by Holly Rayner
“If it does, we have a good team, and we can handle any casualties.” He sounded like he had more faith in us than I did, and I felt my cheeks prickle with embarrassment.
We went across the street to drink some tea and then wandered down the road, enjoying the rising breeze off the ocean. My skin felt like it could breathe again.
After looking around to make sure nobody was walking too near, I said, “I overreacted, it’s true.”
“Yes, well, I thought I had offended you by implying something. It wasn’t my intention.” He glanced at me as we walked, but I just smiled.
“Well, I mean, like I said, I care about your opinion, so yeah, it bothered me when I thought you believed I might be…” What word could I use? I didn’t want to say “easy,” or anything like that. I didn’t think women who had casual sex were bad or immoral. I just wasn’t one of them, and the assumption that I was made me uncomfortable.
Too many bad memories, I guessed. College boys being stupid and humiliating me. But that was years ago. I should have been over it…but part of it seemed to be just my nature.
“Oh,” he said, getting the message as I struggled to finish my sentence. “I believe I understand. You are not casual about such things, correct?”
“Correct,” I sighed. “I can’t get into it unless there’s something real between me and whoever I’m with.” Though I was so attracted to him that it kept distracting me…it was still the case. I didn’t know him well, and superficial desire was not enough to draw me to bed with someone.
“Ah, I see.” For some reason, that just made him smile more broadly. “A romantic.”
My cheeks warmed. “That’s right, I guess. I want us to be on good terms, but I’m not looking for a fling. If you are, if that’s…what you’re into…” I caught myself twisting my fingers together and forced myself to stop. “I’m not judging, but I know myself, and you should look elsewhere.”
My heart sank as I got the words out. Whatever silly, juvenile crush I had, it left me wishing he was someone willing to be a gentleman and wait. But I barely knew the man. We were in a high-stress work situation and needed to be able to work together…and what would happen when we finished up here and parted company?
Besides, back when I had lost Karla, I had promised myself: don’t let anybody else get close. I couldn’t stand the thought of feeling that loss again. The emptiness inside that felt like something essential had been gouged out of me. And how much worse would it be to fall in love with someone and then lose him too?
A likely scenario in the middle of a war zone, especially when the man in question was a world-hopping medical-hero type who tended to move on to a new area at least a few times a year. I just can’t risk it.
I wish I could.
We walked for a while, taking the road that ran behind the aid complex out to a broad avenue with a view of the docks. Out there, everything seemed ordinary. Fishing boats dotted the water, barges drifted past, and more stalls had opened out of some of the moored boats. It was so refreshingly beautiful after all that bloody disaster that I wished I had a camera handy.
“This country really is quite beautiful if you can set the war aside.” I sighed. Of course, we couldn’t; the skirmish that had woken me might have been over, but another would come along soon enough—common as rain in Miami.
“Can we at least set any bad feelings between us aside?” Vincenzo asked gently.
I nodded. “I would prefer to. Especially since we were both drunk when all this happened. Just…remember what I said about flings.”
“I understand.” Yet this time, unlike the night of the misunderstanding, I could read his expression. He was smiling, relaxed…seemed almost relieved, for some reason. Maybe because I had made it clear that I did not hate him.
My heart still sank. But like my libido, it was a ridiculous, rebellious thing, completely ignoring what was best for us. So I would ignore it.
I had to.
“Well, then, I suppose I must leave you alone, except when I need an extremely skilled nurse. Only problem is, around here, that might be daily.” He strolled along with me, sometimes lifting his head to watch the sea birds drifting over the fishermen’s boats.
“I have no problem working with you,” I reassured him quietly.
He nodded, and then shifted his path to move away from me across the street. “Well, I should really get back. Please do check in to see if there are any more duties for you once you have gotten some air.”
I nodded, feeling a little numb inside, and he smiled and strode away, across the street, while I felt like he took a tiny piece of me with him.
I’m doing the right thing, I tried to reassure myself. I am. I absolutely am.
Maybe if I repeated it enough, it would actually sink in.
I should go back too, I realized. Check on Yvonne. She probably hasn’t had a break yet, I should bring her something else to eat and drink.
Heart still heavy, I stepped off the curb—and a ground-shaking explosion knocked me flat. The road slammed into my side, and everything faded to black.
Chapter 12
Vincenzo
My heart was heavy as I made myself walk away from Rose. It had been a relief to hear her say that she did not despise me. She was not angry, and she still wanted to work with me. The disappointment reminded me too much of that night when my tipsy, overeager invitation to stay the night had been taken in a way I had not expected.
Fortunately, we were both adults and could deal with an awkward misunderstanding without losing respect for each other. And yet…I could not ignore the truth. She hadn’t left my mind for very long for weeks, and whenever she was away, I found myself looking for her in any crowd.
There had been many women in my life, of course, and now and again I had even fallen for one of them. Nothing had ever worked out for long, especially back when my family had been able to meddle. But I still loved the chase…and of course, the conquest.
My experience had given me some insight into women and their desires. Some women, told their whole lives that their sexuality was something shameful, took a long time to warm to the idea. Others, perhaps too used to the modern Western dating scene, were more than amenable to a roll in the sheets on a first date. But Rose was not like that. She was…
Cautious. Shy. Romantic. Perhaps a bit bitter and guarded. But more than anything…she is memorable.
I had barely finished crossing the street when a heavy boom sounded behind me.
Rose!
Horrified, I spun around—and saw rubble scattered across the street from a smoking doorway. The building’s roof was buckled inward, its contents—including the brassware the poor shopkeeper had been selling—spewed out among the dust and cracked asphalt.
Another rocket, fired this way by accident again from the front? I hadn’t heard the fighting start up again. As I hurried back across the street, deeply worried about what I would find when the dust settled, I came across civilians who had been knocked down by the blast. Most were already sitting up, a few groaning, and many of them holding their ears. Nobody was lying still, not even in unconsciousness. In a stroke of good fortune, it hadn’t been much of a bomb compared to the last one—but I still checked in with each fallen civilian I passed as I looked for Rose.
My stomach was churning so hard that it was all I could do not to start shouting her name like a frightened and infatuated fool. But a moment after I hurried across the street, I saw her—crumpled just off the curb, dust and plaster in her hair again.
I ran to her as quickly as I could.
When I got closer, I saw she was unconscious, probably from the concussion wave; she had been closer than the others. I knelt beside her and took her in my arms, propping her head as I looked her over carefully. She was breathing, her skin only a little pale, and aside from a few drops of blood on her scrubs, I saw no sign of injury.
Good, good. She’s going to be all right. I just need to get her back and tended to.
&
nbsp; I stroked her hair back from her face and she sighed, eyelids fluttering. Then her eyes opened, and I was relieved as they focused on me.
“What…happened?” she mumbled, looking around with wide, confused eyes. She blinked dust out of them and tried again—and tensed. “Oh, God. Another rocket?”
“Yes, another rocket, and you were lucky that it had a lighter payload. It hit a building twenty feet away from you. Can you walk?”
She nodded and I tried to help her up—only for her to yell and grab her thigh.
I froze and turned to her, trying to look past her fingers. “What is it?”
“My leg…it burns,” she replied in a mystified tone, as if completely unused to being wounded herself. “I took one step and it felt like someone drove a hot knife into it.”
I carefully lowered her back down to the street and had her stretch out her legs. “All right, move your hand so that I can take a look,” I said, taking off my lab coat and bundling it up to put under her head.
She did so reluctantly, wincing—and then hissed with pain as I checked the tiny slit in her scrubs pants to reveal a gleam of metal.
“It’s a small bit of shrapnel,” I said. “The piece has gone into the muscle, which is why moving causes so much pain. We’ll have to get it out.”
Rose nodded, going a shade paler. “Do what you have to do.”
Carefully taking out my pocketknife, I widened the slit in her pants enough for me to work. We both winced as her wound became clear. It was a building screw—probably from the shop door—sunk almost up to its top in the muscle of her thigh. By the lack of bleeding, it had missed any blood vessels, but it had to really hurt regardless.
“Are you up on your tetanus shot?” I asked worriedly.
“Absolutely. But I guess I’ll need antibiotics after this.” She made a face. “I feel terrible taking them away from patients.”
“Not to worry, I have something we can use without diving into stores.” I closed the blade of my pocketknife and opened the pliers. Then I quickly took off my shirt.
Her eyes got enormous and she just as quickly looked away, cheeks going a very telling pink.
Interesting, I thought before tearing off both sleeves and ripping them into strips for bandages. Apparently, lack of attraction wasn’t one of the problems here. I filed that for later as I focused on the task ahead.
“I apologize in advance for this,” I said as I took a firm grip on my pliers.
She nodded, lips pressed together tightly, and looked away. I quickly grabbed the head of the screw with my pliers and pulled it from her flesh.
Rose let out a pained cry—but kept herself from grabbing the wound with her dirty hand. Quickly, I bound up the wound with my makeshift bandages; fortunately it didn’t bleed much even after the screw was free.
“There!” I said, relieved. “Done. Now let’s get you back and get this disinfected. Can you walk if you lean on me?”
“I…think so. My other leg’s fine.” She got up with my help, slinging an arm around my bare shoulders and carefully keeping her wounded leg off the ground. “Unh, all right. Let’s go.”
She hopped along with my support, occasionally hissing with pain but otherwise uncomplaining. “Where are you taking me if not the clinic?” she asked as we went toward the complex.
I sighed. “The only other treatment space I have available—and forgive me, for you probably won’t like it.”
She winced as we walked. “Your trailer, then. It’s fine. I just don’t want to bleed all over it.”
The walk back to our compound was a bit slow and painful—not a surprise under the circumstances, but it made me uneasy. I suddenly felt exposed on the formerly peaceful street. Instead of taking the main entrance, I came in through the courtyard gate, past the other portables to my trailer. It was a little awkward unlocking it while helping prop up Rose, but I managed.
“Here we are,” I said, trying to ignore how good her warm hand felt on my bare shoulder. “Now let’s get you inside and finish patching you up.”
The watched feeling vanished as soon as I got Rose inside, but I still remembered it and wondered why yet another rocket had headed our way again so quickly. Could it be a mere coincidence? Two incidents of very bad aim in as many weeks? Or was something else going on?
My instincts pricked at me as I helped Rose along. The situation here is getting more and more dangerous, I thought darkly. But what is the story behind it?
Chapter 13
Rose
Waking up in Vincenzo’s arms had been a shock. Realizing that I was in his arms in the middle of a rubble-strewn street had been a bigger one. My ears had been ringing so hard that at first, I hadn’t really heard what he had said. It had taken me several seconds just to get my bearings and figure out what on earth had happened. Only the pain in my thigh had fully brought me back to myself.
Good thing I got a tetanus booster. He’s right, that thing was full of rust and bits of wood.
My first shrapnel wound, now being fussed over by a worried-looking Vincenzo who had forgotten to put on a fresh shirt in his haste to get me settled on his bed and my wound tended. I felt a wave of embarrassment as he unbandaged it and I saw that such a painful wound wasn’t even the circumference of a dime. All that over something so small. It didn’t even look like it would need stitches.
But it’s right in my thigh muscle, like Yvonne’s cut. Which means I’ll be hobbling around semi-useless for days. Oh joy.
“It doesn’t look like it hit anything vital, but it’s a deep wound, and I’m certain that you may have some debris in it. Hold on.” He went over to one of the cabinets and got the same black medic bag I had seen before. When he returned, the first things he pulled out were a little unusual: a penlight and a jeweler’s loupe.
I felt my stomach flutter when he bent over my thigh to examine the inside of the small, barely weeping wound. Despite my pain and the shock of being caught in an explosion, what had gotten to me the most when I had awakened had been the feel of Vincenzo’s warm skin under my arm, the flex of muscles as he helped me along, the scent of his spicy cologne. It had been a nice distraction from the pain, but it played havoc with my decision to fight my crush instead of caving in to it.
Putting on a paper mask, he bent over me and peered into the wound as I bit my lip and stared up at the net that hung over his bed.
“All of this for a single screw,” I said—and then my eyes widened and I pressed my lips together and stared up even harder.
He snorted softly at the Freudian pun—but then saved it by referring back to the wound. “I’ve seen people killed by wood splinters. When something small goes fast enough, it can cause a lot of damage to a person, same as a bullet. Fortunately, in your case…”
I felt his warmth as he peered into the wound and bit my lip hard.
“…rinsing and disinfecting should be enough, though we should keep an eye on it over the next few days.”
I held the towel while he washed the wound with saline, wincing as I saw a few flakes of rust or some other variety of brown bits come out of it. Ugh, that’s nasty, But definitely better out than in.
As he bandaged the wound, I stared up at the net, following the curves of its knots with my eyes. My toes were curling inside my shoes; I did my best to ignore that too. I hadn’t been touched by a man I was attracted to in such a long time that I didn’t know what to do with myself. But I couldn’t afford to let on how I felt. Not under any circumstances.
I decided on small talk to distract myself.
“So…you used to be part of your uncle’s fishing business before med school?” It had to be pretty successful for him to be able to afford all this world travel. Or maybe he had simply worked in a regular hospital somewhere and saved up his pay. I wasn’t sure anymore. One moment he seemed privileged and arrogant, and the next, he was humble and hard-working.
He smiled. “Oh, no. In fact, my time with my uncle was more like a vacation. You see…my mother’s
family is successful but humble. My father’s family…is extremely wealthy. Financially, at least. They are severely lacking in spiritual or emotional wealth.” His voice took on a harder, darker tone at the end of the sentence, and suddenly, I found myself fascinated with him all over again.
“I had wondered,” I admitted. “Some of the things you say sound like they come out of a rich man’s mouth, but here you are working along with the rest of us helping those who are anything but wealthy. That’s not something that wealthy men usually bother with.” And what was this discomfort he had with his family? He had mentioned discomfort with his home, and how vicious some of the people there were. But I hadn’t expected the “vipers” he had described to be members of his own family.
“I suppose I should be honest about it,” he sighed as he finished binding my wound with proper bandages, then got up and started putting away his gear, throwing away the ruined shirt and going for another one in his suitcase. I wasn’t surprised to see that he had several of equal quality stashed away inside of it. “The truth is, your assumptions are correct. As a child, I had no experience of going without. As an adult, I’ve made my own choices on how to live.”
I watched him put the shirt on, trying to avoid letting my eyes wander too much. It didn’t work too well; I finally gave up and stared at the floor until he sat down again.
“You don’t sound like you were very happy there, though,” I said.
“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “My mother and my uncle were my only real family. Both of them were kind, modest people who encouraged me to pursue medicine. However…they did not have much power, and both of them are now gone, so…I do not actually have much reason to return.” He looked thoughtful at the end, as if he still had some regrets about never going back.
“Your dad’s family is that bad?” I bit my lip. I knew for certain that there was one thing truly worse than having no family at all: having a family that abused you.