Torrid Nights (4 page)

It was growing dark outside when her temperature began to soar. She broke out in a heavy sweat. The darkness closed around her, and she thought she was dying. The quinine arrived. Sully patiently remained at her side to give her the pills when she could swallow without vomiting them back up. Yet she didn’t feel any relief….

Ryan was dead. Sully meant well, but he couldn’t give her the comfort she needed so desperately. Where was Brock? She pushed that thought aside. Instead, she raved about the pain she had withheld for too long, the pain of Ryan’s death. Finally, her mutterings died away, and she slept, her blankets soaked with sweat.

It was noon the next day before Mackenna awoke. Sully was watching her dully. He hadn’t slept throughout the night, she guessed. Watching him, she felt damp and chilled. Gingerly, she touched the blankets with her fingers.

Sully got to his knees and came over, feeling her forehead. “How ya feeling, Mac?”

“Better,” she ventured, her voice raspy. “Thirsty.”

He grunted, slipping his arm beneath her neck, putting a canteen to her lips. “Good. You’re in the rest stage now. Drink all you can because you’re damn close to dehydration already. I think we got this attack under control. Soon as you can travel we’ll get you to a doctor.”

Mackenna’s eyes widened, meeting his. “What have you been giving me? Quinine or chloroquine?”

“Chloroquine.”

“Do we have enough?” Mackenna was relieved to hear she’d been given the stronger drug.

Sully eased her back down, pulling some dry blankets off the cot and trading them for the wet ones. “Yeah, we got plenty, Mac.” He frowned, his mouth compressed as he tucked her back in.

“Then what’s worrying you?”

“The drug’ll make a difference in a few more hours.”

“Meaning?”

He sat back on his haunches, sighing. “Meaning you’ve run yourself into the ground for the last year. Even the chloroquine’ll take another twenty-four hours to turn you around. You’ve driven yourself too hard, Mac.” His gruff voice softened. “Look, gal, you’re special. You don’t have to prove yourself to us anymore. We believe in you. We bust our tails out there for you. Quit pushing.”

Mackenna’s heart wrenched. “I couldn’t ask for a better crew,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. “And—” she swallowed hard “—you’re right. I’ve been trying to run away from—from Ryan’s death.”

He reached out, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “Well, there’s always time to make a change. Let the past go, Mac. You got a bright future in front of you.”

Mackenna grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “I suppose Hampton’s furious that I’m laid up.”

Sully’s silence confirmed her suspicions. “There goes my job,” she muttered glumly. Not that she cared. Right now she was experiencing only loss and anguish. The job seemed inconsequential. She would miss the construction crews, of course. The men were tied to her by the invisible steel strand of loyalty. They would go to hell and back for her if she asked them to.

“Screw Hampton!” Sully growled. “I’ve never seen so cold a man in all my years of living.”

Mackenna reached out, touching his gnarled hand. “Sully, he’s to be pitied, not hated.”

“Huh! He ain’t got a heart, Mac. He’s cold steel to the core.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, he isn’t, Sully.”

The mechanic gave her an odd stare. “Then you see something nobody else does. And you’d be feelin’ differently if you knew how he was behaving about you being laid up right now.”

“I feel compassion for anyone who locks himself into a box and doesn’t let his emotions out.”

He grinned. “You haven’t been doing much better, gal. Until recently. And it took the malaria to bring you out of it.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing,” she admitted slowly. “Sully, what do you know about Brock Hampton? You’ve been all around the South Pacific. Why is he like this? I’m sure he wasn’t born an ogre.”

Sully grunted, frowning. “I know some of the story, Mac. I worked for him way back when he was just starting out. Before Hampton Development became the international corporate giant it is.”

“What was he like then?”

Sully shrugged his thin shoulders. “I think he was about twenty-five at the time I was workin’ on one of his road gangs. He was decent then. Had a sense of fairness about him.” His eyes took on a twinkle as he gazed down at her. “In fact, he was a lot like you. Always pitching in and helping the crews. You know, little things. But they were important to us. He didn’t sit back like he does now and shout orders. Used to get in there and work, just like he was one of us.”

Mackenna chewed on her chapped lower lip. “Then what transformed him?”

“A woman,” he snorted. “Isn’t it always?” Then he looked apologetic. “You ain’t like that, Mac. So don’t take what I say personal, okay?”

“Okay.”

“About ten years ago he married a Eurasian woman. She was quite a beauty. And she came complete with her father’s Hong Kong construction empire as a dowry.” He scratched his head, remembering. “I only met her a couple of times. But she wasn’t someone you’d want to know better. She had no use for hired hands like me. But she sure did run Brock Hampton around. Lots of folks thought poorly of her. Lots of gossip and so on.”

“Did Brock marry her for business reasons?” Mackenna asked, searching for a reason.

“Who knows? But I’d swear he had fallen head over heels in love with her. Just by the look on his face. You can tell a lot by the look in a man’s eyes.”

“And he had that look?”

“Yup. And you shoulda seen him when he became a father! No one was prouder of any little boy than he was.”

Mackenna felt a warning chill and pulled the blanket more tightly around her. “Is he still married?”

Sully gave an explosive laugh. “Gal, that was one of the biggest and messiest divorces in the Far East! She took him right to the cleaners. And worse, she kidnapped the boy. For two years Hampton didn’t know if his son and ex-wife were dead or alive. Of course, that was her way of getting him to fork over half of his money and stocks, the way I heard it. From then on, he took on a hatred for women that’s well-known.” He gave her a worried look. “That’s why I’m scared for you, Mac. He hates deep. And you’re a woman. No doubt he puts you in a category with his ex-wife. He’s not the type of man to make exceptions.”

Another chill wracked Mackenna’s body, and she trembled visibly. Sully saw it and got to his knees to wrap another blanket around her heavily swathed body. “Well,” she said, gritting her chattering teeth, “he’s going to have to make me the exception.”

Sully gave her a reluctant smile, sitting back. “My money’s on you, Mac. Listen, Frank is gonna come in and stay with you for a while. I’m hungry, and Kepi’s keeping some chow hot for me over at the cook’s tent.” He gave her a final pat on the shoulder. “Be back in a little while.”

“Please,” she called as he got to his feet, “I’ll be fine. You need your sleep, Sully and—”

The mechanic glared down at her. “Now, you look here, gal. You just stay there and get better. I figure one more cycle and that chloroquine will take effect. Just rest!”

Mackenna stared up at him, realizing his eyes were growing watery like her own. Swallowing the lump in her throat she whispered, “Okay,” feeling like a contrite child.

Sully roused himself, grunting. “That’s more like it. You Irishwomen are strong and bullheaded, but at least you got about an ounce of sense. No more. Feel like eating something? We gotta keep your strength up, Mac.”

Suddenly Mackenna felt an overwhelming anger. Why did she have to get sick now, when she could least afford to be disabled? After Ryan’s death, she had had to stand alone. And she was alone now. But was she? She looked over at Sully. He cared deeply for her, she realized. Almost the way a father cared for a daughter. It brought tears to Mackenna’s eyes, and she managed a broken smile.

Before she could answer, the next cycle of the illness began in earnest. She barely heard Sully mutter something about malaria being erratic in its beginning stages. Mackenna groaned. Even the normal jungle noises seemed loud. Or was it because her head felt like a kettledrum being struck? The chills attacked with even more ferocity. She lay in a tight fetal curl inside the cocoon of damp blankets. Regardless of how many bedcovers Sully pressed around her body, her teeth chattered. Within fifteen minutes the chills had subsided and the vomiting had begun. She felt almost grateful when her temperature rose and she no longer felt the iciness that paralyzed her body. Mackenna lapsed into a delirious ranting, returning to the world of grief and loss, working out the remnants of her anguish one final time.

During her delirium Brock Hampton’s voice sliced through the whirling sounds cartwheeling through the tunnels of her mind. His voice was low and angry. “How like him,” she mumbled, “to be in a rage.” As if she could help being sick! Mackenna tossed from side to side, trying to throw off the blankets, burning up with fever. Rivulets of sweat streamed down her face. The coolness of a cloth being placed on her forehead momentarily soothed her. She cried out for water, the thirst parching her throat.

Mackenna felt herself being lifted, a cup being pressed to her lips. Water! A few cooling drops slipped from the corners of her mouth and ran down onto her neck, and they felt like heaven. She drank in huge gulps, unaware of exactly how much she consumed. Staring up at the dark, shadowed face above her, she wondered if her feverish mind was playing tricks on her. It was Brock Hampton. At her bedside? She managed a half-laugh, half-sob over the joke. His face was strained, a day’s worth of beard making him look even more sinister than usual. Despite his demeanor Mackenna saw through his dark facade, studying his narrowed eyes as they watched her every move. There was worry in them and—She blinked, aware suddenly of the deep sense of concern that radiated outward toward her.

Now he cradled her against his chest. She lay weakly within his embrace and closed her eyes. “Hell,” she murmured, “this has got to be hell….”

“You don’t know what hell is,” Brock growled, pressing her back on the pallet.

Mackenna felt incredibly weak, confused by his unexpected tenderness. She had not believed that Brock Hampton would deign to nurse another human being. Especially a female one. Especially now. She opened her eyes, focusing on his shadowed face. “I know what hell is,” she said hoarsely.

He sat back on his haunches, his eyes never leaving her face. “All you’ve done for the last couple of hours is cry. Is that all you ever do?”

She winced inwardly. Despite her body’s utter depletion, anger gave her strength. “Why are you here?” she said. “Are you gloating because I’m sick? You probably love to see a person down, don’t you?”

Hampton gave her an icy smile that told her nothing. He ignored her questions. “I sent Bevans off to take care of a few things. I came in his place.”

“Where’s Sully?”

“Asleep. He was up for thirty-six hours straight with you. I’ve got to admit you’ve got a loyal crew,” he said, a tinge of admiration in his voice. “Most crews hate their supers and couldn’t care less if they live or die.”

“I’m not most supers,” she snapped. “Quit putting me in those damn labeled boxes you think you know so much about!”

“Are you this cranky all the time?” he asked mildly, a glint of amusement in the depths of his eyes.

“When the occasion merits it, you bet. Why don’t you just get out of here? Or have you dropped by to tell me I’m fired because I had the bad judgment to get sick?” Her pulse pounded weakly at the base of her throat and her long fingers curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to reach out and slap his arrogant face. Slap away that icy barrier that he lived so comfortably behind. A cruel smile tugged at his mouth.

“What? And spend the next three weeks all alone out here? No way, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she snapped. “Either you work with me on strictly a business level or I’ll quit.”

“Business it’ll be,” he growled, his eyes glittering with anger. “You’re a real hellcat, aren’t you?”

“Only when I’m cornered,” she flung back, feeling the weakness stealing over her. She was coming out of the delirium and her stomach growled.

“Looks like even hellcats get hungry,” he observed. “The cook made some chicken soup for you.”

Mackenna groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me the cook stole a chicken! I’ve warned them about that. They can’t steal local poultry just because we’re building the road through here.” She closed her eyes, knowing that the chief of the village would soon arrive with a legitimate complaint. She couldn’t remember how many chickens per mile of road they had been forced to make reparations for. Too many, Mackenna told herself. Supplying the cooks with foodstuffs was a continuing problem. When deliveries didn’t come through, the cooks got creative. Raiding the local villages was easy late at night; chickens couldn’t see well in the dark, and it was easy to sneak up on one, stuff it in a gunny sack, and bring it back to camp. Mackenna raised her hand to her forehead.

“If it’ll make you feel any better, your graveyard shift bought you a chicken late this afternoon.”

Mackenna looked up at him. “They bought it?” she asked disbelievingly.

Brock’s eyes glittered with mirth. “What’s the matter? Did you sign up a bunch of thieves?”

She gave him a look of disgust. “Don’t tell me you haven’t encountered the same problem elsewhere!”

He pursed his lips. “They bought the chicken. So relax. Do you want some soup?”

It sounded good. She nodded. “Please.

Brock slowly rose to his full height. In the confines of the tent his stature seemed enormous; he was a mountain of a man, every grouping of muscles that shaped his body planed to rugged durability. There was strength there. And Mackenna suddenly knew that it was a good strength, despite his gruff demeanor. She reflected on this as he watched her with his guarded, unreadable gaze. “I’ll have one of your thieves bring it over to you. In the meantime, try to get back on your feet fast. I don’t like weaklings.”

A cold chill of anger washed over her. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice harsh. “I’ll get back to work just as soon as I can. But I’m sure as hell not going to die for you out there on that road!”