Mission accomplished.
This time, the deep breath he sucked in was a satisfied one. He’d done what he’d set out to do. Showing Becca how capable he was, even in a dangerous situation, felt damn good.
He’d said it wouldn’t take long and that he would be back. She would know she could trust him to honour his word.
He would do what he’d promised her he would.
He would look after her.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE sea was the same colour as the sky.
The colour of blood.
The dark silhouette of the man was only recognisable because it moved and the surrounding rocks didn’t. When he stood still, having risen and raised his hand in a triumphant fist, he looked like another shape carved in stone.
A human rock.
Becca didn’t bother reminding herself that she never cried. That her tears had all been spent on Matt. A choked sob escaped as she realised that, in no small part, this was still about Matt.
Her brother had been her human rock in a fluid, lonely world and Jet had been there beside him for as far back as she could remember clearly. Too real and too powerful to be considered a shadow but he’d still been in the background. Like a guardian angel. A flesh-and-blood angel with a loyalty that was so absolute it was impossible to think of Matt without thinking of Jet, and vice versa.
So it was like part of her brother was here with her now. Promising to look after her. Expecting her to trust him, but how could she when she knew that that trust could be broken? Unintentionally, maybe, but the effect would be the same and she’d be alone again. In the end, Becca knew she had only herself to rely on with that kind of certainty.
But the pull towards leaning on Jet and giving him that trust was so strong it was a physical pain and that was why Becca was crying now. Maybe, if she hadn’t just watched in horror as the wreckage of her aircraft had slipped into that blood-red sea when she had been sure Jet was still inside it, she might have been powerless to resist that pull on her heart. But for just a few of its beats there she’d known how unwise it would be to give Jet any part of her heart, and trusting him would do precisely that.
For those few, ghastly seconds she’d known she was on her own again and she’d known that she could survive. She’d done it before and she knew how. She knew that a big part of being able to survive was about dodging emotional as well as physical damage. For however long it would take to get off this island, the man coming towards her now, weighed down by the bulky gear he was carrying, was just as dangerous as the exploding volcano high above them.
‘Sorry, this is going to sting like mad.’
‘You could just stitch it up. You don’t need to waste the local.’
Jet snorted. ‘I don’t happen to have a bullet handy for you to bite on. Hold still. Damn, this light is still awful.’
‘I’m sure you can do this with your eyes shut. Your reputation precedes you with the speed of light. Hey, well done! You’re wearing gloves this time.’
Was she mocking him? Jet sent her a suspicious glower but Becca’s head was bent. Good grief, she actually wanted to watch him cobbling up this nasty gash on her arm? And she was prepared to have it done without the benefit of local anaesthetic?
She had a mask on now. They both did. It was the first thing Jet had sorted, having arrived back on the beach and emptied the extra supplies from inside his jacket, just in case they suddenly got enveloped by an ash cloud. He was perfectly used to being around people wearing surgical masks. He was even used to being in environments where the light was weird due to explosions and smoke and so forth, but Becca had never been in a war zone, as far as he knew. This had to be an extraordinary experience for her, sitting hunched and injured on a beach in the middle of nowhere, bathed in the glow of molten lava and shivering with the cold and probably fear and yet, here she was, managing to keep her arm steady on his knee ready for him to do some minor surgery.
He grunted softly. A sound of respect. ‘Pretty tough, aren’t you?’
Becca shrugged. ‘When I need to be.’
It had to hurt, sliding the needle in deeply enough to numb the edges of this wound. He saw the way she flinched and he could feel it himself. It wasn’t that he was ever without sympathy for any patient he was inflicting a painful procedure on but this felt different. Unpleasant enough to make this an ordeal for both of them so it was best he got it done as efficiently as possible.
And he was wearing the damn gloves for her protection, not his.
Waiting only a minute or two for the local to take effect, Jet busied himself sorting the dressing and bandages he’d need. He located his suture materials and some small pouches of saline. Ripping the corner of the first pouch, he tipped the sterile liquid onto the wound. Becca sucked in her breath and Jet winced inwardly.
‘Not quite numb, huh?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said through obviously gritted teeth. ‘Just get on with it. We need to get out of here.’ She was silent for a moment and when she spoke again, her tone was far less sure. ‘Do you think we’ll be able to get to the conservation base?’
‘May as well give it a go,’ Jet said cheerfully. ‘Not too much else to do, is there? How much do you know about this volcano?’ He was onto the second pouch of saline now, trickling it into the centre of the wound and tipping her arm carefully so that it drained towards the edges.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m wondering how many craters there are, for instance. And whether any of them had lakes.’ Having made the wound as clean as possible, Jet swabbed it dry with clean gauze and then ripped open the packet containing the curved suture needle and attached thread. He had to swab fresh bleeding away then and decided it needed a couple of deep stitches before he closed the surface.
Becca looked away as the needle advanced. ‘Does it make a difference? Having lakes?’
‘Could do. Lakes mean you can get lahars. Rivers of mud and stuff that can do a lot of damage. They can move a lot faster than anyone can run and they set like concrete. They’ve been known to wipe out entire villages.’
‘So we might get to the base camp and find it’s too late,’ Becca said quietly.
Jet made no response. What was the point? They might not even get there at all but they had to try.
‘Lava’s not so bad,’ he said a short time later, now working swiftly to insert, knot and clip the neat sutures closing the wound. ‘Generally moves slowly enough so you can keep out of the way. The problem will be if it’s cut access off completely.’
‘What about the gases volcanoes give off? Aren’t they poisonous?’
‘Some of them,’ Jet admitted. ‘But there’s no point worrying about it given that we’re a bit limited in what we can do. Staying upright is a good idea because a lot of those gases are heavier than air and will accumulate close to ground level. Respirators would be ideal but I guess we’re lucky we’ve got these good quality antiviral-type masks. If we moisten them, they’ll be more effective against gases as well as ash.’
He clipped the final suture and put a sticky, clear dressing over the wound.
‘I’ll bandage it for now. If it gets any more painful we’ll splint it properly. Try not to put too much weight on it.’
‘Thanks, Doc. I’ll keep that in mind.’
Definitely mocking him now and he probably deserved it. Heaven only knew how rough the journey they were about to undertake might be. Becca might well need to climb up steep cliffs or get down rough gullies. Not using an arm was hardly going to be on a priority list if you were trying to save yourself from further injury.
‘I should have kept our helmets on,’ he muttered. ‘Stupid.’
‘I’ve got sunglasses.’ Becca patted a top pocket of her flight suit. ‘Have you?’
‘Yeah…. somewhere, I think.’
‘Should help keep ash out of our eyes at least. Mine are starting to sting a bit.’
‘Yeah … mine, too.’ Jet tore the end of the bandage with h
is teeth and made strips to tie it in place around Becca’s arm. ‘There you go. That should hold together a bit better than crocodile clips.’ He turned to begin putting unused supplies back into the pack.
‘Leave some saline,’ Becca ordered. ‘And a sticky dressing. And have you got some Steri-strips?’
‘What for?’ He swung his head back towards her sharply. Was she hurt somewhere else, as well?
‘Because you’ve got a dirty big gash on your forehead, that’s why.’
‘It can wait.’
‘Have you not even noticed how often you’re wiping blood off before it can get in your eyes? Quite apart from the risk of infection if it’s not covered up, it might be helpful not to get your vision obstructed at some critical point.’
Jet grimaced but had to concede the point. He dampened another gauze dressing and swabbed at his forehead. The fluid stung enough to let him know the gash was not small.
‘Give that to me,’ Becca ordered. ‘You’re probably making it worse, scrubbing at it like that.’
With a frustrated growl, Jet sat down and handed the swab over. Becca knelt beside him and peered at his forehead. She was concentrating on the task at hand but she was so close to him that Jet had to drag his gaze away from her face. Not before he noticed how amazingly thick and dark her eyelashes were even without the benefit of mascara, however. Or that her nose was small enough to barely dent the mask. And he hadn’t needed X-ray vision to imagine what her lips were like beneath the stiff fabric. Did she still trap the tip of her tongue between them when she was totally focussed, the way she always had as a child?
He could actually sense her body heat in this proximity. Along with the light but confident touch of her fingers, it was disturbing.
‘Get on with it,’ he muttered. ‘We need to get going. Get to higher ground, at least, so we won’t be sitting ducks for a lahar.’
‘Fine.’ Becca used a fresh dressing to dry the wound. ‘This could do with stitching, I expect, but Steri-strips will have to do until you get to an expert. You up to date with a tetanus shot?’
‘Yep. Are you?’
‘I think so.’ Becca was trying to open the vacuum-sealed package containing the small, super-sticky strips. The corner of the plastic side was eluding her because her hands were shaking.
With the cold? Or was she finding this as disturbing as he was?
‘Here. Let me.’ Closing his hands over hers to take the packet without dropping it, Jet was startled by a blast of heat. How could Becca be shivering with cold when her skin could scorch his with such a brief touch? He had to suck in a deep breath.
He found himself sucking in a flashback at the same time.
That moment behind the fridge door at that party. The kiss.
It had just been a combination of teenage excitement and alcohol. Hadn’t it?
She must have known as well as he had how Matt would have reacted. How impossible it would have been. And she’d been barely old enough for anything other than him being a ‘big brother’ figure to be remotely ac ceptable.
Hadn’t stopped him thinking about it, though, had it?
Considering the amazing possibility that might be there if Matt ever came around to the idea one day. Thinking about how. right it would seem.
But Matt had never guessed his errant thoughts in those last few weeks he’d had to live and if it had been an embryonic dream, it had been buried along with his best mate. He hadn’t even thought about it since.
Until now, that was. Jet cleared his throat, hoping to clear the memory, as well.
‘You’re not wearing gloves,’ he managed to say casually as he handed her back the opened packet. ‘Tch, tch.’
‘Hmm.’ Becca pressed an end of a strip to his forehead and then he could feel her squeezing the edges of the wound together to bring the other side close enough to capture. ‘And I’ve probably got more to worry about in that direction than you have.’
Was he imagining an odd note in her voice? Disapproval?
Unless …
Unless there had been more to that kiss than too much champagne and being unexpectedly in such close proximity.
Maybe the attraction had been there on both sides.
But, even if it had been, it was ancient history. So long ago it was ridiculous to think it had any relevance now.
She hated him. She had told him that with a vehemence that had been absolute and he had known it would be there for ever. They might have been forced into being this close now but this was about survival. She needed him whether she liked it or not. And he needed her, too. This could potentially be the biggest challenge he’d ever faced and who knew? If it came down to the wire, the extra incentive of his determination to get Matt’s little sister to safety might be enough to tip the balance from giving up to being successful.
‘I think not,’ he said aloud, in as cool a tone as he could manage. ‘Thanks to a career in front-line emergency medicine, I get regular checks for any blood-borne nasties, as you call them. I’m as clean as a whistle.’
‘Good for you.’ The pressure of her fingers was even firmer this time. Enough to hurt. Not that he was going to let her know that. ‘And now you’ll have a sexy little scar on your head like a pirate. I’m sure it’ll add considerably to your pulling power with women.’
The sound of her ripping the backing off a sticky dressing was rather similar to the edge that had definitely been in her tone that time.
Jet couldn’t help teasing her. ‘Cool,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll be sure to remember to send you a thank-you card.’
She snorted. ‘You’ll need to get to a post office first.’ She stuffed supplies back into a plastic compartment of the pack and zipped it shut. Then she fished her sunglasses from her pocket and put them on, foiling the attempt to read her expression that Jet had been unaware of making. She stood up, her very effectively disguised face pointed down at him. ‘Well? What are you still sitting around for? Which way shall we go?’
Jet got to his feet. He opened a side pocket of the pack to extract a heavy-duty ‘hazardous waste’ plastic bag, which he handed to Becca.
‘Make yourself useful,’ he ordered. ‘Put the extra stuff in there. Those bandages and masks and things.’
He hefted the pack onto his back as she complied. Then he lifted the life pack with one hand and held out his other hand for the bag she had filled.
‘I’ll take this. I can carry the life pack, as well.’
‘What with? Your potentially fractured arm? I don’t think so.’ Jet was scanning the area, his gaze narrowed and focussed.
The red glow had diminished enough to bleach a lot of the colour from the sea and sky and the daylight was strengthening by the minute, but he could see the glow well enough to pinpoint the location of the eruption. He turned in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, trying to feel whether there was any wind. Even a small breeze would help keep them safe from the effects of ash or gas if they could move into it. They needed high ground, too. Not just to keep out of the way of a mud flow. The island wasn’t that big. If they could get to more than one ridge, they would surely see the remains of the housing in the settlement area. Buildings that would be sheltering the injured people they had come here in order to help.
‘This way,’ he said decisively, moments later. ‘Follow me.’
The going was rough.
Steep and densely forested, trying to navigate across this craggy, subtropical island was a daunting mission. It might only be twenty or so square kilometres in area, Becca thought, but if you added the distances from rock-strewn gullies to surprisingly high ridges it was probably ten times as big.
Her legs were nowhere near as long as Jet’s and the steps he seemed to take with ease were a difficult scramble for her, especially with the lumpy bag of supplies she had under her uninjured arm. And trying to suck in enough oxygen through a now sweat-soaked surgical mask.
It seemed crazy to be still wearing the masks. Totally incongruous that the sun wa
s out, filtering down through the lush forest of palm trees they were currently climbing through. A breeze from the sea, now well behind them, was ruffling the palm fronds high above their heads but, unfortunately, it wasn’t getting down to ground level. Becca was getting hotter and hotter, toiling behind Jet up the side of what felt like a sizeable mountain.
Her head ached, her arm hurt and she was extremely thirsty. How long had they been walking? An hour? Two, maybe. Jet was showing no sign of slackening his pace and Becca certainly wasn’t going to be the first to suggest a break. She’d keep going, dammit. She’d show him that she could keep up. That she was as tough as she needed to be, like she’d claimed.
He wasn’t talking to her and, for that, Becca was grateful. Not just because talking would have made it even harder to keep her oxygen level up. Did Jet share the weird feeling that they weren’t alone on this journey?
That Matt’s ghost was walking between them?
Oh … help … Becca needed to change the direction of her thoughts. Desperately.
‘Hey … Jet?’
The response took several steps to come.
‘Yep?’ He didn’t turn his head and he sounded vaguely surprised, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Was this the soldier in Jet? Totally focussed on the mission and nothing else? If so, it was a new side to this man. He’d always been very aware of those around him. Too aware, in some ways, able to pick up on things that people might have otherwise left unsaid. Becca didn’t think he’d changed that much and that awareness was a more likely scenario. He was deliberately trying to blot out her presence because he would prefer her not to be here with him.
Well … tough.
‘Do you think we really need to keep these masks on?’
Another short silence fell as Jet appeared to consider her query.
‘The air looks fine.’ Becca almost stumbled as she took her eyes off the ground to look up at the bright green canopy of palm fronds. The bright flash of a bird she didn’t recognise flicked past and she could hear the calls of countless others around them. Patches of vivid blue could be seen and Becca couldn’t help giving an incredulous huff of sound. ‘It looks like such a gorgeous day.’
The Tortured Rebel Page 5