“Complicated,” Paige supplied then, reluctantly, lifted her hands from his face.
“Damn I hate this,” Rick breathed. He squeezed her hips between his hands then backed away from her. “There can be no contact between us. No touching. No looks and all I want to do is look into those beautiful eyes of yours and see that you want me. See that you want to run that sweet, pink tongue of yours over every inch of me.”
Paige shuddered, feeling the truth in his words. “Stop talking like that,” she begged quietly. “I can’t hide if you say things like that to me. You’re torturing me and I’m not strong enough to take it.”
Nodding, Rick swallowed uneasily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took another step back and looked away deliberately. “I’m saying it because I want you to come at me. Take this decision out of my hands.” He shut his eyes, hiding from the truth, hiding from the hurt he knew he’d see in her because he was deliberately causing it.
Chuckling mirthlessly, Paige stepped out of his grasp and retrieved her handbag. She started combing through the grass for the ampoule of antibiotic he’d thrown. “Sorry we’re late LT,” she said in a pretty good imitation of Rick’s voice. “It wasn’t my fault. That new medic’s stronger than she looks. Grabbed the wheel right out of my hand. Threw me onto the hood and ravished me. Had her way with me and there was nothing I could do to stop her. Made me feel dirty all over.” She found the ampoule. It wasn’t damaged. She put it back in her bag and hopped back into the four-by-four. “Get in,” she ordered quietly when Rick laid his hands on her door. “Drive. And keep your hands to yourself.”
It was easier said than done and Rick squeezed the steering wheel so hard he was surprised the leather didn’t rip right off it when Paige got out a brush and smoothed out her hair. That silky, fiery hair that he remembered, with aching clarity, clutching between his fingers and using to hold her to him while he kissed her. He looked away when she reached into the back seat and picked up the straw hat he’d thrown back there.
The small radio, hidden beneath the dash, chirped. It sounded like a rattle under the hood rather than a communication signal. He fished out the microphone and took a deliberate breath before switching it on.
“This is Charlie vehicle. Returning to base. Estimated arrival time three minutes. Over.” He switched off the microphone, replaced it and exhaled. “We’ll be ten minutes overdue and I forgot to advise them. Fuckin’ newbie mistake.” Rick resisted the urge to look over at Paige, resisted the urge to tell her how much she rattled him, shot his discipline and his focus all to hell. It would just be another shot at torturing her. He could tell from her silence that she was already suffering enough. Probably—hopefully—as much as him. He didn’t want her to hurt but he did want her. When this was over he’d like to take her off somewhere warm and tropical and on extended leave, then he’d...
Like every soft, loving, erotic feeling he had for this woman, Rick shot it down deliberately, packed it away for an appropriate moment...any moment...just so long as it wasn’t this one. He pulled off onto a side road then up the trail where their camp was hidden. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a sentry stepping out behind their vehicle and replacing the shield of cut branches and forest litter to hide the entrance.
When they pulled in to camp, Lieutenant Pembroke walked up to the driver’s side and opened the door as soon as they stopped. He looked at Rick then Paige. His intense, gray eyes bored into them both but he didn’t say anything.
“We need to talk, LT,” Rick said evenly as he killed the engine.
Lieutenant Pembroke led them to his tent and held the flap aside. Closing it behind them, he laid a hand on Paige’s chin and tipped her head up. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the faint swelling that was starting to show on either side of her face. Glaring at his sergeant for a quick instant, he opened up his duffle bag, rummaged around and got out a cold pack. He shook it to activate it and tossed it to Paige before seating them around the small table in his tent. She held the cold pack to the more swollen side of her face and kept her mouth shut, waiting for Rick to speak.
“Corporal Wynn made contact with two petitioners—Sam and Flint Keane. She has arranged for us to meet them tomorrow.”
The Lieutenant sat back hard in his chair. “I didn’t hear the words scrub the mission in that statement, Sergeant,” he pointed out coldly.
Rick watched Paige switch the cold pack to the other side of her face and his mouth thinned. “The Corporal has convinced me the mission doesn’t have to be scrubbed.”
It was a long, intense moment before the lieutenant replied. “And you believe her because?”
“Because I do,” Rick answered quietly and waited. He watched his lieutenant—his friend and the man he’d worked beside for four years—get up and pace the floor. He wanted to see understanding in those hard, gray eyes yet knew he wouldn’t. Lieutenant Pembroke was like him, born to be recon, focused and ruthless in the name of making the world better.
“Meet them,” the lieutenant agreed grudgingly then pointed at Rick. “But you do it alone. I’ll let you risk your own lives but nobody else’s. There will be no cavalry waiting in the wings to bail you out when things go sour.”
Rick heard the implications in the lieutenant’s words. No controlled meeting site, no platoon of armed and rabid killing machines watching his back. The men would have to be held back forcibly—ordered not to back their sergeant up—but the lieutenant would do it.
“And if you ever break protocol again, Corporal, your ass is fired.” The lieutenant turned his anger on Paige. His voice was so deep and ominous she had to fight down the urge to run away. “We’ll haul you back to that reclamation unit faster than you can say railroaded and this unit will shut down until we can get a medic who isn’t stupid enough to play cowgirl her first assignment.”
“Yes, sir,” Paige replied obediently and surprised herself when she was able to meet the lieutenant’s eyes squarely.
He took the icepack from her, tossed it aside and jerked his head in the direction of the tent flap. “Dismissed.”
Paige left without another word.
Standing up slowly, Rick walked toward the exit but Lieutenant Pembroke moved into his path. He deliberately didn’t hold out his hand to stop him. With their combined intensity, the move could only be interpreted as hostile. That much high emotion in an enclosed environment with two trained killing machines wouldn’t be optimal.
“I want you to tell me it’s finished, Rick.”
Rick stared at his CO. The scar across Ed’s cheek and the bridge of his nose was dark with rage. Ed had been his friend for so long and they’d been in combat together so often they could read each other. Rick knew Ed could smell his attraction to Paige. Hell, he could probably smell her on Rick’s hands. He knew their newbie had been allowed to approach locals directly, that Rick hadn’t been in control of her movements. It had been the sergeant’s fault she’d exposed their presence. Their new medic hadn’t screwed up, he had.
“It’s finished,” Rick answered with painful finality and left the tent.
The next morning, Rick and Paige drove up to the Keane’s farmhouse. The icepacks Paige had used yesterday had worked. There was no bruising or swelling on her face. She’d used the icepacks in private because it wouldn’t do to have the other members of the unit know she’d been manhandled. It would add an unwanted and distracting dimension to their relationship with their sergeant because there was only one man who would have had an opportunity to handle her.
He was currently sitting beside her, his eyes constantly scanning the territory around them. But they were committed to this course and he switched off the ignition, got out and came around her side of the Jeep to help her down. They were still masquerading as a couple, although if they were walking into a trap, it wouldn’t matter what their story was. They’d be dead, probably even before they knocked on the door, or worse.
A dog trotted up to them and Paige held out her hand for it t
o sniff.
“Yeah...just be grateful she isn’t packing a sidearm,” Rick murmured absently as he scratched the animal’s neck. He and Paige headed for the house.
He knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately.
“Rick. Paige.” Sam Keane welcomed them warmly then stepped aside. They and the dog walked in.
The front room of the Keane’s farmhouse was furnished with worn, comfortable sofas and chairs. Walls that had once been pale blue were faded and blotchy. An old upright piano stood in one corner. The carpet was threadbare but the place smelled faintly of beeswax and lemon. Every inch of it was spotlessly clean.
Flint Keane was sitting on one of the sofas with his leg propped up on a cushion.
Rick spun around when he saw someone move at the base of the stairs. His pistol was out of its holster in an instant and his big body moved between Paige and the fifth person in the room.
“Guess you are military. We suspected as much.” It was a woman’s voice, mature, quiet and composed as she stepped into the full light of the room.
“Please don’t shoot her,” Flint Keane spoke up dryly from the sofa. “She hasn’t cooked supper yet.”
“Saucy brat,” the woman tossed back at him then returned her attention to Rick and held out her hand. “I’m Flora Keane. The one responsible for unleashing these two reprobates on society...may God have mercy on me,” she added with a dramatic sigh.
Rick lowered his weapon and shook her hand. Flora Keane was medium height and pushing sixty. Her once blonde hair was liberally streaked with gray and she had the same warm, brown eyes as her sons. “Missus Keane,” Rick acknowledged politely then stepped past her. “Mind if I look around?” he said, raising his weapon again and walking through the main floor of the house. He looked out the windows before he moved past them.
“Makes himself right at home, doesn’t he?” Flora snorted then stretched out her foot in Paige’s direction. “I’ll need a smaller size,” she said, showing that she was wearing Rick’s hand-crafted shoes.
Paige smiled and nodded quickly. “We’ll get that taken care of, Missus Keane. But first,” she turned to Flint. “I need you to take your pants off.”
Flint’s brown eyes blazed with undisguised lust. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear a redhead say those exact words to me? Do you?” He levered his leg off the sofa and stood carefully. “Paige, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life and if I live I promise to devote myself to meeting your every...your every desire,” he repeated, ogling her body yet smiling so wistfully, so guilelessly, Paige laughed instead of smacking him.
“Yeah, yeah,” his brother, Sam, groused, taking Flint’s elbow to steady him. “Listen, Paige, don’t believe him. I know we’ve just met but I can feel the chemistry, you know? We’d be great together.”
“Twins,” Missus Keane grumbled, “gotta hate ‘em.” Shaking her head, she headed for the kitchen where Paige heard her using a hand pump to fill a kettle with water.
Flint dropped his pants brazenly and sat back down. Paige ignored the fact he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His brother grabbed a cushion and threw it into his lap. “Hide your shortcomings, little brother. There’s a lady present. And a very beautiful lady,” Sam added. He picked up Paige’s hand and, with his dark, soulful gaze fixed on her, smoothed his lips across the back of her fingers.
“How old are you two anyway?” Paige asked, pulling her hand away and reaching for her bag.
“Twenty eight,” they answered at the same time.
“Imagine that. Twenty eight, full of...charm,” she said with a quick grin. “Yet still unattached,” she added as she unwrapped the cloth bandage around Flint’s leg. The bandage was clean and it felt like it had been boiled.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Flint piped up. His eyes slammed shut and every muscle in his face contorted when Paige touched his leg.
The wound was ugly. There was a raw and multi-colored gash in the side of his calf, deep into the muscle with thin, dark lines spreading out from it...fingers of putrification. The same smell Paige had noticed yesterday hit her and she grabbed her shoulder bag to hide her reaction. After pulling out a small medical kit, she drew on a pair of sterile gloves. She knelt down beside Flint and when she glanced back up, she saw that Sam was now standing beside his brother with his sun-darkened, rough hand on Flint’s head.
“What happened?” she asked and swabbed disinfectant around the wound. She injected a local anesthetic.
“Axe,” Flint answered succinctly. His lips pulled back from his teeth for just an instant. “I missed the log.”
Paige nodded perfunctorily. “That’ll do it, all right,” she said dryly then held a sterile dressing to the wound when it opened and a thin stream of dark pus shot out.
“Say, Paige...you ever thought about doing it with twins?” Flint asked earnestly. His voice shook only a little and his smile was more grimace than grin.
“Think of it as our way of paying you back for services rendered,” Sam added.
She looked up at them and grinned crookedly. Sam and Flint Keane were undeniably good looking and so charming even their shameless come-ons had a beguiling quality. Both a few inches taller than her, they had wavy, dark blond hair and brown eyes. The color combination was striking and dead sexy. Being egg farmers had provided a steady source of protein to their diet and they were fit and muscular.
Even though Flint looked like death warmed over and was leaking pus, he still managed to be as hot as his brother.
Without answering, Paige returned her attention to Flint’s wound. She injected more anesthetic. “There’s some necrotic tissue that’ll have to be cut away. We’ll start you on an aggressive broad-spectrum antibiotic,” she said calmly and looked up at Sam. “Hand me the dish and the little silver case in there, will you? Thanks. Open it please.”
She lifted out a scalpel and forceps from the sterile container.
“Just promise me you’ll respect him in the morning, Paige,” Sam whispered huskily. He looked away when she started to cut.
Paige felt more than heard Rick return. She glanced up and saw him pale when he realized what she was doing.
“Listen, Paige...” Sam swallowed unsteadily. “Seriously now, you should stick around for awhile. Get to know us better.”
“Yeah,” Flint chimed in. “We’re funny, sensitive—”
“About to get your heads twisted off,” Rick interrupted coldly.
“Hey, man...we’d never try to move in on another guy’s woman. But she is so obviously not yours,” Sam chided.
“If you’re going to pretend to be a couple,” Flint added, “you’ve got to stop looking like you can’t believe your luck every time she holds your hand.”
“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “Yesterday, you looked like a virgin on harvest-dance night.” His good humor dimmed when Rick’s eyes narrowed. He relaxed a little when Rick holstered his weapon.
Missus Keane came back carrying a tea tray, breaking the tension in the room. She alone watched Paige’s work calmly. “Will he lose the leg?” she asked bluntly.
“Not if I can help it,” Paige answered quickly. She packed some gauze into the wound and disinfected the front of Flint’s elbow. “You’ve done a good job keeping it clean. Now we let the medicine do its work. I think you’ll recover fully although you’ll have a helluva scar. We’ll know more in twenty-four hours,” Paige added firmly as she injected antibiotics into a bag of saline solution and started an IV. “Watch closely,” she said and showed the three of them how to hook the bag up to the line in Flint’s arm. She prepared four more bags, gave them to Missus Keane then started the laborious process of stitching up Flint’s wound. Starting at the deepest part, Paige worked out from there.
Missus Keane picked up the dish holding the putrefied bits of her son’s wound and left the room. When she came back the dish was empty and washed. “We’ll pay you in eggs,” Missus Keane said to Rick. “Or labor if you need—”
“No, Missus Keane,” Rick interrupted softly. He glanced out the window once more and walked toward her. “What we give is free. No debt to pay back. No quid pro quo. If we want more eggs, we’ll barter goods for them.”
She smiled then hugged him fiercely. Rick returned her embrace gently. When she finally let him go, Rick resumed moving around the room, looking out the windows. “Tell me about the local bad guys,” he said evenly. “Names. Numbers. Affiliations. Where they live. Where they hang out. How they operate.” He walked over to Paige’s medkit, got out her portable computer and set it to record.
Chapter Three
The next morning, four hours before sunrise, the twelve members of the South East District’s Eaglebird Recon Unit took up positions around a dilapidated one-story house five kilometers outside of Edenton. They were silent and unseen as they moved through the tall grasses and encroaching trees.
From her position well behind the tree line, Paige heard the dull thrump of four canister launchers firing simultaneously, the sharp crack of glass shattering, and bangs loud as thunder as intense flashes of light seared her vision. Thick, white smoke rolled out through the broken windows.
Coughing, swearing then doors banging open. Screens slamming.
Paige’s earpiece was frighteningly silent. She knew her platoon was out there, every one of them jacked into the same communication system as her but their predatory silence was unnerving. Her earpiece began transmitting sound—a grunt as she saw dark shapes rush a man stumbling out the front door. The shapes launched themselves at him and brought him down in tumbling, sprawling submission. Another low sound as two more shapes rushed a second man climbing out a side window.
Deliberately calming herself and widening her focus, hearing Rick’s instructions in her head, Paige turned slowly. Her eyes swept the area around her. She held the assault rifle in her hands at the ready then dropped her night-vision goggles into place. Paige took another careful look around, then turned back to the house.
Gwen Campbell - [Love from the Ashes 02] Page 5