SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (44 page)

Her dark eyes widened in surprise. “You cannot be here!” She said in English, no less.

Luke held up a business card. “Tell Dr. Morno that Luke Carter from the Guardians is here.”

“Guardians?” She snatched the black card from his hand. When her fingers grazed his, she pulled back in alarm and dropped the card on her desk as if the card had bitten her.

“That’s the name of my company…” He read her nametag. “…Deolina.”

“What do you want wid her?” She studied him as if he had eight legs.

It had to be at least ninety degrees inside the clinic and he would have killed for an ice cold bottle of Bud. “Page Dr. Morno. Please.”

“I do not like it. None of it,” she said with a huff. “You wait.” She pointed to the seating area.

He walked out of her cage.

All fifteen patients were looking at him again. Where would these people go when he closed the clinic doors? Who would help them?

He squashed the spreading guilt. The money spent here would be redirected to save other lives, most importantly his daughter’s. Making his way to the back of the room, he leaned against a lime colored wall and waited. And waited. Time dripped like tar. He assumed the receptionist, Deolina, had sent him straight to the bottom of her list. He’d be lucky if he saw Dr. Morno this century.

A door opened and a young twenty-something guy in pale-green clinic scrubs came out. He rushed toward Luke saying, “You there. Don’t move.”

Luke noticed the kid’s lip was pulled up in a snarl and his eyes were angry enough to shred skin. “Are you talking to me?” He read the nametag. “Tico?”

The kid’s heavy-lidded gaze raked over him as if he was the stupidest American he’d ever had the misfortune to glare at. A wild mass of dreadlocks, barely tamed by a thick, pink rubber band curled about his head like a living thing trying to hang on. Tico was small, barely five-foot-six, tough and lean.

“You’re the only one demanding to see the doc who ain’t dyin’”—his gaze scanned over Luke’s suit and rested on his luggage—“yet. Why are you here?”

“Business. Here’s a wild and crazy idea, why don’t you talk to the receptionist and tell her that I refuse to wait any longer.”

“
Tell
Deolina?” Tico’s eyes widened. “Nobody tells Deolina nothin’ she don’t already know. The doc ain’t expectin’ you, chief. And she’s busy. You better go home.”

“That’s it!” He hadn’t traveled this far to be blocked by a cocky kid and a receptionist with an attitude. Luke popped off the wall, crossed the room to the metal door with the
NO ENTRANCE
sign, and started pounding.

A claw-like grip seized his shoulder. “This is a clinic, man.” Tico motioned with his head toward the patients sitting in hard plastic chairs. “These people don’t want trouble.”

He narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Dr. Morno. Now.”

“I’ll take you to her office through the back entrance.” He lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think that you’re seeing the doc first just ’cuz you banged on the door.”

Luke shrugged on his backpack, slung the laptop bag over his right shoulder, and patted the pouch with his passport, tickets, Visa, and money hanging inside his shirt. Like a domesticated pack mule, he followed Tico’s lead.

Tico pulled him by the elbow out into the blinding sunshine and around the corner of the building. “See that door?”

Luke squinted. “Through the alley?”

“That’s the VIP entrance, chief.”

The stench of rotten food and hell-knew-what filled his nostrils. He breathed through his mouth to avoid smelling, until he realized he could taste the stench. He put his fist up to his nose.

The movement drew Tico’s gaze to his watch. “Hey, that’s a Rolex Submariner, isn’t it? What’d it run you? Ten G’s?”

Luke wasn’t about to discuss the cost of his watch with the kid. “It was a gift.”

Tico lifted his chin. “Must be nice having rich friends.”

“Can we move it?” He picked up speed, determined to get through the back door without breathing.

Tico caught up. “You a big shot, chief? A tough guy?” He flashed Luke a grin that could have meant anything or nothing.

He kept moving, wishing he could shake the kid once and for all.

A loud bang behind an overflowing trash bin made him jump. Whatever was shuffling around back there sounded big. Man-sized big. Luke backed up slowly having no intentions of coming eye-to-eye with the kind of rat a Haitian alley produces.

That’s when Tico’s boot arched up and kicked him in the crotch.

“Son…of…a—” He should have seen it coming. Bent over Luke looked up into the eyes of a madman.

“How do you like your scrambled eggs?” Tico erupted in laughter.

He didn’t. When he was able to recover, he was going to show crazy Tico just how much he didn’t like it. For the moment he was going to focus on not passing out.

Someone clubbed him across his backpack. Air exploded out of his lungs and his legs crumpled. Face down on the filthy pavement, his things scattered all around him, Luke tried to comprehend. Tried to breathe. A strange sound wheezed from his chest. His lungs were on fire.

Crazy Tico brought friends.

He searched for a weapon. A stick, bottle, knife? No luck. He grimaced. There’s only one thing to do when you find yourself up shit alley—he jumped to his feet and took a swing. And then another. Luke’s right buckled Tico’s legs. His foot to Tico’s gut knocked the air out of the kid and sent him reeling backward.

Something solid connected with the pack on Luke’s back. Several thugs circled him, yelling words he couldn’t understand. They poked him. Taunted. Playing torture the American.

Old SEAL instincts took over. He’d been in worse spots before. Of course, he had a team of SEALs beside him then and wasn’t alone. Never alone. Hell, he wished Mack was here. Luke charged, ramming his shoulder into one guy’s solar plexus and smashing him hard into the trash bin. With the crack of cartilage, Luke broke the guy’s nose. His jaw was soon to follow. The guy screamed gibberish and Luke was suddenly yanked back by his backpack.

Spinning, he sized up the gang. No guns. One guy had a knife. The others were clenching their fists. Strangely, Tico backed up as if his heart wasn’t really in it. Good. Three guys in the fight, one crying in pain from his broken nose, one knife, one crowbar. Okay odds for a SEAL. Too bad he hadn’t been in a good fight in years.

Fists, feet, words flying at him. He fought back, hard. His fists were slick with blood. His mostly. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and kept punching, blocking, kicking, jabbing. Holding his own.

Fire sliced up his leg. He took a quick look down and saw his blood darkening his suit pants. Too fast. He’d been stabbed. If the bastards cut his femoral artery…He felt weak and dizzy. Suddenly, the odds weren’t great.

The gang pummeled him to the ground, taking turns kicking him. He got to his feet once and made it worth the effort until the crow bar knocked the air out of his lungs. He was shoved back down onto the pavement. He tried to roll out of the way but it was impossible. He was trapped.

Tico yelled. “Pinga. Rolex!”

A knee slammed between Luke’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the jagged asphalt and the watch was yanked off his wrist. He threw his arms over his head and yelled for help. They kicked him harder. Blood filled his mouth. His ears rang.

They were no longer playing.

Luke grabbed the foot of one of his assailants and twisted. The guy yelped, hobbling away. Retaliation was a punishing kidney shot. Luke swore in agony.

Sunny’s pretty face popped into his mind. Dear God, his beautiful daughter. If the bastards killed him, she’d be alone in this world. He couldn’t let that happen. Anger surged through him.

He struggled to get up. “I’m going to rip your arms off…” he growled, blood bubbling in his mouth.

The other kidney got it.

He made it to his hands and knees. “…and beat you…upside your ugly…”

Someone stood on his leg and ground on his Achilles tendon.

“…heads!” he screamed.

“I’d like to see you try, tough guy.
This
is for Dr. Morno!” Tico said.

The rounded toe of a boot connected with Luke’s temple. Pain exploded through his brain like shrapnel, turning out the sun.

*

“Dr. Morno?” A
nurse knocked on the door and peeked into the lab. “Sorry to interrupt, but Tico’s in the alley killing himself a white man.”

“What?” Ysabeau’s heart stopped. “Not again.” She raced out the glass doors yelling to the receptionist, “Deolina, call an ambulance!”

She hadn’t thought to be afraid. Tico was tough and headstrong, but she knew she could talk sense into him and get him out of whatever mess he’d stepped into. Rounding the corner, she got the surprise of her life—Tico wasn’t fighting one man, it was a savage gang beating. Over and over three men hit someone who was already unconscious. Maybe dead.

She’d never seen anything like it in her life. Bile rose in her throat. “Stop it!” she yelled. “Leave him alone!”

Tico was standing away from the others holding an object up to the sunlight. A watch? He blinked at her with surprise. “Dr. Morno?”

The others resembled a pack of blood-thirsty animals. Repulsion and terror rolled through her. When they turned their faces toward her, she saw no remorse, no fear, only hatred raw and pure.

Backing up slowly, she steadied her legs for the race into the building. She was in big trouble. She’d become a witness to assault and robbery at best, murder at worst. They couldn’t afford to let her live.

“The police…” She fought to control her voice. “…are coming.”

“You called them, lady? We thought you were cool,” one of the gang members snarled. He had a scar across his lip and black, black eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at his blood-splattered fists.

“Police are not cool.” A small teenager swaggered toward her. His eyes were dancing with excitement. She wondered if he’d killed before.

“Hey!” Tico yelled. “Leave her alone!”

“Who’s gonna make us? You?” The third snickered. He was big and the scariest of them all. He reminded her too much of another bad man who attacked her. A shudder of revulsion rolled through her and her legs went weak.

They circled her.

Concern for the beaten stranger quickly became terror for her own life. “Please…just go,” she begged.

“No one calls the cops on us,” the teen said. “Not even a pretty lady doctor.”

“I said leave her alone!” Tico lunged toward the others.

Ysabeau screamed and ran for the building. She’d never make it before they caught her. They were younger, stronger, and faster than she was. Their shoes pounded the pavement just behind her. They’d be on her in a second.

Shock flashed in her brain. This is how her life was going to end? After all she’d been through?

“Help me…!” She yelled.

The teen caught her by the arm. He smiled at her triumphantly. “Hold still pretty doctor.”

“No!” She struggled to pull away.

“Dr. Morno!” Tico yelled from far, far away.

A siren blared from the boulevard. The gang members froze. It was her chance.

“Help!” Yelling as loudly as she could, she yanked her arm free. She tore through the teen’s grasp with such force it knocked her off-balance. She fell to her knees.

Panic flooded her veins. She had to get up…had to…run! But her legs didn’t work properly.
Please, please!

Ysabeau crawled as fast as she could toward the building that seemed a thousand meters away. She was sobbing now, knowing exactly what was going to happen to her in this alley. “Don’t hurt me!” She braced for the first blow.

The siren wailed, echoing down the alley.

There was a flurry of movement and noise behind her. Something poked her in the back and she screamed again.

“Dr. Morno! It’s okay.” Tico touched her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

Ysabeau glanced behind her. He was right. “They’re gone?” She blinked in amazement.

The police sirens were growing softer.

“Let me help you up,” Tico offered.

She batted away his hand and rose to her feet on quivering legs. “Will they come back?”

“No.”

She wasn’t going to die in the alley. But Tico might. She punched Tico in the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Me?” His face was awash in surprise and hurt as he rubbed his shoulder.

Muttering under her breath, she wobbled down the alley toward the stranger in the very expensive, very bloody suit.

Tico raced ahead of her and stood over the victim as if he’d captured a wild boar, not beaten a man half to death. “Don’t worry, Doc. He can’t bother you now.”

Bother her? The stranger was unconscious. Blood dripped down the side of his face, pooling around his head. She knelt to check for a pulse. Letting out the breath she was holding, she said, “Thank God. His pulse is strong.”

“I can fix that,” Tico snarled.

The fear flooding her senses turned to rage. “You could have killed him! Do you
want
to go to jail for the rest of your life?”

Tico’s eyes blazed. “To protect you? Yeah, I would.”

Sitting on the pavement, she gently laid the stranger’s bloody head in her lap and prayed the ambulance would be here soon. The sirens that had scared the gang away were long gone. To her surprise, the man’s eyes opened.