Hot Zone (12 page)

She swallowed hard, touching his chest. “All right, then. Thank you for letting me know so I won’t bother everyone else, but you could have just whispered a warning through the curtain. Have you gone crazy or what?”

“Just worried about you.” He unholstered his gun and set it on a shelf along with his glasses before moving closer, the spray soaking his head.

Sniffling, she shifted uneasily, the shadows in the corner playing peekaboo with the sleek body he knew intimately well.

“You should go,” she said. “You’re getting your scrubs wet.”

“At least they’ll be cleaner.” He braced his hands on the steel poles on either side of the curtain. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“This isn’t like you.” Frowning, she traced one finger down the leather of his shoulder harness on the shelf. “You’re not exactly an impulsive man.”

“Is that a problem? Like now?” He captured her hand in his and squeezed gently, trying to offer comfort. Trying to keep his eyes on her face and not on her nakedness. “I know you’re upset and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.”

She smoothed his damp hair. “I love you as you are, always. You know that, right?”

“I do.” He stepped closer, unable to resist the draw of her. His hands fell on her shoulders, warm and slick under his fingers. “Although I’m not always sure why.”

Her chin quivered as she swayed forward. Her naked body pressed against him, a perfect fit as always. “I just need to hear that you love me too, no matter what.”

Water beaded over her shoulders, trekking a sensuous path around and between her breasts.

Worry fragmented as his eyes took in her caramel, rich skin bathed in the glow penetrating through the mesh overhead. Droplets glistened, begging him to taste every inch of her. All the frustration of the past couple of days, of the weeks prior to this trip, gnawed at his gut, demanding an outlet. Somehow time and tension had stolen a month from them since they’d made love. And maybe it was crazy—maybe
he
was crazy—he needed to have his wife.

Aiden dipped his head, kissed her, gathered her nearer, his hands spanning her waist and lower. She melted against him with a soft sigh and he growled his approval into her mouth. His hands glided lower until he cupped her bottom, lifting her against him until she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He knew this wasn’t wise, and it wasn’t at all the way he allowed himself to behave. Losing control had never been an option for him. But right now he could feel his world spinning out of control and damned if he could do a thing other than hold on tight to the woman he loved. Because, God love her, she was holding on to him every bit as tightly. Always, always she’d been there for him. His fears the week before they’d come here must have been misdirected edginess from the adoption—

Shit.

He didn’t want to think about the adoption or his missing son. He needed to ease the tension inside him before he snapped.

Lisabeth clung to his shoulders, kissing her way along his jaw, over his ear, until her face was buried in his neck. “I love you, Aiden, so much.”

“I know, baby, I know.” All he needed to do was inch down his pants and he would be inside her slick damp heat. She would be all around him. His wife. The honest-to-God love of his life, something he’d never expected to have…

The woman he’d vowed to protect.

His skin chilled and it had nothing to do with the water. His head fell to rest on her shoulder.

“Lisabeth, we can’t. I don’t have a condom”—his breath came out in ragged huffs—“and since all our luggage got lost, your pills are with it. We can’t risk pregnancy, especially not now.”

He twisted off the shower and yanked the fresh scrubs off a high shelf positioned out of reach of the shower’s spray. Her chin quivered, which sucker punched him so hard he almost caved and hauled her back to him again.

Then her jaw jutted and she yanked the clothes from his hands. She jerked the top over her head, tugging the hem over her hips. “If you feel so strongly about this, why haven’t you just gotten a vasectomy?”

Her question stunned him almost as much as the fierce anger in her hissed words. “I realize you’re upset, but the last thing we need right now is to fight with each other.”

“Why would you think we’re going to argue?” She stepped into the pants, her hands jerky, angry. “We never quarrel. Ever.”

She whipped aside the curtain and stormed out, leaving him standing in waterlogged clothes. He should be pissed off, but he was still so shocked by what she’d said he didn’t move. Why hadn’t he gotten a vasectomy?

And why hadn’t she ever mentioned it before, unless she was secretly hoping he would change his mind on not having biological children?

“Dude?” an impatient voice cut through his thoughts.

A soldier covered in mud stood waiting, looking every bit as exhausted as Aiden felt.

“Sorry.” Aiden picked up his gun and glasses.

“Yeah, well, as long as you left some warm water in there.” He stepped back for Aiden to walk out, water squishing from his shoes. “Your lady went that way, toward the chow hall.”

The soldier slid into the shower. Aiden looked at the food tent, then toward the bunks where he and Lisabeth had side-by-side cots in a warehouse full of rescue workers. He didn’t even have to think twice about where he had to be right now to keep his sanity.

Aiden made tracks back toward the church, to the waiting patients.

***

Moonlight glinting off the rolling waves, Amelia rinsed her face and hands in the surf while Hugh constructed a lean-to for them to sleep under for the night. She’d offered to help, but he’d said he could work faster on his own if she would keep an eye on the kid.

Joshua was toddling in hyper circles in the sand, glad to be walking after a day constrained. Hugh had wrapped the child’s feet in leaves from banana trees to protect his soles. His diaper had been soaked, so she’d washed it and his tiny T-shirt in the ocean and draped them over a stretch of limestone to dry. There was something so endearingly innocent about a naked baby splashing in a little tide pool.

The day with Hugh had been so surreal—the fight in the van, the trek through the jungle, and now setting up a site for them to sleep together like some family on a camping trip. Except they weren’t a family. This wasn’t her child. Although right now he looked so heartbreakingly happy and perfect, her chest hurt over the dreams she’d once stored up about having babies.

Her eyes tracked back to Hugh. He spread foliage on top, mostly more banana leaves. He’d called the structure a hide site, designed more for evading than comfort, in case Oliver’s people decided to come after them.

Joshua toddled over to the small camp. Amelia pushed to her feet, her body creaking with exhaustion as she trudged across the sand. “Joshua? Come back here, sweetie.”

While Hugh had carried the child all day, there was no missing how uncomfortable he was around the boy.

Joshua clapped his hands, babbling and pointing.

Hugh frowned, reaching into a small pile of fruit he’d gathered. “Are you hungry? Banana? Is that what you want, kid?”

“B’ana?” Joshua tipped his head to the side, salt water still glinting off his dark hair from his tide pool bath. “No, no.”

He pointed to the mango.

“Yeah, right. Here.” Hugh peeled it with a knife, carved a slice and passed it to Joshua, so obviously careful to keep his distance.

She dropped down to sit beside them wearily and reached for the mango and knife to finish feeding Joshua. Hugh reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of plant stems. “Aloe. Just break each stem open and squeeze the liquid on your face. It’ll ease the burn. I’ve also got some bay geranium. It’s good for itching skin and even makes a decent tea. Let me know if you need it.”

“The aloe’s great. Thanks.” She snapped open the squishy stem and pinched the liquid onto her finger. She smeared it over Joshua’s cheeks before turning her attention to her own face. “You’re good at the whole shelter-building gig. After all we’ve been through, you’ve handled everything that’s come our way. You’re obviously in the right line of work. Was anyone else in your family in the military?”

“Not a one. I was a regular Middle America farm kid with dreams of traveling the world. I even got an appointment to the Air Force Academy…” His voice trailed off as he tossed aside a branch.

He’d been on the path to become an officer?

She passed another slice of mango to Joshua. “What happened?”

Hugh dropped to sit beside her, hands on his knees, watching the little guy eat, with eyes so full of… pain? “My girlfriend and I weren’t as careful as we should have been. We got married and became the parents of a beautiful baby girl.”

He said it so simply, so few words, but such a depth of emotion packed into each one. There could be no missing how very much he loved his family. And no married man with a love that deep had sex with another woman in a closet. Something had gone very wrong with his beloved family.

Waiting for him to talk seemed wisest, but her hands trembled as she offered the last of the fruit to Joshua. The little fella shook his head and crawled under the lean-to, testing out a stack of leaves in the corner. Amelia looked sideways quickly and realized Hugh was watching along with her.

“I had a daughter.”

Oh God. Please let this just be a divorce story, not what she feared was coming. “Had?”

“For five years… Then… She… They…” He swallowed hard, looking down.

But she didn’t need the words. She made her living reading the undercurrents in what people left unsaid. His wife and child had died somehow and the pain she saw in his eyes was beyond bearing.

She touched his foot lightly, uncertain how much comfort he would accept but unable to do nothing. How strange to know his body so intimately and his soul not at all.

Scraping a hand over his face, Hugh continued. “When my daughter was in preschool—about four years old—she woke us up one night in a panic because she’d forgotten to tell us she needed a rock for class.”

Waves pulled at the shore just as the tension radiating from him pulled at her while she listened, just let him talk.

“I promised her we would get one in the morning, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. So my wife and I went out to the backyard to see what we could find.” He looked at her for the first time, his raw eyes reflecting the moonbeams. “Did I mention we lived in Alaska and it was December?”

She smiled because he seemed to need that from her, but her insides burned with an ache for where he was going in his mind. Her hand fell to rest on Joshua’s back as he settled on the leaf bed, curling up with heavy eyes.

“My wife held the flashlight while I shoveled through the snow. I was determined my little girl would have the
best
rock in class. After tossing aside a half dozen ‘inferior’ stones, I found the perfect one—probably weighed about five pounds.”

Her hands circled on the baby’s back, the moment so quiet, and heavier than that five-pound rock.

“So the Christmas program rolled around. We walked in to find this table set up with a display of all the kids’ art-project gifts for their parents.” He cut his eyes at her, a smile tugging at his face so beyond perfect, it took her breath away. “They’d made pet rocks.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered, falling so hard into those eyes and that nostalgic grin from a world she’d never known.

“Yeah, the table was full of tiny painted cats and dogs and cows. And right there in the middle was my girl’s boulder, completely unrecognizable. It had glitter and feathers and blobs of paint. The label called it a pet gerbil.”

He laughed, shaking his head and she laughed with him, even though God help her…

Hugh Franco broke her heart.

He stirred up the sand at his feet, scooping and dumping, scooping again. “She and my wife died in a plane crash.” Sand drifted through his fingers. “Tilly… my daughter’s name was Matilda, and my wife’s name was Marissa.”

She looked into his eyes and for once hated the instincts that allowed her to perceive so fully what lurked under the surface. She’d thought of Hugh as Superman, going all the way to the edge, risking his life again and again for others.

And now she realized that he pushed himself to the limit out of a grief-filled need to chase his family to the other side.

Throwing the Jeep into park beside the burned-out van, the Guardian leaped out from behind the wheel, engine idling in the crisp morning air. “What the hell?”

The utility vehicle was nothing more than a blackened hull against the palm tree, also charred. The pyre had offered a beacon to locate the missing van even when communications from Oliver and Tandi ended.

And speaking of Oliver and Tandi…

The Guardian sidestepped a log, work boots crunching along the foliage, and pressed a hand to the still-warm door frame and looked inside. A burned corpse was slumped in the front passenger seat, horridly disfigured. Unidentifiable. Nothing but melted flesh over bones remained.

The Guardian whispered a string of curses before walking around to the rear of the van. The back was empty, other than exploded glass from incinerated crates.

Damn
it.

Informants had already clarified that there’d been a screwup at the hospital that resulted in the wrong child being taken. Something about the wrong file attached to the wrong basinet or playpen or whatever the hell they were using. The whole system was a hodgepodge mess, with patients dying, new arriving, faster than a makeshift, understaffed hospital could handle.

Excuses.

Punishments would be doled out later. Right now? Nothing mattered but ensuring the safety of the child they’d taken and protecting the identity of the organization.

A groan sounded from inside the bushes. A quick search through the leafy green underbrush showed… Oliver bound by his hands and feet, lying on his side. His face was bruised, his eyes both angry and fearful.

“What the hell is going on here?” A ridiculous question to ask, since the man was gagged with his own bandanna. Tearing off the hemp ropes and swiping away the rag from Oliver’s mouth, the Guardian asked again, “What happened here? Where’s the little boy? And the woman?”

When the van exploded, had Tandi or the extra woman they’d picked up died?

“Tandi… They…” Oliver swallowed and swiped his wrist across his mouth. “Tandi is dead. The others… got away.”

Got away? This wasn’t making sense. But the clearing was disturbed, undergrowth trampled from lots of foot traffic. And where were Oliver’s weapons? “You and Tandi were both overpowered by a woman with a child?”

Oliver stood slowly, stretching after being bound for so long. Except his unease seemed to be rooted in something else, something more. His eyes darted around like two bees unable to settle on a flower. “She, uh, had a man with her.”

Anger simmered through the confusion. “When you picked up the child, you kidnapped a woman and a
man
? And you didn’t bother to tell me this when you and Tandi checked in.”

He rubbed his neck. “The man got into the back of the van as we were driving away.” His words picked up speed. “We tried to control him with the gun, but he rushed the front of the van and…”

“You screwed up.”

“He was military, trained; there are soldiers crawling everywhere around here.” Oliver stepped closer, tipping his head confidentially while eyeing the wreckage site even though there clearly wasn’t anyone alive to hear. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time and we should put our runs on hold—”

The Guardian whipped out a gun and leveled it at his big, fat, incompetent head. “
You
don’t decide who and when. We’re needed now. Our troops are needed now. And I’m wondering if you even have the same goals anymore, if your motivation for taking the woman was… less than necessary.”

Oliver started shaking, his lying eyes wide. “No, I would never—”

The gun pressed deeper. “Did you take the woman because you had to or because you wanted to? What did you intend to do with her?”

The stench of sweat, the smell of fear, radiated off Oliver’s skin as his mouth worked soundlessly.

“Don’t even bother answering. I can see it in your traitorous eyes.”

The bastard.

The Guardian pulled the trigger.

***

Hugh checked and rechecked his guns until he felt like his teammate Bubbles. Going through the motions instinctively helped restore order to his mind after a long night keeping watch to make sure no stray animals—or people—found their camp.

Although that was the easy part. It had been much tougher tamping down thoughts of the past he’d dredged up for God only knew what reason.

He’d all but opened a vein last night, pouring out more than he had to anyone. He still wasn’t sure why he’d said as much to her anyway. There was something about her, had been from the second he looked into her cornflower blue eyes. But he didn’t have it in him to go there again, especially not so soon.

Today, he needed to hold it together better as they approached “civilization” again. He lined up the weapons, his knife and Oliver’s. His 9 mm and the two SIG Sauers from the van. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t need to use them. But between the wild animals running loose in the jungle and the lawlessness running just as out of control, he couldn’t be too careful.

With luck, by noon they would arrive at the outer city limits. Once there, he would notify someone with security forces to pick up Oliver and question him. To find out what the hell had happened back at the hospital.

And then he would get Amelia and Joshua the rest of the way to the security of town—and onto the first military cargo plane out of here.

He tucked his 9 mm back in the holster and one of the two extra guns in his vest. His knife was strapped to his leg. The others would go to Amelia. He trusted she would do what she needed to if necessary. If she’d had one or the other back at the hospital, he felt certain she would have used them to protect Joshua.

His eyes slid to the little boy on the beach. The first rays of morning stretched over the seaside patch of sand. Joshua ran in figure eights through the sand, his diaper in place again, the tiny T-shirt on his body again. The palm tree and bird spelling out
Bahamas
. He’d almost worn out his leaf shoes already.

Amelia scraped her hair back and used a strip from the edge of her scrubs to tie it in a short ponytail at the base of her neck. They were grimy, sweaty, and essentially how he would expect after this impromptu nature hike without much in the way of gear. He was used to conditions like this. He’d been filthier on missions. Although Amelia… she’d been hanging tough but he didn’t know how much more she could take before collapsing.

“Amelia,” he called, waving her over. “We need to regroup before we head out.”

Her head tipped to the side, she picked around seaweed and driftwood washed up on the shore. She stopped in front of him. “Yes?”

“I should have given these to you yesterday.” He passed the SIG and the knife. He also scooped up the gun belt he’d taken off Oliver. “Do you know how to use them or do you need a quick how-to now?”

She took the weapons from him carefully. “I can handle them well enough, thank you.”

“Good, then.” He stroked her cheek, wanted to do more, but the time wasn’t right.

The discussion about his wife and daughter was still too fresh. He willed her to see in his eyes his need to keep things level.

She leaned into his hand for a split second before backing away with a curt nod that bobbed her scruffy ponytail. “Let’s get moving then.”

Kneeling, she stretched out her arms for Joshua.

Hugh reached between them, a hand on her shoulder. “We already covered this yesterday. I’ll carry him.”

She looked up at him with those pure blue eyes, and he saw written sympathy for every word he’d said the night before. Even if he didn’t mention it and she kept quiet, his baggage was still hanging out there between them. In fact, as silent as he’d stayed about it over the years, it was still there, biting him all the time. Pushing him. Leading him to take risks that put other people in danger if they had to haul his butt out.

He scooped up the kid and tucked him into the backpack sling. The little guy didn’t protest as he had the day before, but he still wasn’t giving in completely.

Amelia took up her walking stick and gestured for him to lead the way. “Talk to me about your—”

He tensed.

“—your job. The pararescue mission.”

He snatched up the chance to talk about anything else as handily as she snagged two bananas left from their food stores of last night.

“We train for rescue missions—land, sea, mountain. There are only three hundred of us.”

“Sounds like a movie title.” Grinning, she tucked her walking stick under her arm and peeled a banana.

“You’re poking fun?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be suitably impressed with my kick-ass profession.”

“Like a groupie?” She pinched off a piece of the fruit and passed it to Joshua as she walked. “There are groupies, I assume.”

“There are people impressed with the uniform, more so than the actual mission, the calling,” he conceded.

“To rescue airmen and other service members. I think I read somewhere you motto is something like…”

“‘That others may live.’”

“Heavy stuff. Honorable. And very lucky for people like me.” She smiled her thanks again, before continuing, “Given that you’re here, you’re obviously called in during natural disasters.”

“And smaller-scale civilian rescues on occasion.” He studied her gait, wishing she had boots like his rather than the simple gym shoes she’d been given at the hospital. “We also work with NASA during water landings in case of emergencies. We work with SWAT and the FBI.”

“You’re in Florida now?”

“Florida, Japan, Alaska twice…” His mind traveled back through the years to that first assignment after training. His first tour in Alaska. With Marissa and Tilly.

“But you’re in Florida now.” Amelia snapped him to the present again with her crisp, no-nonsense voice.

“Technically, although we haven’t spent much time there. We were in the Middle East until a couple of months ago.” While most people looked forward to homecomings, he would have preferred to skip that part, all the happy family reunions.

“You must be ready for some downtime.”

He looked ahead, steering her past a thick overgrowth of poison ivy. The kid did not need exposure to that. At least the dust was thinner here than in the city.

“I’m not much into vacations. Too boring for me. What about your job?” He wanted to hear, and how strange was that? They had this in reverse, sleeping together and then doing the bar-style pickup conversation, getting to know each other. “You have a high-pressure career of your own.”

“Go ahead and get the lawyer jokes out of the way.” She peeled the remaining banana for herself. “I believe I’ve heard them all, but you’re welcome to give it your best shot.” She bit the top off with a wicked smile.

Was she playing with him? “I wouldn’t be so rude.”

“Then I’ll go ahead for you…” She danced ahead of him, walking backward along the sand. The landscape stretched ahead with trees and more trees hemming them in, closing off any view of the city still miles away. “There are only two lawyer jokes, you know.”

“Really? Only
two
lawyer jokes?”

“That’s right.” She winked. “The rest are true.”

Her words jolted a laugh out of him. Beyond not coddling him this morning, she’d managed to do what not many could at times like this. She made him smile. “You have a sense of humor about yourself. That’s rare.”

“Believe me, in this profession, you have to laugh or you would go crazy.” She turned away, walking ahead with her stick in front of her again, stabbing at bushes. “People lie…”

She jabbed. “And they lie.”

Again Amelia jabbed. “And they lie some more. Even upstanding people flinch at telling the complete truth. I can spot bullshit a mile coming.”

“You still haven’t told me why you became a lawyer.”

“And I don’t have to tell you.” She glanced back with another of her glittering smiles, but there was ice in her blue eyes this time.

“Ah, lawyer skills.” He couldn’t resist jabbing too, with words. “You get me to spill my guts, then you don’t say a thing.”

“No one forced you to talk.” Her whisper drifted over her shoulder, the edge carrying something else he recognized well.

Pain.

“You’re right. You didn’t.” He lengthened his stride and walked alongside her, the soft sand giving under his boots. “My apologies.”

“No”—she glanced up at him—“I’m sorry. We’ve gone past the holding-back stage, I think.”

“Getting naked—or almost naked—together does take away certain boundaries.” And just that fast the air crackled between them, the awkwardness that he’d caused last night finally—thank God, finally—easing.

“I was thinking more of the life-and-death thing, but whatever.”

“Ah, that’s right. The sex meant so much to you that you walked away before I could pull up my pants.” That stung now even more than before.

Her hand fell on his arm, soft and cool against his sunburned skin. “That wasn’t very nice of me. I’m sorry again.” She reached past to tickle the chin of the kid squirming in the pack. “I don’t do so well with relationships these days. The past has a way of dogging a person, you know.”

That he did. He reached back to pat the wriggling kid’s shoulder. “You would blame all men because your ex was a jerk?”

“Are you really sure you want to have this kind of conversation?” Her feet slowed, her smile fading. “I got the impression this morning that you want to keep things lighter…”

That he did.

He grasped the shift in conversation with both hands and settled on the first topic that came to mind. Easy enough, with the kid grabbing hold of his ears tightly. “Your parents must be excited about their first grandchild.”

The air went thick, heavy with more than humidity. He ducked under a branch.

Her hand slid from her nephew and she stepped over a turtle lumbering across their path. “My mother doesn’t speak to my brother and me anymore.”

Surprise slowed his stride for a step. “And your father?”

“Is dead,” she said unemotionally, smoothing a hand over her pulled-back hair as if to restore… composure?

“I’m so very sorry.” He wasn’t sure what to read into her flat tone, her stiff spine. Her ponytail barely moved she was so in control of her every movement. “You must miss him…”