by Meryl Sawyer
"Come here," he said and he patted the spot beside him on the huge stump.
She sat beside him, wanting to tell him how much she cared about him. When he'd thrown himself over Rafi, she'd been stunned that he would sacrifice himself. Daniel never would have done the same thing—even for his own son.
He slipped his good arm around her, saying, "You were brilliant back there. You knew exactly what to do."
Kelly gazed into his eyes and saw he meant every word. She hadn't done anything special. She'd merely done what was necessary. That's all.
"If I were the kind of man who got married and settled down, you'd be the woman I would want at my side."
For a moment she thought about telling him that she might be pregnant, but decided against it. This wasn't the time to place an added burden on him. Getting a little boy to safety was their priority.
"Thank you," she retorted with a light-heartedness she certainly didn't feel. "I just want you to know that if I ever had any intention of letting a man into my life again, it would be you."
He chuckled—or tried to, then said. "You have to take out the bullet now while Rafi is sleeping. He's seen enough blood for one day."
She reluctantly nodded. "Tell me what to do."
"Take off your panties. I need you to catch a tree frog." He trained the flashlight's beam on a nearby tree. "See the frog with the red spots on his back? Shake the tree until one falls to the ground, then bag him with your panties."
"Are we going to eat him?" she asked, recalling his story about eating rats and tarantulas to survive. A frog wasn't so bad.
"No, those frogs secrete a deadly poison. That's why you need to put on the latex gloves from the first-aid kit. It's very important that you don't touch the frog. Your fingers will be too numb to remove the bullet."
"Is this what they teach Cobras?" She took off her bloodstained shorts, then pulled down her panties as he continued to explain what they were going to do with the frog.
"I want you to skin the frog's back where the red spots are. The poison he secretes from them acts like an anesthetic. He catches his prey by letting them touch him, then secreting the poison. It puts them to sleep, then he eats them. We're going to use just enough to deaden the pain in my arm so you can remove the bullet."
Logan aimed the flashlight at the tree while Kelly shook the lowest branch. Half a dozen frogs fell out, two of them landing on her head. They leaped out of sight in a heartbeat.
Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed the next branch and came nose-to-nose with two rather smug-looking frogs. Then she realized what they were doing.
"I hate to break up this party, but I need you both." She snagged them with her panties and returned to Logan.
"Great! That was fast."
"It doesn't seem quite fair to interrupt mating frogs to kill them, but that's life in the big city." It was a really lame attempt at a joke, but she needed to keep her mind off the task ahead. "Have you ever used a frog like this before?"
"No. It's in the survival manual. Harvard University and other medical colleges are studying the secretions. It may be developed as an alternative for people with severe reactions to anesthetics."
"How do we know how much to use? Maybe I had better skin both frogs in case one isn't enough."
"Good thinking," he said. "Don't throw away the frogs after you've skinned them. Hang them from a branch in your panties. We're going to need them."
She knew better than to ask why. "Shouldn't I put them out of their misery before I skin them?"
"Slit them from just underneath their throats to their legs, then gut them the way I did the lizard. That way they die instantly." He sucked in a deep breath and held it, pain evident in his eyes. "You'd better take the flashlight and do it away from here. You don't want to wake up in the morning and find Rafi playing with frog guts."
* * *
Chapter 31
« ^ »
Logan waited in the dark while Kelly skinned the frogs. Determination alone had propelled him down the trail. Determination and knowing Kelly and Rafi were depending on him had spurred him forward.
He'd plowed along the path with relentless tenacity. At each bend, at each point where vines shrouded the trail, he had told himself they'd reached their destination. Over and over and over, he'd been wrong, then finally.
THE CLEARING.
His watch had told him this was the space on the EPA map, but the reality was very different from what his computer had shown. The clearing was too small. No doubt the new growth would be on the EPA's updated disk, which Cobra Force members would receive in their intelligence packets next month.
But that wouldn't do him any good now.
He didn't have the strength to take out his computer and boot it up to check the map for another spot. He relied on his memory, which was pretty damn good. They were miles from anywhere a chopper could land except for the highway.
"Forget it," he muttered to himself. "They'll be constantly patrolling that road."
He studied the night sky visible through the opening in the canopy of the rain forest. A hunter's moon, he thought, automatically using a term that he had learned at the camp. Bright enough to hunt at night.
That meant Miguel Orinda's men would be moving drugs, taking advantage of the moonlight. The DEA helicopters would be tracking them. No one would notice if one chopper nipped over the border and picked them up.
Silver Bullets were manufactured specially for the military by Bell Helicopters. They had been designed for tight spaces. The chopper was small enough to dip down into the clearing, but there wasn't a place for it to land.
"They raped the forest," Logan murmured out loud, recalling the clearing when he'd scanned it with his high-powered flashlight. They had left tree stumps that were two feet high above discarded trees that had no value for lumber. The clearing was so littered with debris that even a Silver Bullet couldn't land.
They could lower a rope ladder. Rafi would have to be strapped to Kelly's back so she would have both hands free to climb the ladder. It would be scary. He'd done it himself a couple of times. The ladder tended to swing and gyrated wildly in a wind.
It was their only option even if it had one huge drawback. He hesitated a second, realizing the consequences. Go for it. Kelly was counting on him.
A jagged flash of light distracted him. Kelly appeared, the flashlight braced under her arm. In one hand were the frog skins while her panties dangled from the other hand. The grim set of her mouth eradicated any hint of the usual upward tilt of her lips that he liked to see.
"Are you okay?" he asked as she placed the skins beside him on the stump.
"I've just about had all the fun I can have."
She walked over to a discarded tree nearby and hung the panties from a lifeless branch. The remains of the frogs sagged to the bottom, blood oozing from the sheer fabric. With the heat and the humidity, they would be crawling with maggots by morning.
"Did you have any trouble?" he asked. It wasn't the neatest skinning he'd ever seen, but then, Kelly had never skinned anything. He'd started skinning rabbits in the camp's makeshift kitchen when he'd been a little older than Rafi.
She sat beside him, gazing down at the bloody Latex gloves covering her hands. "They were so cute. I've never killed anything before. I didn't think I could do it, but I thought about you dying and knew I had no choice."
She had a depth and power to her that he admired, but she was also tremendously sensitive. All heart. How lucky could he get? He'd spent his life alone, never having experienced a special woman. Until Kelly.
"I threw up afterward," she confessed in a sheepish voice and he felt her revulsion, her heartfelt anguish.
He reached out and touched her cheek with his good hand. Even that small movement caused a blistering arc of pain through his body. The painkiller was wearing off fast.
"Kelly, why don't you rest a bit? The skins—"
"No. I can't chance you getting blood poisoning." Her throat work
ed up and down, then she attempted to shrug. "Tell me what to do next."
"There's a hollowed-out log over there. I'll bet rainwater has collected in it. Use some of it to wash the blood off the gloves." Gritting his teeth, he reached into his pack and found the collapsible cup and handed it to her.
She walked quickly over to the log, leaving him in darkness. He stood up and the whirlpool of stars overhead made him dizzy and slightly nauseated. Before he collapsed, he quickly sank to the ground. It took all his strength to lift his injured arm onto the stump by the frog skins so Kelly could remove the bullet, using the stump as a table.
He figured the slug had ripped through tissue, severing his triceps and lodging in the bone. Getting it out was going to be a son of a bitch.
"I'll hold the light," he told Kelly when she returned. "That way both your hands will be free."
"No you won't. You might pass out. I'll prop it up with my tote."
Logan watched as she set things up, then pulled the Cobra Force knife out of her pocket. "I should sterilize this. You must have matches somewhere."
"Don't worry about sterilizing anything. In the tropics, a wound like this will become infected no matter what you do."
She started to argue, but changed her mind. Sitting opposite him, she worked carefully, cutting the bandage off his upper arm without reopening the wound. Her eyes were wide, a little fearful, but determined. "When do I apply the frog skin?"
"Make a tourniquet first so I won't bleed too much and make it even harder for you to locate the bullet, then apply the skin. Let's see if one will numb me enough. We don't want too much in my bloodstream."
She picked up one skin. "What happens if too much gets into your system?"
"It numbs the heart the way it numbs my skin. Too much causes cardiac arrest."
For a second, he thought she was going to be sick again, but she steadied herself. She took off her blouse and used it as a tourniquet. Her breasts were bare, but he didn't bother to stare at her the way he would have once. He studied her face, knowing that soon they would be forced to part.
He might never see her again.
He wanted to remember this moment, when the chips were down, and he had to put his life in her hands. It was something he'd never done, never contemplated doing. Yet here he was, allowing a woman to take control.
No denying it, Kelly had changed him, bless her sweet heart. He wanted to savor the memory of Kelly saving his life. Logan needed to be able to recall how Kelly looked at various times. He'd already memorized her laugh, her smile, the way she cried out when they were making love.
"Do you feel anything?" Kelly asked as she gently pressed the frog's skin against the wound.
"It hurts like hell," he said through clenched teeth. "It's supposed to take a minute before it kicks in."
They waited in silence; the only sounds came from the night world around them. A chorus of crickets trilled a mournful dirge, and a night bird called to its mate. In the distance a troop of howler monkeys screeched at each other. He watched Kelly concentrate, clamping down on her lower lip with her teeth.
"It feels better," he said to encourage her. "The stuff must be working. Give it another minute."
"There's something I want to tell you." She kept pressing the skin against his wound, but her serious brown eyes sought his. "I've never met anyone like you."
"With luck you never will again."
"Be serious." Tears welled up in her eyes.
Man, oh, man, was she going to cry? Don't do this to me. You mean the world to me. I can't handle tears right now.
"I'm trying to tell you how special you are. If anything happens to you, I don't know what I'll do."
The heartfelt emotion in her voice, ripped through him like a serrated knife. Hell! He didn't want to be "special." He wanted her to love him.
Love?
The word love, a word he rarely thought about and had never said to anyone, released a juggernaut of raw emotion. Why would he want Kelly to love him? He had his life—a life he loved—on the Cobra Force. He'd lived this long without love. He didn't need it now, did he?
"Logan, at first you fooled me. I was afraid of you. I thought you were tough and mean, a talented actor who could turn on a smile in a heartbeat. I see through all that now."
"What do you see?"
"A wonderful man. I'm very lucky to have known you." She stifled a sob, then managed to gather herself. "You know how terribly sorry I am to see you in this mess."
"Darling, don't be sorry. I have absolutely no regrets. I would do it all over again."
He shocked himself by calling her darling. Obviously, the loss of blood and the wound were getting to him. But he had to admit Kelly was special. There had never been a woman in his life that he'd truly cared about.
Not ever.
His mother had ignored him. To this day she probably hadn't noticed he wasn't around the camp. Zoe had been a cruel, heartless bitch who lived to torture children. The other women he'd met after leaving the camp had one use—sex.
Kelly was different, special. She had an unusually close relationship with Pop. Rafi was going to benefit from that unique type of devotion and caring. Looking back, Logan realized that he had been part of it, for a short while.
Stunned by his sudden, totally unexpected self-awareness, he tried to steer his thoughts to his life as a Cobra. One hell of a thrill ride, sure, but … if he were brutally honest with himself, something had been missing. Those years were filled with desolate loneliness compared to the time he'd spent with Kelly.
"Feel anything yet?" Kelly asked.
Damn straight he was feeling something. A sense of loss, maybe, or perhaps nostalgia. It was a strange sensation, one he'd never had.
He missed Kelly already.
She had a heart as big as Texas and was as courageous as the most highly trained Cobra. Something inside him shattered when he realized they did not have much more time together.
"Logan? Do you feel numb at all? Is this working?"
"Yes, a little. Maybe the tourniquet has cut off the circulation. Poke me with the knife, then I'll know."
She hesitated, sucked in her breath, and finally picked up the knife with her free hand. Sparks of light danced off the razor-sharp blade. Fascinated, a little woozy, he watched as the tip of the knife disappeared into his skin.
"Son of a bitch! The friggin' frogs work, Kelly. Go for it." She set the frog skin aside and studied the wound intently. He could see her reluctance etched across her beautiful face. It was difficult to slice someone open. He'd skinned enough rabbits and butchered deer for food at the camp. It would never be a problem for him, but Kelly's background was different.
Thank God. He didn't want to imagine Kelly suffering the way he had. He wanted to think about her with Pop. He desperately needed to know Rafi was with them. Yes, that would make him happier than anything he could imagine.
"You'll feel the slug before you see it. Get it out. Don't worry about me."
He watched the knife slash though his skin as if it were butter. Kelly grimaced, a soft cry escaping her pursed lips. Logan watched, detached almost as if this were happening to someone else.
"I can feel it!" she cried.
The knife had cleaved open the wound. Despite the tourniquet, blood dripped from his skin. Absently, he wondered how much more blood he could afford to lose.
"It's stuck in the bone." The anguish in her voice alarmed him.
"Pry it out, Kelly. I can't feel a damn thing."
He watched her work, blood now pouring from the wound. It could have taken seconds, minutes or hours. Logan lost track of time. Finally the bullet popped out, hit his chin and landed on the stump beside the unused frog skin.
"You're fantastic, Kelly."
She shrugged, reaching for the roll of gauze. Logan watched her bandage him, no sensation in his arm, but his head seemed light, ready to float away. The last of the tape in place, Kelly untied the tourniquet.
A rushing sound
like the water in Oak Creek whirred in his ears, and Kelly's beautiful face blurred. He blinked hard to banish the pinpricks of blackness obscuring his vision. He battled the engulfing shadows, but they tugged at him relentlessly until he was dragged into a dark whirlpool.
The last thing he remembered was collapsing into Kelly's arms.
* * *
The second Kelly noticed Logan's head tilting to one side at an odd angle, she leaped over the stump to his side. In slow motion he toppled sideways into her arms.
"You lost a lot of blood, but you're going to be all right," she told him as if saying it out loud would somehow make it come true.
Bracing her back against the stump for support, she managed to angle Logan's body so his head was against her breasts. The rasp of stubble along his jaw grazed her bare skin.
Cradling him, she gently laid his injured arm across his chest. Blood stained the gauze in an ever widening circle.
"Don't you dare bleed to death on me," she whispered to him. "Don't you dare."
She pressed her lips against his clammy forehead, remembering the first time he'd kissed her, really kissed her. In front of a hundred people on their wedding day. The experience had rattled her, embarrassing her in front of Pop's friends.
Who cared? Could she live with herself if Logan died?
She had used him. An ugly thought, but it was the unvarnished truth. She had been too fond of Matt to allow him to marry her so she could adopt Rafi. But Logan had not received similar consideration. Pop had warned her, but she dismissed the danger to Logan.
No denying it. She was selfish beyond belief. She was the one who deserved to bleed to death, not Logan.
* * *
Jazz on the Rocks each fall brought hundreds of tourists into Sedona. Naturally, Woody expected his family and friends to accompany him. Jazz was a total bore, but they went along anyway.
It wasn't until the concert was over that he had a chance to get her alone and tell her the news. They managed to ride in a limousine together and have the driver roar into the night before anyone else joined them.
"Something's happened," he said the second the driver rolled up the glass partition, allowing them to speak privately.