Erica came into the tent behind her, carrying bottled water. She paused and smiled at Becca.
‘I hope you got some real sleep.’
Becca nodded, feeling a bit ashamed of herself, but Erica’s nod was pleased. ‘You needed it. You missed the excitement, though.’ The nurse’s gaze shifted. ‘Your man’s a bit of a hero all right.’
Her man.
In her dreams.
He had been, though, hadn’t he? Just for a blink of time, up there on the side of a mountain.
There was no way she could prevent her own gaze shifting to Jet. Soaking in the picture he made. He was taking Adam’s blood pressure with a hand holding the disc of a stethoscope in place on Adam’s elbow and using his other hand to release the valve of the bulb. His face was intent as he watched the dial clipped to the cuff around his patient’s upper arm.
And, yes … he was scowling.
Absurdly, it brought the sting of tears to Becca’s eyes and curled the corners of her mouth into a smile at the same time.
She loved everything about him. Even the surliness.
She could make him smile. How many others could claim that distinction?
‘We had an operating theatre going,’ Erica was telling her. ‘Adam’s foot was such a mess, he was bleeding to death.’
‘Really?’ Becca was still watching the doctor with his patient. She saw Jet’s satisfied nod and he was saying something to Adam, who gave him a smile in return and a thumbs-up sign. The blood pressure was obviously at an acceptable level. How had Jet managed to get a patient in danger of bleeding to death into such a stable condition given the relatively primitive surroundings and limited medical supplies?
‘He had to amputate the foot,’ Erica said quietly.
‘Oh, no … That’s awful.’
But Erica shook her head. ‘He would have died otherwise and that would have been awful. Adam’s the nicest guy you could ever meet and we’re all over the moon that he’s still with us. I think he’s pretty happy about it, too, and he knows he owes his life to Jet.’
Jet’s status around here had clearly reached new heights.
‘How are the others?’
Erica’s smile was back. ‘Jack’s got a headache that he says is worse than any hangover he’s ever had, and that’s saying something for Jack. Jet reckons he’s got a severe concussion but there’s nothing too dangerous going on. He’ll need scans and stuff when he gets to hospital.’
Jet was beside Jack now, shining a small torch in his eyes and then holding a hand up in front of him.
‘How many fingers?’ Becca heard him ask.
‘One. Trick question, right?’
‘Keep your eyes on it for as long as you can.’ Jet moved his finger up and down and then from side to side, watching closely to see how Jack was tracking it visually.
Erica still hadn’t moved to take water to those who needed it. The two women stood side by side, watching Jet.
Everybody was, Becca realised, scanning the interior of this makeshift medical centre. There were several onlookers. Like Mandy and some others Becca had yet to meet. And why wouldn’t they all be watching? Jet was their hero. He was using his astonishing stamina and praiseworthy skills to care for them all. To save the lives of the people they cared about.
He was brilliant and she felt proud of him. She loved him, as much as it was possible to love anyone. So why did she have this gnawing sense of unease? A kind of tension pressing in on her and making her feel restless?
The answer came when her gaze returned to Jet to find he’d finished assessing Jack and was looking directly at her. How long had he been watching her soak in the results of all his hard work? The hero-worship he had earned from all these people?
He looked … uncomfortable. Embarrassed.
And then it hit her. That moment of eye contact had ignited a connection that went further back than what had happened on this island. It came with a wave of pain. He had saved the life of at least one complete stranger here.
Why hadn’t he been able to do that for his best friend?
There was nothing for Becca to do in here. Plenty of people were available for the routine nursing and companionship these patients needed, and Jet and Erica were there for anything clinical. Becca went back outside and somebody made her another cup of coffee and then presented her with a doorstop sandwich thickly spread with both honey and peanut butter.
It was hard to swallow, however.
A heavy knot seemed to have lodged in her stomach. A weight that told her she still hadn’t forgiven Jet.
Sure, she could understand that he’d been just as devastated by Matt’s death as she had been. She could feel bad that she’d made him feel worse with her accusations. Knowing that might have changed how she felt about Jet was enough to erase the hatred but, however much she wished it wasn’t, the core of that ill feeling was still there.
The idea that he could and should have done more. That by doing even the tiniest bit more, he could have prevented the tragedy.
Did she still believe that?
Yes. Somewhere, deep inside, that belief was still alive. A spotlight had revealed it lurking in a recess and that light had come from the evidence all around her here. In Jet’s abilities to beat the odds. To negotiate inhospitable landscape. To save someone’s life when they were bleeding to death.
Was part of why he’d been so affected by Matt’s death due to feeling guilty that he hadn’t done that little bit more? Maybe the answer to that had been telegraphed in the discomfort she’d witnessed when he’d seen her taking in what he’d managed to do on Tokolamu.
The knot inside her was a kind of grief.
She loved Jet but if she was incapable of forgiving him completely there could never be any kind of future with him even if he felt the same way. And that kiss had suggested he might.
Forgiveness implied trust.
Trust made you vulnerable.
Was she, in fact, prepared to make herself vulnerable? She had worked hard for a very long time to protect herself from the pain you could risk by being vulnerable. To prevent herself ever falling over that precipice.
Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. She had always wanted to be with Jet and have him touch her intimately. Now she knew the reality of it and perhaps a perfect memory was the best outcome for both of them. Why ruin it by digging up things that could only push them apart and make them regret what had happened here?
The navy vessel was sighted early that afternoon and even after it had anchored safely away from the rocks surrounding the island, there was still enough daylight to embark on the treacherous task of evacuating everybody safely.
The injured went first because it needed a huge team to carry stretchers over the rocks and down to the jetty. Despite the willing team of volunteers, it was a slow process. Getting from the jetty into the inflatable craft was tricky and then they needed to be winched up a daunting height to get on board the ship at the other end of the short journey.
Jet made the trip with every one of the injured. First Adam and then Jim and then Jack. He handed them over to the ship’s surgeon and made sure his patients were settled and stable before returning to the island. The others could be taken off in small groups but the sun was almost setting by the time the last group had a boat available.
Becca was in that last group. Jet and Steve, who was manning the outboard engine because he knew every rock to watch out for, were a tight team by now. Jet hung on to ropes on the jetty, trying to keep the boat reasonably stable in an increasing swell. With his free arm, he offered support to each person making the controlled jump from the edge of the wooden jetty into the boat.
He made sure he caught Becca’s uninjured arm and he gripped it firmly. No way was he going to let her slip and go into the sea between the dinghy and the jetty. A wave rolled past as she stepped out and the boat tilted sharply. Jet let go of the rope, caught Becca in his arms and rolled onto the bottom of the dinghy, ensuring that he landed
on his back to provide a cushion for her. A whoop of approval came from Steve and the others on board clapped and cheered.
‘Score!’ Someone shouted.
The relief of being rescued, combined with exhaustion and the aftermath of adrenaline release, was beginning to make them all feel somewhat euphoric. Even Becca was grinning as Jet helped her up and onto the shelf seat along the side of the boat where she could get a grip on a loop of rope. Another two people to get on board and then they were off, skimming over the top of the waves, leaving the island of Tokolamu and its angry heart behind.
For the next hour or so happy chaos ensued as the rescued were assigned cabins and given access to hot showers and fresh clothes. Jet took advantage of all the facilities himself but only after checking again on all the patients. Jim was creating the most concern.
‘BP’s dropped,’ the ship’s surgeon told Jet. ‘I’ve got some fresh, frozen plasma running but I’m not happy. We’ll arrange a helicopter transfer as soon as we’re within range but that’s not going to be until morning.’
‘Are you set up for surgery if it’s needed?’
‘Yes. Most we’ve ever done at sea is an emergency appendectomy, though.’
‘Splenectomy’s in the same ballpark.’
‘You’re experienced?’
‘I’ve done a few.’
‘Good.’ The older doctor nodded with approval. ‘Here, take this pager. I’ll beep you if anything changes. Or would you like me to look at that cut on your head now?’
‘It can wait. I’ll clean up first.’
So Jet had a shower and put on some grey track pants and the white T-shirt he’d been provided with. He picked up the pager and clipped it to the waistband of the pants. Seeing the last glow of the sunset on the horizon through the porthole of his cabin as he got dressed, he made his way up on deck and to the stern of the now slowly moving ship. He wanted a final glimpse of the island that he knew would loom large in his memory for as long as he lived.
When he got to the railing at the stern, just over the churning wake, he found he wasn’t alone.
Dressed identically, in the soft grey pants and a white T-shirt that was way too large for her, was Becca.
With the backdrop of an island that was already looking small and a dying sunset that stretched as far as the eye could see across a vast ocean, Becca looked tiny. The urge to gather her into his arms and protect her was strong enough to immobilise Jet for a heartbeat as he joined her at the rail.
Protect her from what?
They were safe now. Heading away from the danger of this unexpected adventure and back towards their normal lives. So why this overwhelming feeling that there was something she still needed protection from? What was it?
A job she had chosen and clearly loved that was actually a lot less dangerous than what he chose to do with his own life at regular intervals?
The past? Would trying to sort out that tangle of unhappy memories somehow protect Becca from renewed pain in the future?
And why did that matter so much? Did he see himself as part of that future?
Yes.
No.
Confusion held him in utter silence. They stood there, side by side, staring at the shape of the island that was now being swallowed by the night.
Jet didn’t do involvement with women. Not long term. He couldn’t invite Becca into his life and then walk away from her, though, could he?
If he took that step, it would be for life.
And it would irrevocably change his life.
Could he even give her what she’d want? Or need? What she deserved?
Highly unlikely, given that he’d never been able to give it to any other woman in his life. He had long since accepted that he was a lone wolf. He had his pack, with Max and Rick, but he needed too much freedom.
He’d end up hurting her.
She’d end up hating him. The way she had for the past decade. Nothing fundamental had really changed, had it? How could it when they hadn’t even talked about any of it?
With no conscious awareness, Jet had somehow moved closer to Becca. Their hands were touching where they rested, side by side, on the railing. He became aware of it because it was like an electric current. Stealing up his arm and into every cell of his body. When Jet looked up from his hand in a kind of wonder at the speed of that current, he found Becca looking up at him.
The night was closing around them. The tropical breeze caressing them was making Becca’s newly washed, short hair do its utmost to curl. Her eyes were shining with an emotion he couldn’t identify. Relief, perhaps, that they were leaving the trauma of the island experience behind?
Her lips were parted and he saw the tip of her tongue emerge to dampen them. Perhaps she was planning to be the first to say something but Jet didn’t give her the chance. Maybe he didn’t want to hear anything that might break the spell that had been suddenly cast.
So he bent his head swiftly and kissed her.
It was only intended to be a gentle gesture. An acknowledgment of something that was far more profound than mere sexual attraction. But how on earth could he have forgotten that explosion of heat that came from touching Becca like this?
It melted self-control, that heat. It spread like the volcanic eruption they had witnessed last night until it felt like his whole body was glowing with it. It radiated from his fingertips and yet he could feel even more heat coming from the skin they were touching. On Becca’s face. On her neck. Under that T-shirt where they encountered the smoothest, most delicious curve of her belly and the tiny ridges of her ribs and then the soft swell of a perfect breast.
He heard her gasp as he cupped that breast, letting his thumb caress her nipple. He heard the tiny groan of surrender as she pressed herself into his hand and reached for his skin.
He also heard the insistent beeping that was coming from the device clipped to his track pants. The pager summoning him because someone was in trouble. Probably Jim.
Letting go of Becca was the hardest thing Jet had had to do in his life.
And that, in itself, was as strident a warning as the sound coming from the pager.
His voice felt raw. ‘I have to go.’
Becca simply nodded. She stepped back and turned towards the railing again, gripping it with both hands. Jet heard the way she sucked in a new breath as he moved away and it sounded oddly like a sob.
And that was when he understood.
She did still need protection from something.
Him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE helicopter made a perfect landing on the designated expanse of deck at the stern of the ship.
‘Nice.’ Becca nodded.
With the loud whine of rotors about to slow to an idle, her admiring comment couldn’t possibly have been overheard by the group of people standing around the stretcher but one of them looked up and mirrored her nod.
Maybe Jet was the only one of them who could appreciate the skill needed to bring a chopper down so neatly on a moving target.
It was what Becca had come on deck to watch so there was no reason to stay any longer.
Every reason not to, in fact.
Did she really want to watch the stretcher being loaded and the aircraft taking off again?
Jet was here with his patient. The man he’d been with for most of the night, according to the ship’s grapevine. Emergency surgery had been needed and then careful monitoring afterwards. Becca, like most of the others rescued from the island, had stayed up until they’d heard the news that the surgery had been successfully completed. With that crisis dealt with she had suddenly had as much sparkle as a deflated balloon and had gone off to the cabin she was sharing with Mandy to curl up in her bunk and escape into blessed unconsciousness.
Of course, it had been successful. Another life had been saved. She had expected nothing less. Just like she expected that Jet would climb into that military helicopter to accompany his patient to the nearest large land-based hospital.
Yes. He was about to exit her life with just as much drama as he’d stepped back into it. But did she really want to watch?
She might never see him again.
Becca swallowed hard. She tried to tell herself that it was a good thing. In the past two days, ever since the moment she’d set eyes on Jet again, her life had been tipped upside down and shaken violently. The physical trauma and danger were things she could easily deal with but the emotional roller-coaster was something else entirely. Nobody could survive this kind of turmoil unscathed and the problem was generated by Jet’s presence. When he vanished, life as she knew it would at least have a chance of resuming.
It had to. Despite hours of sleep, gently rocking in that narrow bunk, Becca simply didn’t have any reserve of energy or strength left. Not even enough to make her legs work and take her away from watching Jet leave so she stayed where she was and watched the stretcher being loaded and secured in the belly of the helicopter. Jet was talking to the army medics in their flight suits and helmets but then she saw him step back and the rear hatch of the chopper was closed and locked.
The rotors picked up speed and Jet was in a half-crouch as he got well out of the way. Becca saw the thumbs-up signal of the pilot and watched the skids lift smoothly from the deck. The chopper hovered for a moment, moved sideways and then banked as it gained height rapidly and left the ship behind. In no time at all it was a dot, disappearing into the horizon.
Still she didn’t move. She watched the small crowd disperse. All the conservation workers who’d come to wish their colleague a speedy recovery and see him taken away filed through the narrow door to go back inside. The ship’s surgeon and the crew members who’d been involved in the transfer went off to their work.
Everybody had gone. Except Jet. He came towards her and Becca’s mouth felt dry. It was curiously hard to say something.
‘How come you didn’t go with them?’
‘He’s stable and he’s in good hands. They’ll be back later to transfer the others, anyway.’
‘So you’ll catch a ride then?’
The Tortured Rebel Page 10