Taken With The Enemy

by Tia Fanning

  "I know that dealing with the family comes as part of the job, but I was starting to let their pain affect me personally. The grief, the anger, sometimes the accusations that I hadn't done enough, that somehow their death was a result of my negligence. It was starting to get to me. I began to wonder if they were right, that maybe I hadn't done enough to save their loved one, or if I had done this instead of that, the patient would still be alive.

  "When working emergency room trauma, you don't have the luxury of time. Since every second counts when it comes to saving someone's life, you have to make decisions quickly. But I found that I was starting to hesitate, and to second-guess myself. I knew then I needed a break.

  "As a combat medic, no one expects miracles. All they expect is that I do the best I can to stabilize the patient until they could make it to a doctor. I thought it was good choice for me for many reasons. I could get out of the hospital setting for a while, but still work in the medical field. I could also do my part for my country and help our injured troops. I felt that my schooling and experience with trauma would be an added benefit. I knew that medic training would be a breeze, and I was already accustomed to dealing with the severely wounded, the concept triage, stressful situations and hard decisions. Nor would I break my oath as a doctor and cause harm, because I would only use my weapon for my own protection. I also thought I might learn something new, get to travel the world, and I could do both jobs, as the hospital would hold my position while I was away on duty. One weekend a month, two weeks a year, and couple of deployments thrown in."

  Hell, I only had one question left to answer, but I needed to think of the best way to put it.

  Stalling, I nibbled on my toast and took a sip of juice. “Thank you for breakfast by the way."

  "Anything for you."

  I smiled. “How do you always know the right thing to say? Is your suaveness a part of your training, like your ability to read people?"

  "That's a loaded question,” he chuckled.

  "How so?"

  "If I say formal training, then you'll think everything I say from here on out is not from my heart, but out of practice. If I say a natural ability, then you will think I have had lot of a practice, and that I must have manipulated and seduced many women to hone those skills."

  "You know me so well?"

  "I want to know you even better."

  "See!” I squealed. “That's what I mean! I never had a chance, did I?"

  He laughed.

  "Why did you take my dog tags?” I asked. “You said you've known since the day we met that I was a doctor. But I know you found that out with the personal information on my tags. What made you take them in the first place?"

  "I don't know. There was something special about you. I watched you work on that wounded soldier and knew you were more than what you seemed. And when I pulled you into my arms, you felt like you belonged there. I had the strongest urge to know more about the angel of mercy I'd stumbled upon. When I found out you were a doctor, I thought that it was fate intervening, sending me a sign. We needed a doctor, and I needed to see you again. How could I ignore it?"

  How could I not love him? “I wouldn't have believed that such a man as you would put so much stock in fate."

  "I believe everything happens for a reason. There was a reason why we met, a reason far more important than completing the mission, capturing the bad guy, or—"

  Someone pounded on the front door.

  I saw an expression of apprehension cross his face before he masked it with a small smile. “Give me a moment."

  The muted discussion lasted under a minute.

  He returned, sat on the bed, his eyes shuttered, distant. I knew there was something wrong. I wanted to ask, but I knew he'd never say what it was. I began to wonder if the way he kept secrets was official procedure, or if it was his way of protecting me from the horrors of the world.

  "I have to leave again for a couple of days. Will you be okay?"

  I nodded.

  He leaned in and placed his lips on mine. Despite the tension in his body, his kiss was warm and gentle.

  He pulled away and caressed my hair. “Be good while I'm away,” he murmured.

  "I will."

  I closed my eyes as he gave me another brief kiss, and then he was gone.

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  Chapter Twenty

  On the afternoon of the seventh day, I shot up from the couch when my front door crashed open.

  "Doctor, we need you,” my captor hollered.

  He began unlocking the secret ‘not a torture chamber’ room while behind him, two men waited, holding tight to a third guy who was muttering and falling in and out of consciousness.

  "What happened?"

  My captor opened the door and ushered us all in. I took two steps inside and stopped. I felt like I was standing in an emergency room resuscitation bay. This room had all the same equipment.

  The patient began struggling. The two men deposited him on the hospital bed and held him in place while my captor strapped him down. Once secured, they went about removing the patient's clothing and hooking him up to monitoring machines.

  Lesions?

  I blinked twice to be sure.

  No. Burn holes. The patient's torso had burn holes, like those produced from a lit cigarette. There was bruising and lacerations covering his ribs.

  "Brenna!"

  Hearing my name shook me out of my stupor.

  I scurried over to where my captor was holding out latex gloves. “We'll be your nurses. Tell us what you want us to do."

  I looked at him in disbelief.

  "We've had some training. We'll know what you mean. Just hurry."

  The patient was flushed, twitching, his eyes roaming around the room, the pupils dilated. Clearly he'd been tortured, but something other than his physical injuries was causing these symptoms. What was I missing?

  It was then I noticed his arms. He'd been injected—more than once.

  "What did you all give him?” I asked, leveling the men an accusing glare.

  "Nothing,” my captor muttered. “He's one of ours. We just got him back."

  Leaning in, I placed my hands on the side of the patient's face. “I need you to look at me,” I stated calmly. When he didn't comply, I asked again, stoking his hair back in a soothing manner.

  His frantic gaze found mine.

  "There you are. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  He nodded, grimacing in concentration or pain. I wasn't sure which.

  "You were injected with something. Do you know what it might be?"

  "Dr—drugs,” he stuttered.

  "Do you know what kind?"

  He trembled beneath my fingers, his breathing growing shallow. His eyelids began to flutter close.

  "Stay with me,” I urged. “Do you know what drug?"

  "Ss-ser-rum."

  He then fell into unconsciousness.

  I looked at my captor. “Serum?"

  "Truth serum. Probably a barbiturate like sodium thiopental. Or some type of benzodiazepine. But I could be wrong."

  Shit. They must have given him too much.

  "Which one was most likely administered?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don't know."

  Then all I could do was treat the symptoms and pray that his body would decontaminate itself quickly. “Put him on oxygen and start an IV."

  * * * *

  "Brenna,” I heard my captor say.

  I opened my eyes to find him standing over me, a mug in his hands.

  "Oh, there's coffee?” I asked.

  "This is for you."

  "You are wonderful.” I began the agonizing task of unfurling my stiff legs from the chair I'd been sleeping in. Someone, probably him, had put a blanket over me during my nap. Once I was unfurled, I took the steaming cup from his hands and sipped the much needed caffeine.

  "You even added cream and sugar just how I like. How did you know?

  "You're sw
eet and creamy, so I assumed that's how you'd prefer your coffee."

  I giggled like a little school girl. “Thanks. But I wish you wouldn't have let me fall asleep."

  "You needed to rest."

  I looked over to the bed next to me. “And if the patient had taken a turn for the worse?"

  "I was around. I would've woken you up."

  Rolling my shoulders, I tried to get all the kinks out. “You would've made a great nurse. Are there anymore talents I should know about?"

  He maneuvered himself behind my chair. “I'm very good at massages."

  I closed my eyes and let my head drop forward as he began kneading the sore and tired muscles in my neck. Sighing in contentment, my body relaxed under his expert ministrations, so much so, I could almost fall asleep again.

  "You have wonderful fingers,” I murmured.

  "I'm glad you enjoy them so much."

  Many wicked thoughts came to my mind.

  Shit. I needed to think of something else. Like my patient.

  I stood to my feet. “Just out of curiosity, what happened to your last doctor? The one before me?"

  "He had to leave."

  "Am I allowed to know why? Or is that a big secret as well.” I asked, checking the monitors.

  "He was having a problem maintaining his medications."

  "Like he couldn't get them shipped here?"

  "No, like he was ingesting too many."

  I cringed. “Yikes."

  The hallway phone rang.

  "That's my cue,” he said. “I have to go for a little bit, but I'll be in the building. If you need anything, or he wakes up, give us a call."

  "Oh, okay."

  He crossed the room and placed a gentle kiss on my head. “I'll come back as soon as I can."

  I watched him leave, in a way already missing his reassuring presence. The front door opened and closed, but was missing the usual jingle and click.

  Ha. He didn't lock me in.

  Donning my stethoscope, I leaned over the wounded man and checked his heart and lungs. Thankfully, everything sounded clear. I sighed in relief and pulled the instrument off my ears. My patient was going to make it.

  Deciding to take a few minutes to enjoy my coffee, I returned to it and picked up the magazine I'd been reading before my nap. Taking a sip of invigorating brew, I opened to the folded page. It didn't take me long to finish the cup. Like everything else my captor prepared in the kitchen, even his coffee was perfect.

  He was perfect.

  I put my mug down and rose from the chair, stretching. “Let's see how my patient is doing, now."

  Pulling back the sheet to his hips, I began checking the wounds that lay scattered across his chest. The poor man. I couldn't imagine, but I could see, the torment he had endured. I started to lift a bandage up on one of the more serious—

  A hand snaked out and captured my wrist in a vice grip.

  "You're hurting me,” I informed him slowly.

  My patient opened his eyes. When he saw me, he released his hold.

  "Sorry,” he croaked.

  "It's okay. How are you feeling?"

  "Exhausted, sore, and thirsty. Feel like I'm hung over, but I don't remember all of the party."

  "That's understandable. You were drugged,” I explained. “Give me a moment and I'll get you something to drink."

  I went to the counter and opened a bottle of water, pouring a tiny amount into a small plastic cup. I returned and placed the cup up to his lips.

  "Slowly,” I cautioned. “Baby sips."

  When it was all gone, he offered his ‘thanks'.

  As I went to throw the plastic out, I heard my patient groan. I spun around only to find him trying to rise out of bed. I rushed back and gently pressed on his shoulders.

  "No, no, no. Not yet."

  "I have to talk to the others,” he strained

  "They can come to you. They'll be back shortly."

  My words seemed to appease him. Grimacing, he settled back onto his pillow. “The bastards really did a number on me, didn't they?"

  I nodded. “But considering all you've been through, you're doing very well. Your ribs are bruised, but not broken. There appears to be no internal bleeding. As long as you take care of the burns and cuts and keep them clean, you'll be back to work in no time."

  "That's good to know.” He exhaled heavily, then offered me a small smile. “So when did you get here?"

  "About a month ago."

  "That's why we haven't met. I've been gone for two."

  "You were held captive for that long?"

  He chuckled a little, something that seemed to cause him great pain. “No, they did this damage in less than three days."

  "I'm sorry,” I whispered.

  "Don't be. We all knew when we signed up that this could happen. So how do you like it here?"

  "It's okay. It was rough at first, but things have gotten better."

  "Yeah, these remote assignments can be a bitch,” he said, opening his eyes to meet my gaze. “But this is one of the better safe houses to be assigned to. The accommodations here are nicer than most."

  Safe house? Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! He really didn't know! No wonder he was talking to me. No one must have told him about the circumstances that brought me here.

  A small lump of guilt dropped into my stomach. Even though he didn't know he wasn't supposed to be talking to me, I knew he wasn't supposed to. Perhaps I should tell him. I didn't want him to get into trouble. Anyway, I still needed to call—

  "Are you all right?” he asked.

  "Yes, why?"

  He stared at me in confusion. “You're very uncomfortable all of a sudden."

  Crap. He was just like my captor, gifted with uncanny observational abilities. It was like being around a bunch of friggin human lie detectors. It was as fascinating as it was unnerving. I knew I should just end the conversation and walk away. That would be the right thing to do. But I was kind of curious to see how far this would go.

  My patient already sensed something peculiar was up. How long would it take him to figure out that I wasn't whatever he was?

  Tell only truths, Brenna.

  "I'm just tired."

  He lifted his head off the pillow. “So how did you get this assignment?"

  This was chance to fess up, to be up-front and honest and tell him that I wasn't exactly assigned here, but more like kidnapped and brought here against my will.

  Wait. Not yet.

  I shrugged. “You all needed a doctor and I was available."

  When he continued to stare blankly at me, I broke under the pressure and glanced away. I knew that look very well. It was the same one my captor gave when he was trying to read me after I didn't reply the way he wanted or expected. My stomach knotted in apprehension. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my rattled nerves.

  "Say that again? I think the drugs have muddled my brain."

  "They have,” a deep, familiar voice offered. “You're talking way too much."

  I looked over my shoulder and found my captor leaning against the doorway, his muscular arms casually folded across his broad chest. My stomach fluttered. Freshly showered and dressed, he was pure masculine sexiness, right down to the cocky smirk on his handsome face.

  "I am?” my patient asked.

  "We borrowed the good doctor from the US military."

  Shaking his head, my patient looked to me and smiled. “Tatakallami Arabi?"

  "Laa—no, she doesn't,” my captor answered on my behalf.

  Then my patient began spouting rapid Arabic.

  There was a heavy sigh. “He's sorry, he didn't know, but he thanks you for taking such good care of him,” my captor translated in that ‘blah, blah, blah’ sing-song voice. “He feels bad for putting you in this awkward position, he hopes you understand, rules are rules, but he very much enjoyed what little time you two spent talking together."

  My patient glared toward the door.

  My capture rolled his eyes. �
��What? Did I forget to tell her something?"

  There was a muttered reply.

  An exchange of words commenced.

  Like watching a ping-pong game, my head bounced between the two men as incomprehensible dialogue shot back and forth across the room.

  "But she knew better,” my captor concluded with a shrug.

  "What?” I asked automatically, hearing the feminine pronoun.

  "Nothing,” he said with a flippant wave. “He's just trying to defend you. First, he told me to stop being impolite, then he was telling me that this whole situation concerning you was his fault. But when I pointed out—"

  The bedside team interjected.

  "And now he's telling me I need to be nicer to you."

  "Oh.” I looked over to my patient and gave him a big, sweet smile. “Thanks."

  He gave me that ‘no problem, I got your back’ wink.

  "You're actually agreeing with him?” I heard my captor express in mock disbelief.

  Turning my attention back toward the doorway, I opened my mouth to utter a retort, but found my words stolen off my tongue by a sinfully sexy smile and a pair of eyes that sparkled with a deliciously devilish gleam.

  "I-um...” I couldn't form a rational thought

  His heated gaze roamed over my body, lingering far too long on certain key areas, before returning to silently convey a promise of unspoken carnal delights if I responded correctly.

  My breath froze and my blood ignited.

  He raised his eyebrows in question. “Yes? You were saying, doctor?"

  Thankfully, my escort appeared, saving me from having to come up with an answer.

  Grinning, my captor leisurely strolled over and cupped my elbow. “Doctor, your relief is here. Time for you to take a break."

  I managed to mumble a goodbye and a ‘check on you later’ to my patient before I was ushered out the room.

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  "You are a wicked man,” I hissed.

  "And you, my dear, are a naughty girl,” he replied, shaking his head. He opened the front door and guided me into the corridor.

  "How so?"

  Slowing his pace, he leaned in, placing his lips near my ear. “Plying your patient for information. You should be ashamed."