Her Hard to Resist Husband

by Tina Beckett

  “You sure you want to do this? The airport is on our way. We could still have you on a flight to Sao Paulo in a jiffy.”

  She jerked in her seat, gripping the webbing of the seat belt before shifting to look at him. “I can’t just turn my back on the town. That’s not how I operate.”

  Really? It had seemed all too easy for her to turn her back on him. But saying so wouldn’t help anyone.

  They reached the entrance to the highway, and Ben sighed when he saw metal barricades stretched across its width.

  The four-lane road—long under construction—was still not finished.

  He coasted down a steep incline to reach the so-called official detour, which consisted of a narrow dirt track running parallel to the road. It looked more like a gully from water run-off than an actual street. As far as the eye could see, where the highway should have been there was now a long stretch of hard-packed orange clay that was impassable. At the moment trucks seemed to be the only vehicles braving the washboard tract Ben and Tracy were forced to use. Then again, there was no other option. Most things, including food, were moved from city to city via semi-tractor-trailers. And with the current conditions of the highway it was no wonder things were so expensive in northeastern Brazil.

  “How long have they been working on this?” Tracy asked.

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “No. But it was paved the last time I was here.”

  They’d spent most of their marriage in Teresina, the capital of the state of Piaui. He’d rearranged his job so he could stay in one place. Ben thought Tracy had been willing to do the same. How wrong he’d been.

  She had come off the medical boat and put someone else in her place, but that was about the only concession she’d made to their marriage. By the time he’d realized she was never going to slow down, he’d lost more than just his wife.

  “Yes, it was paved, after a fashion.” He grimaced. “I think the shoulder we’re on is in better shape than the highway was back then.”

  Ben slowed to navigate a particularly bad stretch where torrential rains had worn a deep channel into the dirt. “Well, some parts of it, anyway.”

  “My car would never survive the trip.”

  He smiled. “Are you still driving that little tin can?”

  “Rhonda gets great gas mileage.”

  His gut twisted. He could still remember the laughter they’d shared over Tracy’s insistence on keeping her ragamuffin car when they’d got married, despite the hazardous stretches of road in Teresina. To his surprise, the little vehicle had been sturdier than it had appeared, bumping along the worst of the cobblestone streets with little more than an occasional hiccup. Like the bumper she’d lost on a visit to one of the neighboring aldeias. She’d come back with the thing strapped to the roof. He smiled. When he’d suggested it was time to trade the vehicle in, she’d refused, patting the bonnet and saying the car had seen her through some tough spots.

  His smile faded. Funny how her loyalty to her car hadn’t been mirrored in her marriage.

  He cast around for a different subject, but Tracy got there first.

  “How’s Marcelo doing?”

  Ben’s brother was the new chief of neurosurgery over at Teresina’s main hospital. “He’s fine. Still as opinionated as ever.”

  She smiled. “Translated to mean he’s still single.”

  “Always will be, if he has his way.” He glanced over at her. “What about you? How’s Projeto Vida going?” The medical-aid ship that had brought them together was still Tracy’s pet project.

  “Wonderfully. Matt is back on the team and has a baby girl now.”

  Tracy’s sister had died years ago, leaving her husband, Matt, heartbroken. “He remarried?”

  “Yep. Two years ago.” She paused. “Stevie…Stephani, actually, is great. She loves the job and fits right into the team.”

  “I’m glad. Matt seemed like a nice guy.” Ben had met him on several occasions when they’d traveled to Coari to deliver supplies or check on the medical boat.

  “He is. It’s good to see him happy again.”

  Which was more than he could say about Tracy. Maybe it was the stress of what she’d been dealing with in Sao Joao dos Rios, but the dark circles under her green eyes worried him. He glanced to the side for a quick peek. The rest of her looked exactly as he remembered, though. Long, silky black hair that hung just below her shoulders. The soft fringe of bangs that fluttered whenever the flow from the air-conditioning vent caught the strands. Lean, tanned legs encased in khaki shorts.

  And as much as he wished otherwise, being near her again made him long for family and normalcy all over again. He’d always thought she would bring stability to his life, help to counteract his tumultuous upbringing. His parents had drifted here and there, always searching for a new adventure while leaving their two young sons in the care of their housekeeper. In many ways, Ben had felt closer to Rosa than to his own mother, so much so that he’d kept her on at his house long after his parents had moved to the States on a permanent basis.

  He’d thought life with Tracy would be different. That their children would have the close-knit family he’d always longed for as a kid. But Tracy, once the first blush of their marriage had faded, had started traveling again, always finding some new medical crisis to deal with, whether with Projeto Vida or somewhere else.

  He could understand being married to your career—after all, he was pretty attached to his—but he’d learned to do it from one central location. Surely Tracy could have done the same.

  Instead, with every month that had passed, the same feelings of abandonment he’d had as a kid had taken root and grown, as had his resentment. And once she’d fallen pregnant, she’d seemed more obsessed about work than ever, spending longer and longer periods away from home.

  When he’d learned she was dealing with a yellow fever outbreak in one of the villages he’d finally snapped and called his old friend General Gutierrez—despite the fact that he knew Tracy been vaccinated against the disease. His ploy had worked. Tracy had come home. But their marriage had been over, even before she’d lost the baby.

  So why hadn’t he just settled down with someone else, like Tracy had suggested a few hours earlier? Marriage wasn’t exactly a requirement these days. And why hadn’t Tracy finally asked for a divorce and been done with it?

  Questions he was better off not asking.

  “What’s the time frame for pneumonic plague?”

  Her question jolted him back to the present. “From exposure to presentation of symptoms? Two days, on average. Although death can take anywhere from thirty-six hours after exposure to a week or more. It depends on whether or not other organ systems besides the lungs have been compromised.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve brought packets of antibiotics in that black gym bag I threw in the back. Go ahead and dig through it and take a dose before we get there.”

  Tracy unhooked her seat belt and twisted until she could reach the backseat. She then pulled out one of the boxes of medicine and popped a pill from the protective foil. She downed it with a swig from her water bottle then shoved a couple of strands of hair back from her temple. “You have no idea how glad I am that you were able figure it out so quickly.”

  “I think I do.” Surely she realized he was just as relieved as she was. “Not everyone has the equipment we do.”

  “Or the backing of the military.”

  He ignored the bitterness that colored her words. “Part of the reality of living in a developing country. We’ll catch up with the rest of the world, eventually. Marcelo’s hospital is a great example of that. It’s completely funded by sources outside the government.”

  “So is Projeto Vida.” She paused when they hit another rough patch of road, her hand scrabbling for the grip attached to the ceiling. “Speaking of funding, we’ll need to check with the nearest pharmacist to make sure they have enough antibiotics on hand. I’ll pay for more, if n
eed be.”

  “I was already planning to help with the costs.” He glanced over and their eyes caught for a second. When he turned his attention back to the road, her fingers slid over the hand he had resting on the emergency brake before retreating.

  “Thank you, Ben,” she said. “For letting me come. And for caring about what happens to those people.”

  He swallowed, her words and the warmth of her fingers penetrating the icy wall he’d built up over the last four years.

  It wasn’t exactly the thing that peace treaties were made of, but he got the feeling that Tracy had just initiated talks.

  And had thrown the ball squarely into his court.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MILITARY VEHICLES BLOCKED the road to Sao Joao dos Rios—uniformed personnel, guns at the ready, stood beside the vehicles.

  “They’re not taking any chances,” Ben muttered as he slowed the car on the dirt track.

  “In this case, caution is probably a good thing.” As much as Tracy worried about the presence of the Brazilian army, she also knew the country’s military had helped ease Brazil’s transition from a Portuguese colony to an independent nation. Not a drop of blood had been shed on either side. The two countries were still on good terms, in fact.

  There was no reason to fear their presence. Not really. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  Ben powered down his window and flashed his residence card, identifying both of them. “General Gutierrez is expecting us.”

  The soldier checked a handwritten list on his clipboard and nodded. “You’ve been told what you’re dealing with?”

  No. They’d been told nothing other than Ben being asked to come, but Tracy wasn’t sure how much this particular soldier knew. She didn’t want to start a mass panic.

  Ben nodded. “We’re aware. We brought masks and equipment.”

  She didn’t contradict him or try to add to his words. She knew he’d done quite a bit of work for the military and he’d probably identified many other pathogens for them in the past. They had also taken the time to track her down and challenge her work four years ago, when Ben had asked them to, something that still had the power to make her hackles rise.

  The soldier nodded. “I’ll need to search your vehicle. General Gutierrez said there were to be no exceptions. So if you’ll both step out, please.”

  Ben glanced her way, before putting the car in neutral—leaving the engine running and nodding at her to get out. He handed her a mask and donned one himself as he climbed from the vehicle.

  The soldier looked in the backseat. He then gave the dizzying array of equipment they were carrying a cursory glance but didn’t open any of the boxes. He seemed to be looking for stowaways more than anything, which seemed crazy. Who would want to sneak into a plague-infested area? Then again, she’d heard of crazier things, and nobody wanted this disease to get out of the village and into one of the bigger cities. Teresina wasn’t all that far away, when you thought about it.

  Ben came to stand next to her, and she noticed he was careful not to touch her. She swallowed. Not that she wanted him to. She’d had no idea they’d be thrown together in a situation like the one they were currently facing. But despite the pain that seeing him again brought, she couldn’t have asked for a better, or more qualified, work partner.

  She heard her name being called and turned towards the sound. Pedro hurried toward them, only to be stopped by another soldier about fifty yards before he reached them. The man’s point came across loud and clear. Once she and Ben crossed this particular line, there’d be no going back until it was all over. Who knew how long that could be?

  “Ben, are you sure you want to do this? You can drop me off and go back to Teresina. There’s no reason to risk yourself and all your work.”

  A muscle spasmed in his jaw, his eyes on Pedro. “My name was the one on the dance card, remember?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Besides, this is part of my job. It’s why I work at the institute.”

  “Yes, well…” She didn’t know how to finish the statement, since her reasons for wanting him to go back to the safe confines of his office was nothing more than a bid to keep her distance. She’d used his invitation as a way to regain access to the town, but she was also smart enough to know they might need his expertise before this was all over. So she held her tongue.

  She glanced back at the soldier, who was currently peering beneath the car at its chassis.

  Really? The guy had been watching way too many TV shows.

  “Can I go in while you keep looking? My assistant is motioning to me, and I want to start checking on the patients.” Daniel and Cleo were in there somewhere.

  The soldier waved her through, even as he switched on a flashlight and continued looking.

  “Tracy…” Ben, forced to wait for his vehicle to pass inspection, gave her a warning growl, but she shrugged him off.

  “I’ll meet you once you get through the checkpoint. Don’t let them confiscate the antibiotics.”

  And with that, she made her escape. Securing her mask and feeling guilty, she stepped around the line of military vehicles and met Pedro, pulling him a safe distance away from the soldier who’d stopped him.

  “It’s pneumonic plague,” she whispered, switching to Portuguese while noting he was already wearing a mask. “You’ll need to start on antibiotics immediately.”

  “I thought so. They’re staying pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, but they’ve set up a quarantine area. Those who are ill have been kept separate from those who still appear healthy—which aren’t many at this point.”

  “Any more deaths? How are Daniel and Cleo?”

  “Who?”

  “The two kids we found in the field.”

  Daniel, the boy she’d taken samples from, had been lying in a grassy area, too weak to stand and walk. His sister, showing signs of the illness as well, had refused to leave his side. They’d carried them back to an empty house, just as the military had shown up and taken over.

  “No change in the boy, although there have been two more deaths.”

  “And Cleo?”

  “She’s definitely got it, but now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can start them both on treatment.” Pedro slung his arm around her and squeezed. “Can I say how glad I am to see you? These soldier boys are some scary dudes.”

  He said the last line in English, using his best American accent, which made Tracy smile. She glanced over at Ben, who was still glowering at her, and her smile died.

  The soldiers weren’t the only scary dudes.

  Pedro continued, “The military docs have IVs going on some of the patients, but they wouldn’t tell me what they injected into the lines.”

  “Strange.” She glanced at one of the houses, which currently had a small contingent of guards at the doors and windows. “Did they say anything about antibiotics?”

  “I think they’re still trying to get a handle on things.”

  Ben joined them on foot, and she frowned at him. “Where’s your car?”

  “They’re going to drive it in and park it in front of one of the houses. They’ve evidently got a research area already set up.”

  He glanced at Pedro, whose arm was still around her, obviously waiting for an introduction. Okay, this was going to be fun. She noticed Pedro also seemed to be assessing Ben, trying to figure out what his place was in all this. He’d never asked about her ring, and she’d never volunteered any information. Several people had assumed she was widowed, and she’d just let it ride. Maybe she could simply omit Ben’s relationship to her.

  Well, that would be easy enough, because there was no relationship.

  “Ben, this is Pedro, my assistant.” She hesitated. “Pedro, this is Ben, head epidemiologist at the Centro de Doencas Tropicais in Teresina. He’s the one I went to see.” Maybe no one would notice that she’d conveniently left out his last name. Not that she went by it any more.

  Ben held out his hand. “Ben Almeida. N
ice to meet you.” He slid Tracy a smile that said he knew exactly what she’d done and why. “I also happen to be Tracy’s husband.”

  The look of shock in her assistant’s eyes was unmistakable, and he quickly removed his arm from around her shoulders. He shot her a look but dutifully shook hands and muttered something appropriate. She, on the other hand, sent Ben a death stare meant to cut him in two. Instead, he seemed totally unfazed by her ire.

  Ben nodded. “I’ve heard Tracy’s account of what happened here. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve observed?”

  It was said as if she was clueless. Pressure began building in the back of her head.

  Her assistant knew better. “Well, she’s probably told you more than I could. We’ve got about fifteen cases of… Tracy said it’s pneumonic plague?”

  “Yes.” Ben’s eyes followed the progress of some men in hazard gear as they went from one building to another. “And judging from the way they’re treating it, they know what they’re dealing with. Are they still burning the bodies?”

  “Yes. Two more in the last couple of hours,” Pedro said.

  “The boy whose sample I brought in—Daniel—is still alive, but he’s pretty sick. His sister is as well.”

  She didn’t need to say what else she knew: antibiotics needed to be started within twenty-four hours of the appearance of symptoms to be effective. Ben would already know that. The treatment window was narrow, but she wouldn’t give up, no matter how sick the patient.

  Tracy ached for the two children, their mother ripped from them without so much as a funeral service or a chance to say goodbye. Just thrown onto a flaming pyre to destroy any pathogens. How many other kids would watch helplessly as the same thing happened to their relatives? As much as she knew it had to be done, it still didn’t make it any easier. How would she feel if the body being burned was Ben’s?

  No. Not Ben. She wouldn’t let her mind go there.

  “Where are they putting you up for the night?” she asked Pedro.