Ann squeezed the bag-valve mask, delivering a long, slow dose of oxygen into the man’s chest cavity. She saw the patient’s wife kneel down at his feet, sobbing and praying. She was so young and pretty—she couldn’t be more than in her late twenties.
“How old is he?”
“Forty-five.”
“Perfect age for a CA.”
“Yeah, isn’t it, though?” Mike continued to push down on the man’s chest again and again. He kept looking at Tony’s color. “Damn, this isn’t working.”
“How long before an ambulance arrives with a defibrillator machine?”
“Too long,” he muttered. “Too damn long. Stop CPR. We’re going to do something different.”
Ann watched as Houston jerked the shirt completely away from the man’s chest. She saw him ball up his fist. She knew what he was going to do. In the absence of a defibrillator, which with an electrical shock could jolt the heart into starting again, a medic could strike the sternum with a fist. Sometimes, though rarely, the hard, shocking blow would get the heart restarted. It was risky. She noted the strain on Mike’s face, the glistening sweat on his wrinkled brow. His eyes had turned a dark, stormy blue, and she knew all his focus was on his abilities as a paramedic, despite the many other emotions he had to be feeling.
“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked, holding the man’s head steady as Mike prepared to strike his chest.
“Yes. A damn good friend. God, I hope this works,” he said.
Mike measured where his fist would strike the man’s sternum. He gripped Tony’s shoulder to hold him in place. Raising his arm, he smashed his fist downward in a hard arc. Flesh met flesh. He heard his friend’s sternum crack loudly beneath his assault.
“Come on! Come on!” Houston snarled as he gripped the man’s lifeless shoulders and shook him hard. “Damn you, Tony!” he breathed into the man’s graying face, “don’t you dare die on me!” He put his fingers against his neck.
“Nothing,” he growled.
“Do it again,” Ann ordered in a hushed tone. She saw the fear in Houston’s eyes.
“He’s dumping on us….”
“I don’t care. It’s all we got! Hit him again!”
For a split second, Ann met his distraught eyes. And then he balled his fist again. Once the sternum was broken there was a danger that any further strikes to jolt the heart could create lacerations in the liver and possibly the heart itself, from fragments of bone that had been broken by the first blow. Antonio could bleed to death as a result.
“You mean son of a bitch,” Houston growled at Tony as he raised his fist. “You live! You hear me?” Then he brought his fist down just as hard as the first time.
The man’s whole body jarred and jerked beneath the second blow. Ann held the man’s head and neck in alignment and continued to pump oxygen into him. She watched as Mike leaned over to check for pulse and breathing. Whether it was because she was already numb with tiredness and drained emotionally, she didn’t know, but for a split second as he leaned down, snarling in Spanish at his friend, she thought she was seeing things.
Houston’s growling voice wasn’t human any longer. It sounded to her like a huge jungle cat. It shocked her, the primal, sound reverberating through every pore in her body as he leaned over and shook Antonio. She sensed an energy in the air, pummeling her repeatedly like wildly racing ocean waves. She realized it was emanating from Houston as he leaned over Antonio, almost willing him to breathe again.
“You’re not dying on me,” he rasped, striking him even harder than before, in the center of the chest. “Live! Live, you hear me?”
Ann blinked belatedly. As Houston struck the man a third time, she knew she was seeing things. His head disappeared, and in its place she saw the golden face of a jaguar or leopard, black crescent spots against gold fur. She was hallucinating! Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and opened them again. Mike was leaning over his friend, his fingers pressed insistently against his neck. My God, what was happening? What was she seeing? For the first time, Ann clearly realized that she was on a mission with an incredibly attractive man whose power was beyond her own rational mind.
“Tony!” he pleaded hoarsely. “Don’t die on me! Don’t!”
Houston’s plea shook her. Gone was the hard soldier’s mask. She trembled at the raw emotion of his voice. Tears stung her eyes. What a horrible thing to come home to—seeing a good friend go into cardiac arrest and then watching him die. Ann was ready to tell Mike that it was too late. Only seven percent of people suffering from a heart attack ever revived with the help of CPR.
Again she gazed up through her veil of tears. She no longer heard the onlookers or felt them closing in on them, inch by inch. She watched as Houston hunkered over the older man, gripping him by the shoulders and giving him a good, hard shake. Yet again Houston struck him in the chest.
“Mike—” she begged.
“Wait! A pulse! I’ve got a pulse!” He gave a cry of triumph and watched intensely as the man’s face began to lose some of its grayness. “Bag ’em hard,” he snapped. “Pump all the oxygen you can into him.” He grinned tightly and put a coat beneath the man’s legs to elevate them slightly. Leaning over him again, he called, “Tony? Tony, you hear me? Open those ugly eyes of yours and look up at me. It’s Mike. Mike Houston. Come on, buddy, you can do it. Open your eyes!” And he shook him again, all the time keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arms.
Houston watched the dark lashes tremble against the man’s pasty features. “That’s it, open your eyes. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay. Come on, come on back. You’re too mean to die yet….” Then he grinned as Tony opened his dark brown eyes and stared groggily up at him.
Almost immediately, the patient started gagging. Ann removed the bag-valve mask from his face, took out the breathing appliance and threw it aside. She quickly replaced the mask, holding it there until she and Mike were both sure he was getting enough oxygen and was breathing well on his own.
Houston heard Elena cry out her husband’s name as she bent over him.
“Calm down, Elena,” he coaxed, reaching across and soothingly moving his hand against her thin shoulder as she gripped her husband’s hand. “He’s okay….” Mike wasn’t sure how okay Antonio really was. He knew the man had suffered a massive heart attack. How bad, they’d only know after a series of tests at the hospital.
Risking a look up at Ann, who was still kneeling at Tony’s head, delivering the life-giving oxygen, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. They caught him completely off guard. Returning his attention to his friend, he reached down, got his stethoscope from the bag and listened intently to his heart. It was a good, strong beat. Then Mike took his blood pressure.
“Eighty over sixty,” he announced with satisfaction.
“It could be better,” Ann said.
Grimly, Mike deflated the blood pressure cuff. “Give him five minutes. He’s not dumping on us. Color’s flooding his face. His capillary refill is better,” he murmured as he pinched the index fingernail of Tony’s right hand. Normally, the capillary refill took two seconds or less to flow back into the pinched area. It was a good indicator that the heart was pumping strongly and normally, supplying the life-giving substance to even the farthest extremities of the body.
“Three seconds?” Ann asked.
Houston nodded. He waited to recheck the blood pressure, but five minutes seemed to take forever. Glancing at his watch, he wished the second hand would move faster.
Elena was speaking in hushed tones to her husband. When Tony tried to reach up and touch his wife’s wet, pale face, Mike grinned. “You’re gonna be fine, Tony. But right now, keep your hands off Elena, you hear me? Just lie there and let your strength come back.” He glanced at Ann. “Stop bagging him.”
She nodded and watched as he took another blood pressure reading. Houston’s expression was intense and hard now. She was seeing his professional side as a paramedic once more. He was very good at what he did. He had
an incredible confidence that radiated from him like the sun sending energy earthward. She watched as his thinned lips relaxed. A cocky, one-cornered smile tugged at his mouth as he removed the stethoscope from his ears and settled it around his thick, well-muscled neck. When he looked in her direction, she felt incredible tenderness coming from him. It wasn’t for her, but she basked in that invisible glow just the same. In that moment, he looked like a little boy, his blue eyes sparkling with unabashed joy.
“One-ten over eighty. He’s stabilizing. He’s through the worst of it.”
“Yes,” Ann quavered, giving him a trembling smile of triumph. “He’s going to live….”
Houston stood with Ann at his side as the ambulance paramedics took Antonio Valdez away on a gurney. Most of the crowd had disappeared now that the life-and-death drama was over. Without thinking, Mike put his hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a welcome to Lima.”
Ann felt the warm strength of his hand. She recognized his gesture for what it was. People in the medical field had to be devoid of emotion, keep ahead of the curve in any emergency, think rationally and stay calm when everything around them was shaking apart. She lifted her chin and met Mike’s blue gaze, absorbing his touch, the energy that seemed to tingle from his hand into her shoulder. It made her feel safe and cared for. His touch felt like life itself throbbing through her. It wasn’t the first time she had felt this unusual sensation. Now it was far more palpable and comforting. A soft smile flitted across her face. “Yes, it was…but you were good. Very good. You knew what to do.” Her heart expanded wildly. How could she stand the thought of not being near Mike? Suddenly, Ann realized how much her life had changed since he had walked into it.
Digesting the feelings that overrode her normal fears, she understood for the first time how much Houston had become a part of her, and vice versa, it seemed. They had been a good team. They’d worked as one. Perhaps it was due to sleep deprivation, but there in the Lima terminal Ann listened to her heart more closely than she had in a long time.
Houston absorbed that hesitant, fleeting smile Ann gave him. How beautiful she was, even though her hair was in mild disarray and her white blouse rumpled from the long flight. “So were you. We’re a good team, you and I.” And then he grinned. “Even if we do fight like dogs and cats.” He didn’t want to remove his hand, but he knew it was best. Allowing it to fall back to his side, Mike thought he saw a fleeting darkness in Ann’s wide, intelligent eyes. Unable to interpret what it meant, he cocked his head.
“Let me at least buy you a good cup of espresso before I leave for the clinic. It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping save Tony’s life. I owe you one….”
Ann frowned. “I’ll take the offer, but what makes you think you’re leaving this terminal without me?” For better or worse, she had made a decision to stay—because of her feelings toward Mike. She was scared to death, but she had to take the risk. Her mind screamed at her that she was a fool, but her heart was expanding with such joy over her decision that she felt breathless. Inwardly, she knew she was making the right choice, regardless of her dark, haunting past.
Scowling, Houston halted abruptly and turned to face her. There was surprise written on his features. “You made it very clear you didn’t want to be down here with me,” he began slowly, his voice low with raw feeling. Tony almost dying had left Mike more vulnerable than usual. He was afraid to believe what he’d just heard. His heart pounded briefly to underscore his need for Ann. His fear. Mike searched her calm features. Her eyes shone with hope. The fear was still there, but it had lessened. What was going on? Stunned by her words, he rasped, “Or was I hearing wrong?”
“You didn’t hear wrong, Mike. I changed my mind, that’s all. You got a problem with that?” Ann held his flaring look of surprise. She felt an avalanche of that powerful energy deluge her momentarily. She remembered how, when she was bagging Antonio, she’d seen the awe in people’s faces as Mike worked over the man. All eyes had been riveted on him as he struggled to save his friend’s life.
There was no question in her mind why Houston was not only a leader, but one that few people, including herself, could resist. Even if it was dangerous to her wounded heart. She was too afraid, still, to admit for sure why she agreed to stay on. Only time would tell, and another six weeks would hopefully yield the answer she was searching for.
Her mouth twisted wryly. “This is probably the sorriest decision I’ll ever make, Houston, but I’m sticking it out down here for six weeks. With or without you. I honor Morgan’s commitments. I go where he sends me.” She saw hope burning fiercely in Mike’s eyes, and more…much more….
Mike just stared at her for a moment. Here was the confident, gutsy woman he knew lived inside her, but who he’d rarely seen. The question why are you staying? was almost torn from him, but he forced the words back down. Whether Ann knew it or not, he had a powerful, ongoing connection with her. He sensed a lot more about her than she realized. He knew she was scared, but he also sensed her feelings for him—feelings that had existed all along but that she’d refused to share with him. Now, for whatever reason, she was doing that. Euphoria robbed Mike momentarily of words. Was it possible that she was going to allow their relationship to grow? The thought was heady. Wild. Full of promise. At the same time, he felt full of fear for an uncertain future. Those he cared for died. She would die, too. No, he had to keep his distance. He had to protect her from himself at all costs. His whole life was committed to killing Eduardo Escovar. Mike was in a death spiral dance with the drug lord and he had no room for a woman in his life. Especially a woman like Ann Parsons. Another part of him, one that surprised the hell out of him, reveled in her decision to remain with him in Peru, regardless.
Ann watched a slow grin crawl across his face. Houston had such a strong, chiseled mouth. A beautiful mouth, she admitted. One that she wanted to feel against her lips again and again. For whatever reason, she felt bolder than she had in a long time. Maybe seeing Antonio almost die had ripped away something inside her, made her realize life was precious and should be lived in the moment, not hidden in some dark closet of fear…. Chagrined, Ann cut off the thoughts and feelings that seem to grow like grass whenever she was around the charismatic army officer.
“Well,” she challenged, her voice husky, “are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to buy me that espresso you promised?”
Snapping into action, Houston slid his hand around her upper arm and guided her forward. “No, ma’am, I’ll buy you that well-deserved cup of espresso.” He felt edgy with fear. He was raw with wanting. Wanting her. Breath-stealing elation raced through him as Ann strode at his side. This time she didn’t seem to mind his hand on her arm. Indeed, it was as if she liked it there. But Houston didn’t fool himself. They’d just been through a very intense life-and-death situation. He found it normal that medicos automatically drew close to one another for emotional support after a crisis was over. It was only human, he warned himself. Still, his fingers tingled wildly as he felt the slip and slide of Ann’s light wool blazer against the white silk of her blouse, the firmness of her flesh beneath it. He reveled in the pleasurable sensation, feeling once again like a greedy beggar taking whatever crumbs she’d unknowingly thrown out to him.
Had Antonio’s heart attack triggered her own need to live life more fully? To possibly reach out to him? Grinning recklessly, laughter rumbling up from his chest, he said, “This has been one wild ride so far, Dr. Parsons, and the day is young yet….”
She raised one brow and glanced up at him as they walked. “I give you that,” she replied, her pulse speeding up. The undisguised happiness in Mike’s eyes affected her, left her aching to kiss him, to feel his hands slide around her torso as he pulled her uncompromisingly against his body. She longed to experience his sweet assault upon her senses once again, and it almost overwhelmed her.
When Mike glanced down at her, he realized in that split second that Ann had dropped her guard, because she was
grinning, too. There was bright color in her cheeks, and she looked damn beautiful when she blushed. Instantly, she turned away to avoid his eyes. But not even that could mar Houston’s happiness at her decision to stay in Peru.
To hell with it. Mike threw all caution aside. “Come here….” he murmured huskily as he drew Ann out of the traffic of the busy terminal. Backing her against the wall, he leaned close to her. In her eyes he read the need she felt for him, and registered in every fiber of his being. The connection between them was as palpable as the feel of his fingers as he grazed the slope of her flushed cheek.
“I need you,” he rasped, placing his hand against her cheek and guiding her face upward. The driving need to kiss her and the need he saw in her eyes made him let down his own guard for this one, exquisite moment. He saw her eyes widen momentarily, heard her breath hitch. He sensed her emotional response, and it felt damn good washing through him. Smiling tenderly down at her as he lightly brushed her parting lips with his, he saw the fear in her eyes dissolve. Yes, she wanted this as much as he did.
For one heated moment out of time, all the terminal sounds, the people’s voices, faded from Ann’s awareness. All she’d longed for moments ago was happening. Somehow, Mike had known she needed him. It was all so crazy. So mixed up. Yet as she lifted her chin and felt his strong mouth settle upon her lips, nothing had ever felt so right. So pure. So devastatingly beautiful. His strong arm moved around her back and she felt him pull her against him. There was no mistaking his gesture; it was clearly that of a man claiming his woman.
Her lashes swept downward and the ache inside her intensified as his mouth skimmed hers. How good he tasted! She inhaled his very male scent into her quivering nostrils, slid her hands upward against his barrel chest, her fingers digging convulsively against the fabric of his shirt, marveling in the strength of his muscles tightening beneath her exploration. His mouth slid surely against her lips, rocking them open even farther, his tongue thrusting boldly into her mouth. She gave a moan of sweet surrender as she lost herself in the fiery, hungry mating. All that existed in that moment was Mike, his maleness, his tender domination of her as a woman yielding to him in almost every way possible. Oh, how stupid she had been not to give herself to him sooner!
Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar Page 6