The Phoenix Encounter (15 page)

“Stand back.” Quickly, Robert unbuckled the carrier and carefully passed Jack to her.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, taking Jack.

“I'm going to kick in the door.”

“Wouldn't the knob be easier?”

Robert blinked the rain from his eyes and looked at the rusty knob someone had nailed to one of the planks. Trying
not to feel like an idiot, he twisted it and shoved. The door creaked like ancient bones and swung open to reveal an ink-black tunnel.

“What do you see?” Lily asked, craning her head to see over his shoulder.

“Not a damn thing.”

“Do you have a flashlight?”

“Hey, I'm a Boy Scout, remember?” He dug the halogen flashlight from his backpack and shone it into the depths of the tunnel. The beam revealed a narrow chasm carved into rock and earth that went on for as far as the powerful beam penetrated. The passageway was seven-feet high and ten-feet wide. Ancient wooden support beams a foot in diameter had been set into the walls and ceiling at four-foot intervals. Cobwebs hung down like Spanish moss. Broken rails and rotted ties littered the floor where mining cars had once hauled ore from the bowels of the earth.

“Home sweet home,” Robert said, stepping inside.

“I wonder if they deliver pizza.”

“In-room movies would be nice.”

“Gone With The Wind.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of
The Matrix.
”

She smiled at him.

Robert knew it was a stupid moment, but he couldn't help but smile back. She was standing so close he could see the water beading on her eyelashes. He could smell the subtle scent of her shampoo coming off her wet hair. Her eyes were luminescent in the light of the beam. He was aware of Jack sleeping soundly between them, that Lily was close enough to touch, and an odd sense of rightness settled over him.

The moment shouldn't have meant anything—they were cold and tired and hungry with a band of hostile soldiers hot on their trail—but the moment did mean something. It meant a lot. More than he could put into words. A hell of a lot more than he wanted it to.

As he stood there looking into her beautiful eyes, the
realization of just how lucky he was to have found them, regardless of the circumstances, hit him like the business end of a cane. Lily stared back, her eyes wide, her lips trembling with cold. A single drop of water hung from her earlobe. Robert wondered what it would be like to lean down and catch that tiny droplet with his mouth. If she would allow it. If it would taste like her.

Before he realized that he was going to touch her, he reached out and caught the drop with his thumb. She flinched, then opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Lord, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to devour that mouth. Pull her to him. Finish what they had begun the night before. Damn it, he wanted to know if there was a future for them.

“Now might be a good time to pull that door closed,” he said gruffly.

“That'll make it awfully dark in here.”

“You're not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“No, I just…don't like it.”

He thought about what it would be like to be in a dark room with her, decided it was something he'd be better off not thinking about at the moment. “Leave it open a few inches. I'm going to build a fire. We'll use it as the chimney.”

Lily turned quickly away and pulled at the door.

Robert let out a long breath and wiped the rain from his forehead, wondering how the hell he was going to get through the rest of the night without doing something he was going to regret.

L
ily sat on the small tarp Robert had laid on the floor trying not to shiver, trying even harder not to think about how she was going to get through the night when she was cold to her bones and her life had just taken a hard left turn straight into disaster. She couldn't believe DeBruzkya had put a price on her head. One hundred thousand dollars was an outrageous sum of money in Rebelia. A lot of people would do a lot of things to earn it.

The possibilities made her shudder.

She looked at Jack snuggled in Robert's jacket next to her, and another layer of fear lanced through her. Robert was right; she'd put her child at risk. The thought struck her like a punch. He was the most precious thing to her in the world. A sweet, innocent baby—and she'd put him in danger. Not only Jack, she realized, but Robert, too, and guilt wrapped gnarly fingers around her and squeezed.

For several long minutes she sat next to Jack and watched him sleep. He'd wakened for a few minutes when she'd changed him; he'd even taken a little bit of the goat's
milk, then quickly fallen back to sleep. Lily wished sleep would come to her as easily. Wished she wasn't wet and cold and still shaking from their brush with DeBruzkya's soldiers.

A few feet from the mine entrance, Robert fed ancient wood planks to the small fire he'd built. Lily watched him, a new trepidation creeping over her. She'd never been particularly claustrophobic, but for the first time since they'd set foot inside the mine some twenty minutes ago, she felt hemmed in. Trapped. Not only by the dangers lurking outside, but by her feelings for Robert.

No matter how badly she wanted to deny it, there was something powerful and undeniably profound between them. A tangible connection that pain and grief and distance hadn't erased.

“The fire should warm it up in here a little.”

She started at the sound of Robert's voice and looked up to find him silhouetted against the fire, facing her. His wet hair looked black in the flickering light. He'd slicked it back, revealing sharp cheekbones and angular planes that lent him a menacing countenance. His face was in shadow, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes sweeping over her as surely as she could feel the welcome heat from the flames.

“It's going to be a long night,” he said. “This might be a good time to see what we can do about drying our clothes.”

“I'm fine.” She knew the instant she said the words how silly they sounded.

“Wet clothes are fine if you're a fish. But you're not, and I don't have to tell you about the dangers of hypothermia,” he said. “Do I?”

When she didn't respond, he frowned and walked over to the fire. She knew what he was going to do next—take off his sweater. And while she knew that was the practical thing to do, the side of her that wasn't feeling quite so practical jumped into panic mode.

“What are you doing?” she snapped.

He scowled at her. “Getting dry.”

Feeling awkward and silly and terribly uncomfortable, she looked away. She didn't want to see Robert Davidson without his shirt. Seeing him shirtless and brooding would make her remember, and the last thing she wanted to do was remember how things had once been between them.

But for all the warnings blaring inside her head, she couldn't keep her eyes off him for long. She turned her head and watched him drag the sweater up and over his head. Her mouth went dry as his flat abdomen came into view. She saw black hair and taut flesh, and sudden heat flashed through her. He winced a little as he worked the sweater off his shoulders and draped it over a makeshift clothesline he'd fashioned from a coil of old wire.

Aware that her heart was hammering, she stared at the red slash just above his bicep for several long seconds before realizing it was a wound. “What on earth happened to your shoulder?”

Frowning as if the bullet wound were nothing more than an annoying bee sting, he looked at it. “It's nothing.”

“Nothing?”
Rising abruptly, she crossed the short distance between them. Shock rippled through her when she realized the damage had been done by a bullet. “My God, you've been
shot.
”

“It's a graze, Lily. Hurts like the dickens, but it's not serious.”

“How can a piece of lead tearing through flesh at a high rate of speed not be serious?”

“The medical term for it is flesh wound.”

“Why on earth didn't you say something?”

“I didn't want to distract you.”

“Distract me?”

He shrugged. “I didn't think you could run and fuss over a flesh wound at the same time.”

A noise of exasperation escaped her. “I thought doctors were supposed to be smart about injuries.”

“We don't panic.”

“For God's sake, Robert, you could have been killed.”

“Any of us could have been killed,” he returned evenly.

The words chilled her because she knew they were true, and the guilt twisted brutally inside her. Because she didn't want to think too hard about all the terrible things that could have happened, she turned her attention to the wound. The sight of it made her wince. The bullet had opened a two-inch-long gash. It wasn't deep, but the surrounding flesh was swollen and badly bruised. She could tell by the stain on his sweater that it had bled quite a bit. “At least the bleeding has stopped,” she said.

He shot her a canny look. “Think you can butterfly me?”

Lily jerked her head. “Of course I can.”

Scowling, he limped over to Jack, knelt and set his hand against the baby's plump cheek. Lily watched as Robert's features softened, and in an instant he went from annoyed man to gentle father. “He's sleeping well,” he said softly.

“Up until recently he was always a good sleeper,” she said, coming up behind him. “The vitamins really helped.”

Robert picked up one of Jack's tiny hands and inspected his fingers. “Nail bed coloration is good.”

Kneeling beside him, Lily brushed her hand over Jack's forehead. “Is he going to be all right?” she whispered.

For several moments, the only sound came from the crackling fire and the incessant rain outside. “He's going to be fine,” Robert said.

“Promise me,” she said.

“I promise.”

She knew it was a promise he couldn't ensure, but she desperately needed to hear it, needed even more desperately to believe it. “Thank you.”

The fire had eased the dampness from the cave. Slowly, Lily felt the tension at the back of her neck begin to unravel. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world
when Robert reached out and brushed the wet hair from her cheek.

“Are you holding up okay?” he asked.

Lily nodded, resisting the urge to press her cheek against his hand. The backs of his fingers were warm and dry, and his touch reassured her as nothing else could have. Her heart beat a little unsteadily against her ribs when he brushed his thumb over the scar at her brow.

“I wouldn't have left you that night,” he whispered. “If I'd been able to stay. I would have found you.”

Lily saw something she couldn't quite identify in his eyes. Tenderness, perhaps. Affection tempered with caution. She wanted that to be enough, but it wasn't. “I know.”

Taking her hand, he rose, and she rose with him. Need and the sweet ache of memories past tangled within her. She knew it was a dangerous thought, but she wanted to step into his embrace. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be kissed. For a short while she wanted to forget about all the troubles in the world. The dangers she had brought down on them.

“You're shivering,” he said quietly.

“It's cold.” But Lily knew damn good and well she wasn't shivering because of the cold.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, but he made no move to get any closer. “We need to get your clothes dried.”

“I think that might be a little awkward.”

“Hey, I'm a doctor, remember?” He grinned. “You can wrap Jack's blanket around you until your sweater is dry. He's got my jacket to keep him warm.”

She had absolutely no desire to walk around with nothing more than a threadbare blanket to cover her. But Lily knew it would be silly to spend the night in wet clothes and risk hypothermia when she could dry them over the fire.

“I brought some dried fruit and nuts,” Robert said. “Let's get your clothes hung and then we'll eat.”

“We'll eat after that wound on your shoulder is cleaned and bandaged,” she said firmly.

Robert smiled. “Yes, ma'am.”

At that moment he looked very much like the man she'd fallen in love with two years earlier. So much that it frightened her.

Moving away from him, Lily stooped and eased the blanket from Jack, replacing it with Robert's jacket. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

Blanket in hand, she left the warmth of the fire and walked to a dim corner where the air was cold and damp. In her peripheral vision she saw Robert rummaging in his backpack with his back to her.

“Stay right there and don't turn around,” she said.

Robert straightened, but kept his back to her. “No problem.”

Never taking her eyes from him, she swiftly lifted the sweater over her head, then unhooked her bra. Her skirt was wet, too, so she stepped out of it. Shivering against the cold, she withdrew the mini Magnum and unbuckled the holster from around her thigh. Wearing nothing except her panties, she wrapped the blanket around her and started toward the fire.

Aware that her heart was beating too fast, she risked a look at Robert—just to make sure he still had his back to her. But the sight of his muscular back and broad shoulders stopped her cold. The fire cast a warm glow that turned his skin golden. His jeans were wet. He hadn't yet removed them, and the wet material hugged every toned muscle of his backside. She tried hard to deny the sharp zing of awareness that crept over her, but she didn't have much luck.

Lily reached the fire and looked at the soggy clothes in her hands. “Where's a clothes dryer when you need one?” she said, trying not to feel awkward.

Robert turned. She couldn't bring herself to look at him,
but she felt his gaze sweep over her as surely as if he'd touched her.

“I'll hang them for you,” he said.

She did look at him then, and the contact was as shocking as the snap of a bullet through the air. She saw the quick flex of his jaw. The jump of heat in his eyes. She was aware of that same heat jumping through her blood, warming her from the inside out. Aware that her knees had begun to shake, that neither of them had made a move to close the short, dangerous distance between them, she looked away. “I can do it.”

She concentrated intently on draping her sweater and skirt over the wire, but she was starkly aware that he was standing just a few feet away. That he was watching her every move. That he hadn't said a word. And that if they didn't do something about the tension, the air around them was going to shatter.

As she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt she heard Robert move away. Her nerves settled a bit when she looked over her shoulder and saw him spreading a second tarp on the ground.

Leaving her clothes hanging, she crossed to him. “How's your shoulder?”

“Flesh wounds always hurt the most.”

“It's going to be stiff tomorrow.”

“I don't think I'll be playing basketball for a while.” He rolled the shoulder in question as if testing it and ended up grimacing. “It could use a bandage if you're up to it.”

Bandaging the wound wasn't the problem. Standing scant inches from a bare-chested man to whom she was incredibly attracted while she was wearing nothing more than a threadbare blanket was the problem. “I'm up to it.”

He sank onto the tarp and dug into his medical bag. Lily watched as he removed a roll of gauze, first aid tape, antibiotic cream and a small container of peroxide.

“Unless you've got really long arms, you might try coming over here,” he said. “I don't bite.”

Feeling herself flush, she stepped over to him and knelt. “I think we both know your biting isn't the problem.”

He frowned at the wound. “Clean it up with a little peroxide, add a thin glaze of the antibiotic ointment, cover it with a bandage. Think you can do that?”

“Of course I can.” Lily hoped he didn't notice that her hands were shaking when she tore open an alcohol pad and sterilized her hands. Robert didn't so much as wince when she drizzled peroxide over the wound. She twisted the cap off a tube of ointment, then applied it directly to the wound. The graze wasn't deep, but the bullet had definitely done some damage. He would have a permanent scar. If the bullet had been a couple of inches deeper, it would have shattered his shoulder.

“You're incredibly lucky this wasn't any worse,” she said.

“I'd say all three of us were pretty damn lucky.”

He made a sound that was more annoyance than pain when she laid the gauze over the wound and pressed the tape over it.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it hurts. I'm just about finished.”

“Take your time,” he said between clenched teeth, then glanced at her handiwork. “You ever consider taking up medicine?”

Smoothing the last strip of tape, she sat back on her heels. “I'm much too good at journalism.”

Working his shoulder, Robert rose and walked to his backpack.

“I'm hoping you have a couple of filets mignons and a bottle of Merlot in there,” she said.

“Close.” He grinned. “Almonds and dried apricots.”

“That'll do in a pinch.” She watched as he withdrew a tiny computer and headset.

“I need to check in with Dr. Orloff at the hospital,” he said.

“That's pretty high-tech gear for a doctor on a humanitarian mission,” she said.

Instead of acknowledging the statement he carried the tiny computer several feet away, slipped on the headset and tapped several keys.