Hard Core (Onyx Group) (4 page)

Alana hoped it wasn’t ill-placed. She couldn’t bear another
failure.

Getting rid of her bodyguards proved even more difficult.
After a few minutes of arguing, they shuffled out of her hut and left her alone
with her patient. She didn’t miss the angry glances they cast at her neck on
the way out. She might not have been born into the tribe, but they protected
her as one of their own. When her patient woke up, he owed her a big
thank
you
. She’d saved his ass twice now.

Cristian tossed restlessly on her bed. He flipped onto his
back and winced in his sleep.

Alana sighed and walked over to him. She stopped a foot away
to stare down at the man who had attacked her. Her neck hurt and her head
throbbed where she had hit the wall, but she pushed the discomforts away, knelt
beside him and placed a hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she murmured. “How am I going to get
you to take your medicine?”

In reply, he twisted away from her and groaned when he
landed on his infected side. Stubborn, even in delirium. He was going to make a
miserable patient.

A wry smile touched her lips. Well, he’d met his match with
her. Doctors made the worst patients in the world, so she had him beat
hands-down.

Alana rose to her feet and collected the supplies she would
need to prepare for battle.

* * * *

The war began that night.

Alana held Cristian’s stubbly jaw with one hand and dropped
two tablets onto his tongue with the other. She reached for the water that sat
on the workstation she’d set up next to the bed to make things easier. Thus far
it hadn’t been too bad. Cristian burned with fever and tossed restlessly in
bed, but he hadn’t fought her until now.

Practically lying on top of him, Alana brought the glass to
his lips. His skin burned through her clothes. His fever worried her. She had
no ice to cool him down and the jungle was hotter than him, offering no relief.
The cool cloths she’d covered him with all day did little to help.

“Swallow for me, soldier.” She pressed the rim of the glass
to his lips. He bucked beneath her, spilling some of the water down her arm.
Alana slid her free hand beneath his head and lifted so she could pour a small
amount into his mouth.

The instant the first drop touched his tongue, he went
still. With a frown, Alana looked down to find him looking at her. The swelling
had gone down above his eye and left it ringed with black bruises.

By the dim light of the lantern, she saw confusion swimming
in the icy blue of his eyes, glazed with fever and pain. He reached up and
covered her fingers with his, bringing the glass back to his lips.

“Easy there, soldier. Slow down.”

He finished the water and fell back on the pillows, brow
furrowed.

Alana set the glass aside and sat up so he could move
freely. Not that she’d had much control over him. He was much bigger and
stronger than her, even in his condition.

His gaze dropped to her neck and turned glacial. “Should
shoot the bastard that did that.” Then his eyes rolled back and his head fell
to the side.

“Yeah, I just might,” she muttered and rose to her feet with
a grimace as new aches and pains made themselves known. Thank God there were no
needles here. She didn’t think she had the energy for another attack.

Too tired to think, Alana pulled a chair beside the bed and
settled on it. She let her head fall back and her eyes drift shut. A few
minutes of rest, that’s all she needed. A good thing, since that’s all she got
before her patient woke her with an anguished curse that brought her out of her
chair with a start.

“Cold,” Cristian muttered, reaching for the covers.

His fever had spiked, causing shivers. The jungle cooled at
night, but she slept with no more than a couple blankets, which he’d already
soaked. Despite her misgivings, she climbed in bed beside him and pulled him
into her arms. Right now he needed body heat more than she needed to listen to
the voice in her head that told her he was a dangerous man. He immediately
sought her warmth, his body hot against hers.

Eyes closed, he repositioned her so they were spooned together
on the small bed that had always been more than adequate. Now it felt narrow as
a toothpick. Her patient took up more than his fair share of the space. His arm
came around her waist. The other cradled her head while his body pressed
intimately against hers. Within seconds, she warmed from the heat of his body.

It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a
man. Cristian reminded her how much she missed a man’s touch, even if the man
touching her didn’t know what he was doing.

To her dismay, she realized she didn’t want to move. Guilt
flooded her, made her chest tight as she strived for an explanation. He was her
patient and she would do whatever it took to save him. That was her job and she
was dedicated to all her patients. She would do this for any of them. But, none
of them made her blood rush through her veins or her heart pound an irregular
beat. Doctor-patient boundaries had never been an issue before. She was a
professional.

Then why was she still lying here?

Cristian nuzzled her neck, snuggled closer, seeking her
warmth. The bristle of his unshaven jaw rasped against her skin and set her
belly on fire. His hand opened on her waist, his fingertips brushed the
underside of her breast. She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes squeezed shut.
She should get out of bed. Find more sheets to warm him.

Yet, as his breath shuddered over her neck and stirred her
hair, she remained in place. Lightly, his thumb circled her nipple. It hardened
instantly. Her breathing quickened, her back arched, silently telling him how
much she liked this. With a low growl he nipped her neck where the pulse beat
wildly and she gasped, her body aflame.

Her breath came in quick gasps through parted lips. Alana
didn’t stop him when his hand slipped lower to trace the waistband of her sleep
pants. Her blood coursed through her veins, her body was primed. This had never
happened before, not with any other man she’d ever been with. She shouldn’t,
but she wanted to know more of the pleasure, wanted to beg.

His hand slipped inside, caressed past the barrier of her
panties. The feel of him made her moan, long to feel him inside her, move
wantonly against him and urge him closer to what she wanted so badly.

He found her center and stroked gently, skillfully took her
to heights she’d never known existed. She refused to think about what she was
doing and who did it to her. All she wanted was this pleasure she hadn’t known
in a long time.

Her hips moved against his hand and she buried her face in
his crooked arm to smother a moan. He touched her like he had done this a
thousand times before. Like he
knew
her, knew how to touch her, tease
her, control her. Her body no longer belonged to her, but to him

She teetered on the edge, waited for him to take her over as
his lips grazed her ear.

As she whimpered a plea, he whispered in her ear, “Come for
me, Mariette.”

Mariette?

Alana stumbled out of bed and stared in revulsion at the man
lying there.

Who the hell was Mariette? She raked a shaky hand through
her hair and glared at the man who slept soundly in her bed. He was out cold
and she was ready to detonate. She’d allowed a stranger in her bed, under her
clothes, and she’d been ready to take what he offered. In delirium. To top it
off, he’d called her by another woman’s name. If that didn’t make her the
world’s biggest fool, she didn’t know what did.

God, what was wrong with her?

She smoothed down her shirt and walked across the room so
she could splash warm water on her face, using the moment to collect herself.

After drying with a towel, she straightened and drew in a
slow, deep breath. How had she let things get so out of control so fast?
Impulses had never been something she gave in to. She’d never been so consumed
with lust that she’d given herself to a stranger.

A stranger who didn’t know what he was doing.

Mentally berating herself, Alana pushed away from the table
and after a glance at her patient, slipped out the door and sat on the step.
The night air cooled her skin, cleansed her troubled soul.

The communal bonfire had burned down as it did every night.
It crackled and popped in the distance, serving as heat, light, and a deterrent
to predators. Only the animals of the night were up, and they no longer scared
her. At least they killed for a reason. There were worse things in the jungle
than wild animals.

She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples.
She’d almost made a big mistake tonight. One she couldn’t make again. For some
reason she was vulnerable with Cristian. And for that reason she could never
tell him what they’d almost done and the power he had over her.

Another secret she would take to her grave.

“You need some rest, let me sit with him.”

Alana shook her head at her father. She placed a fresh, cool
washcloth on her patient’s forehead. Guilt had prevented more than a couple
hours of sleep. What she’d done, allowed Cristian to do, was unacceptable.
Morally. Ethically. Personally. If they’d been in the States, she’d have her
license revoked and be brought up on charges. What had she been thinking,
allowing a patient to touch her like that?

A patient associated with Gavin Ross.

“I’m okay, Dad. You’re busy. I can handle this.”

“You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. You need to
recover from your injuries the same as he does.” His gaze dropped to her neck.

Alana rubbed a hand over her sore throat. Actually, it had
been almost thirty hours, but she wouldn’t tell him that. He worried too much
already.

“I caught a couple hours last night.”

Her father’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder. A
surgeon’s hand, only now it lacked the strength it once had. “I know you,
Alana. You’ll forget your own health for another’s. Please, let me take over
for an hour while you go clean up. I won’t use any needles on him.”

The offer appealed. She could use a trip to the waterfall
and a pair of clean clothes, but she didn’t trust her patient to behave. Her
father wasn’t the man he used to be, his body frail and weakened. Cristian
could really harm her father, and she wouldn’t take that chance.

He had been restless all night, mumbling about contracts and
names of people she couldn’t pronounce in languages she had never heard.
Mariette’s name came up a time or two, along with tender words whispered in
French. She hadn’t expected anything gentle or tender to come from him. The
fact that a small streak of jealousy shot through her at the mention of his
lover only made the situation worse.

She must be tired, to be jealous over a woman she’d never
met and a man who’d tried to strangle her. It was irrational and ridiculous and
driving her slowly crazy. Add raging hormones from last night’s interlude, and
she was a mess.

“I think I will take you up on the offer. I could use a few
minutes alone.”

Her father patted her shoulder. “Go. I’ll take care of him.”

Alana rose to her feet with a wince as muscles protested.
“He can get restless,” she cautioned. Cristian better not harm her father. She
just might have to shoot him like he’d suggested.

Her father gave a wry smile. “I can handle him. Go on, take
your time.”

She collected a change of clothes, towel and brush, and
slipped into the sweltering heat. Before anyone could stop and question her,
she ducked out of the village. She knew people were curious, if not fearful,
about the stranger in her hut, but she wasn’t up to explanations or
reassurances. Right now she couldn’t offer them any assurance. The man in her
bed wasn’t ordinary, and the names he spouted off were from all over the world.

She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

The crystal clear water of the pond worked wonders on sore
body parts and helped clear her head. She took her time, floating lazily,
letting her thoughts drift. But they always seemed to come back to the man in
her bed, not allowing her a moment’s peace.

Frustrated, Alana climbed out of the pool and dressed. She
sat down on the grassy bank to brush the tangles out of her hair. What was it
about this man that kept her from thinking of anything else? He’d almost killed
her, for God’s sake. She should have let the men of the village have him, maybe
then she’d get some rest.

No, she wouldn’t, she groused and tugged hard on a snarl.
Something about the tormented way he moaned Mariette’s name haunted her. Who
was she? And why did he call out to her in his sleep as if she were lost?

No, not going there. They had a patient-doctor relationship.
Period. She wouldn’t care. None of her business. Crossing the patient-doctor
barrier was not only frowned upon. It was forbidden. Here, on this island, she
wasn’t in danger of losing her license or being brought up on charges, but that
didn’t mean she could break her moral code. What would her father think if he
found out she had climbed in bed with a patient?

To lose his respect would destroy her. It was the reason she
would never tell him her secrets.

Alana gave up on the tangles, pulled her hair back into a
ponytail secured with a piece of leather. So much for R and R. She was more
keyed-up now than before.

She picked up her things and made her way back to camp.
Maybe a nap would improve her mood. That and finishing what she’d started last
night. Her body was hyper-aware, sensitive. An unsettling reminder of the line
she’d crossed last night. A line her body still wanted to leap over.

What was she supposed to do with that?

To avoid being seen, she followed the jungle to her hut and
slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her father sat beside the
bed, one of her murder mysteries in his hand. To her dismay, her patient slept
soundly.

“How did you do that?” She scowled down at Cristian.

Her father looked up, eyes twinkling. “We had a talk. Man to
man. I think we understand each other.”

Alana deposited her things on the small, wooden table. “Oh,
really? And how did my delirious patient respond?”

“A grunt or two, but I’ll take him at his word. How can you
read these books?”

She smiled. The supply plane brought her books every time it
came. They were the one thing on this island paradise that connected her with
the outside world.

“Mom always liked them. I guess she got me started.”

Her father’s expression turned soft. “She did, didn’t she?
Loved to stay up at night reading them, even when they terrified her.”

Alana nodded with a smile. “I used to sleep with her on
nights you were at the hospital. I think I started reading them in bed with
her. It seems so long ago.”

“Not that long.”

Alana let the moment pass. “How is he?”

“Fever’s still high. I changed his dressing. Nice job
stitching the wound, by the way. Are you able to get the antibiotics down?”

“Barely, but yes. Pain relievers, too.”

“He’s a difficult one. He fights every step of the way,” her
father said thoughtfully, his gaze on the man in her bed.

He had no idea.

“You didn’t get any rest. I can sit here a while longer.”

In her current state, she wouldn’t get any sleep. Her mind
raced in too many directions. “No, that’s all right. Can you pay a visit to
Keika and the baby for me?”

“I will. Have you eaten?”

“A couple hours ago. I’m fine for now. How about you, did
you eat?”

He nodded. “Some. Enough.”

Trying not to show her concern, she picked a papaya out of
the basket on the table. “Here, I don’t really like these. I’ll trade you for
your mango.”

“I don’t have any mangoes.” Her father took the fruit from
her hand. “You’re just like your mother and it never worked with her either.”

She grinned. “Got you to take the papaya, didn’t I?”

His grin matched hers. “I’ll eat it after I visit Keika.
Sure you don’t want to take a nap?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“All right. Ask for help if you need it,” he said pointedly.

She rolled her eyes. He always said that to her. She didn’t
like to ask for help. Better to do it herself. “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

He left the hut quietly, papaya in hand, and Alana turned to
her patient. She was geared and ready for battle. This time she wouldn’t climb
in bed with him, no matter how therapeutic. He’d have to settle with blankets.
She would pack him in mud before she made that mistake again.

She refilled the basin that sat beside the bed, soaked a
washcloth, wrung it out, and placed it across his forehead. The warmth of his
skin heated the cloth instantly so she soaked it again and started over, dabbed
tiny beads of sweat over his upper lip and paused when his lips parted on a
groan. She didn’t want to cause him more pain.

Her father had redressed the wound, but his pain meds were
wearing off.

She’d managed to get a couple down him before he clenched
his jaw and refused any more. A man this stubborn in sleep could only be
impossible awake. She felt sorry for Mariette, having to live with a man like
this.

“Are you real?” His husky voice drew her attention from his
lips to his eyes, which were open. They pierced straight through her.

Alana smiled and pressed the cloth to his cheek. “I’m the
real thing, soldier.”

His dark brows furrowed. “Not a soldier anymore.”

“Then what are you?”

She couldn’t be sure if he knew what he said or not. He
still burned with fever, his skin flushed, and pale.

His frown deepened. “A mercenary.”

Her hand froze on his forehead as a chill skittered down her
spine.
An assassin?

“A mercenary, huh?” She soothed his frown with a gentle
swipe of the washcloth. “And what would a mercenary be doing on an island in
the middle of the Caribbean Sea?”

His eyes closed. “Fulfilling a contract.”

He sounded sincere and Alana was hard pressed not to believe
him. A mercenary? What were the chances? It didn’t make any sense. Why would
Gavin Ross need an assassin when he had all those guards? Who was the contract,
since he was the one beaten and wounded and wearing a guard’s uniform?

Or maybe he was delirious and spinning tales.

“I see,” she said to humor him. “And after you fulfill this
contract, where will you go?”

“The mountains.”

“Which ones?”

“Rockies.”

She had never been to the Rocky Mountains. They had taken
family vacations all over the world when she was a child, but never to the
mountains. Boston was a long way from the Rockies.

“I hear they’re beautiful.” She dipped the cloth in the
basin and touched it to his neck.

“No place like them in the world.” His eyes were still
closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. “Peaceful.”

She had a place like that here on the island, could relate
to what drew him to his special place. Did Mariette wait for him in the
mountains? Did she keep his bed warm while he was away?

Alana pushed the thoughts away before the green-eyed monster
attacked. She moved the cloth to his jaw. “You’ll have to tell me about it
sometime.” Her hand brushed over the dark stubble. He needed a shave. Maybe
while Cristian slept, she would borrow her father’s shaving kit. He was much
too sexy like this.

He didn’t answer and she knew she’d lost him again. Tired,
throat sore, she put the cloth away and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she’d
close her eyes for a couple minutes...

“Alana? Do you have a minute?”

Alana opened her eyes to see her father standing next to
her. How long had she been out?

“Sure, what is it?” she asked, straightening.

“The tribal elders are meeting tonight. About your patient.”

She nodded. The elders had to decide whether Cristian was
safe or not. This was where she and the elders would come to a disagreement.
They both had obligations and it was doubtful they would see eye to eye.

Alana nodded and rubbed her forehead. “They’re worried Gavin
Ross will bring his wrath down on us for helping this man. They’ll decide
tonight if we should turn him loose or not.”

Her father nodded. “He was beaten and shot. Ross wanted him
dead. He isn’t going to be happy you saved him.”

“I know, but we don’t know the circumstances, not
completely. He wore a guard’s uniform, but how can we be sure he’s one of
them?” His clothes had been two sizes too small. She remembered thinking it odd
when she removed them, but his injuries had caused her to forget until now.

Alana glanced over her shoulder at the man who slept in her
bed. He looked dangerous with his dark stubble and stark features. Her father
had everyone’s best interests in mind, but she couldn’t give Cristian up to the
murdering bastard. She didn’t care who he was or why he’d been shot, he didn’t
deserve the fate of Gavin Ross. No one did. She’d make sure no one would fall
at the hand of Ross again. A steep price to pay, but she would do it. For the
people who had taken her and her father in and treated them like family when
they needed it most.

“He’s already put bruises on you, Alana,” her father pushed
on. “What do you think he’ll do when he wakes up?”

“He didn’t know what he was doing. Besides, phobias are
irrational. We can’t blame him for that.”

“That’s my point. A man out of control is a man not to be
trusted. I have to look out for you, not him. Why do you always defend the ones
who don’t deserve it?”

Alana stood and wrapped her arms around him. His muscles
were tense, his frame frail.

“Because someone has to. I appreciate your concern, I really
do, but I won’t let him go until he’s healed. What kind of doctor would I be if
I didn’t?”

Her father’s arms tightened around her. “You have your
mother’s tenacity,” he said softly. “She used to win all of our arguments.”

“You two never argued.”

“I learned quickly she wasn’t a woman to cross when she set
her mind to something.”

The tenderness in his voice made Alana smile. “You know
she’s up there cheering me on.”

Her father sighed. “I fear you’re right. One condition,
Alana. I want your promise.”

Alana leaned away and nodded. “Okay.”

Serious now, her father said, “Promise me you’ll let him go
if you get in over your head. He’s not like us, Alana, he’s dangerous.”

She kissed his cheek. “You have my word.” Though she didn’t
believe she’d ever have to carry through. Regardless of what Cristian did
outside the here and now, she was bound to him and she would do what she had
to.

With a nod, her father left. Cool night air washed through
the small hut as he closed the door quietly behind him.