Matt Breckenridge and knew he had finally found an edge of peace in sleep.

*

Alanna awoke slowly, feeling drugged and groggy. Voices, low and urgent, became intelligible as she struggled out of the stupor. She forced her eyes open. A wedge of light slipped through the partially opened door, and she focused her attention on the whispered conversation.

“Matt, we’ve got to get up there….”

“What are the weather conditions, Cauley?” he mumbled.

A sigh of exasperation broke from the other man. “The same. Dammit, we’ve got three children up there that were just found under a fallen structure. Two are seriously injured, and the third is close to death. If we can get a chopper up there and—”

“You’re asking me to risk one of only three choppers, plus you, the pilot. I won’t allow it, Cauley. It doesn’t make any sense to lose one-third of our aircraft for an emergency flight in below-minimum conditions. Use your head.”

“Matt…please…dammit, one of those kids is only four years old! I can fly it. God, how many times did I fly you and your team in and out of worse situations? At least we aren’t getting shot at this time. I can do it. I know I can. Give me the chance!”

Alanna froze, holding her breath in anticipation of Matt’s answer. She was wide awake now, tortured by the urgency of the pilot’s plea.

“Cauley, this isn’t war. And I know you’re a crack pilot. What if I lose you? Do you know how long it will take to get a replacement? I don’t have that kind of time. And what if you do crash? I’ll have to take part of my men and search for you. I need every man I’ve got. We’re short-handed and short on time. I can’t afford to lose you, Cauley. If there wasn’t this rotten weather, I’d okay it.”

The pilot rose. “You owe me one, Matt,” he growled softly. “I’m collecting it now, buddy. I picked up your men against orders with Cong on both flanks and your backs to the river. You owe me. Six men were saved then. Let me try to save three lives now.”

“You went against
my
orders,” Matt gritted out, rising to his feet. “I don’t owe you for that one, Cauley,” he breathed harshly. Silence settled between them for tense moments. “Dammit,” he said finally, “why is it always children? Look, you get Blake on the radio up there, and tell him we’re going to try an emergency landing. Tell him to fire a green flare when he hears us and then ring the landing zone with red flares. Get Corporal Travis to alert the medical unit up there that we’re coming in for those kids.”

Alanna heard Cauley laugh softly. “Thanks, Matt. Just like old times, isn’t it? Nothing in our favor and everything going against us.”

“Yeah. Old times,” he agreed flatly. “We’ll try once, Cauley. And if we don’t make it in, we’re coming home…if we can get back.”

Cauley slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Breckenridge, but a hell of a Marine.”

Alanna sat up, studying him as he entered the room, yanked on his boots, and picked up his jacket. “Are you going?” she breathed huskily.

His head jerked up, and he stared across the room at her. “You heard?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it. Is—is there anything I can do?”

He laced the boots quickly. “Yeah, bring some sanity back into this whole goddamn situation.” He moved fluidly to his feet, pulling on his heavy jacket and jamming the hat down on his head. Alanna stood, uncertainly clutching the blankets to her body.

“Then why are you doing it?” she demanded.

He halted abruptly in front of her, his eyes narrowed and intense. “For the kids. What else?”

“You could be killed.”

He managed a cutting smile. “Would you miss me?”

She sobered, her throat aching with tension. “Yes,” she admitted softly, avoiding his startled look.

He threw his hands on his hips. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered and suddenly reached out.

Alanna felt his hands upon her arms, gently drawing her against his hard, masculine body. It was so natural, so elemental. Her body rested against him fully, aware of his musky male odor. His mouth, strong and demanding, came down on her lips. He moved insistently against her, parting her lips with a ferocity that left her breathless and stunned in its wake. His hands tightened, pulling her suddenly closer. An explosion of fire seemed to go off in her spinning head. Her senses thrilled to his touch as his mouth softened against her pliant lips, becoming more gentle, coaxing. A small moan of pleasure sounded deep in her throat. She lost all sense of time and place, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his jacket, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

She felt his mouth withdraw from her throbbing lips, and she leaned heavily against him, trying to reorient herself. Slowly, he lowered her to the floor. Her pulse raced as she gazed wide-eyed up at him, her heart contracting in her breast as she saw the hungry, undisguised desire ignited in his gray eyes. But there was a surprising look of tenderness there, too. He managed a small smile, reluctantly releasing her. “Lady, you are an incredible paradox,” he whispered huskily, and then his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”