Chapter 4
4
Chirping birds and the rush of water flowing not far from the village would’ve made this place a slice of paradise if it wasn’t for the intrusion of violence, greed, and intimidation that cast a shadow over these poor people. This area was controlled by the Ambong brothers, warlords who ruled the area with an iron fist. Doctors for the World wouldn’t be here without their consent.
Taer and Lando had “escorted” them to the village. Some of the people left before receiving care out of fear. The ones who stayed were anxious, constantly looking around like something bad was going to happen. Even the medical staff were on edge when they were here.
Helen sighed in relief as the last patient was treated. She and her coworkers closed up and walked out into the tropical heat, a long trek back to their vehicles in front of them.
Helen couldn’t move. There was D-Day in a conversation with Taer. She was transfixed after so many months of going without the sight or sound of him. She shivered, feeling the oppressive glare of Taer on her, his narrowed eyes assessing and searching.
Then she saw him out of the corner of her eye, not daring to look right at her brother, who was dressed as grungy as D-Day. Buck had the same looks on his face as his teammate: first fear, then a blank stare. She tried not to react, and it took up all her energy.
D-Day was aware of the moment she realized her brother was here and if he noticed, those eagle-eyed warlords wouldn’t miss it. She blinked and looked down to cover up any sign of recognition. When she raised her head, D-Day closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then he started toward her. That he wasn’t happy to see her was an understatement. The man was downright livid, and he didn’t have to say a word to express his seething anger. The tense set of his body, his clenched jaw, and his fuming silence said it all.
Despite the rapid beat of her heart, she remained right where she was, waiting to take her cue from him. His intimidating look and barely restrained temper were almost worse than him just shouting at her. She was quite aware that there would be a reckoning later on, and he’d vent all that resentment shimmering off him in waves.
She’d seen this man in many different moods, but this one was intense to the max, and he was disheveled, looking very sexy and rough around the edges. She knew he was lethal, but now he was driving it home. When he moved, anticipation tightened in her belly as he stalked toward her, slow and predatory, emanating a sexual kind of tension that seemed to increase with each passing second between them. When he reached her, he leaned forward, and she took a quick intake of air, breathing him in, a man who seemed like a stranger, dangerous enough that none of this seemed to affect him at all.
Gosh, he was so tall, with strong shoulders and slim hips, her gaze locking on the holstered gun strapped to this thigh. The expression on his lean, tanned face was stern, almost brooding. His golden hair tumbled over his forehead, looking damp and silky under the punishing sun. This close, she noticed the fading bruises around his eye and along his jaw.
“Push me away and slap me as hard as you can,” he murmured so no one could hear him, in the deepest voice on the planet. And in an Australian accent that sounded like he’d been born down under.
She tipped her head back and met his dark gaze and felt herself leaning toward him, as if he were drawing her by some personal magnetic force. His gaze slid down to her mouth and lingered there, shockingly frank in its appraisal.
Feeling as if her heart had stopped working, she stared at him, her mind screeching to a halt. “Wha-a-t?” she asked in exasperation. She didn’t want to hurt him—that was the last thing on her mind, even though she had to acknowledge that she had hurt him in so many ways. But now he was asking her to hurt him physically. Helen struggled to squash the reaction, a thick ache stuffing up her chest, giving herself a stern lecture on the way the world worked.
His gaze roamed over her face as if trying to scrape away the layers and see deeper. She felt suddenly hemmed in, as if darkness had descended around them, closing out the jungle, the danger. It made her nerves keen, sentient, her body shift into his as if that’s where she belonged. Frowning down at her, he didn’t back off, and she had the urge to touch his hard jaw.
Taer, Lando, her brother, and several men watched them intently. She was also aware that Greg, Monique, and the other doctors were watching the whole thing. She threw a quick look over her shoulder, aware of Gregg’s posture. She signaled him with her eyes. If he intervened, and D-Day had to engage with him, there was only one way that would go…badly.
He latched onto her arm and her head whipped around. He wasn’t at all gentle. His entire body vibrated with aggression barely held in check. “Fucking push me away and slap me hard, now ,” he demanded.
That finally got to her. She yanked free, shoving against his chest to get him to step back, and it was like trying to move a bulldozer. Lifting her chin and setting her resolve, she braced herself.
The slap connected solidly with his cheek and snapped his head to the side. The blow was so hard, the palm of her hand stung and burned. Her heart pounded, adrenaline racing through her system, and for an instant, she didn’t know where she was. She remained perfectly still, the disoriented feeling fading when she saw her brother’s body tense. All hell was going to break loose if someone didn’t dispel this tension.
Suddenly, D-Day tipped his head back and laughed, and Helen experienced a sudden buzzing sensation that made her catch her breath. It was the first time she’d heard him really laugh, but she realized almost immediately that this was a show—the humor never reached those blue eyes, yet even then, his laughter transformed his face, she thought dazedly. Beneath the sober demeanor, and the solemn weight of responsibility, there was another Andrew Nolan, one who was even more appealing, and the buzzing turned into a full-blown intoxication.
Buck visibly relaxed as D-Day turned toward the men and roared, then flexed those thick biceps. “That is a feisty bird. She needs a strong hand,” he said, turning back to her.
Most people would consider feisty a compliment as it was associated with gutsy, strong, out there, aggressive, but the way he used it was anything but. Feisty was actually first used in dogfighting to indicate a small, excitable dog. The word came from feist , meaning dog. He was calling her a dog…a bitch. Not a big bitch, a small, excitable bitch, but still a bitch.
Greg appeared at her shoulder, and he must have had quite a look on his face, one that challenged D-Day. His eyes flashed and his hand rested on the butt of his gun. She held Greg back. “Don’t be an idiot,” she hissed.
“Yeah,” D-Day said, a hard gaze focusing on Greg. “Idiots don’t last long in the jungle.” His eyes flicked back to her. “Why don’t you join our band? I could use a… nurse like you.” Again, his tone was derogatory, and every man there knew what use he was talking about…on her back with her legs spread. He was subtle but got his point across.
She gritted her teeth, settling into this dangerous game they were playing with a hard glare, one corner of her mouth curling into a subtle sneer. Very slowly, and very deliberately, she raised her middle finger. “I’m sure you have no shortage of… nurses ,” she said softly, mockingly, not giving up an inch of ground.
This time, his smile went all the way to those bottomless blue eyes, his expression intense. She felt as if those eyes were reaching right into her soul. “Let’s go,” she said, knowing that this was getting way too out of hand between them.
Before she could go far, Taer stepped into her path. “I will kill him for you when our business is complete. He is a pig.”
She gasped at the thought of D-Day’s death, that terrible fear rising up, tightening her skin, pushing her heartbeat up several notches. Letting the warlord think it was her delicate sensibilities, she looked away. “No. I’m sure he’ll find someone else to manhandle. But thank you.” She had no idea if that was the right response. She certainly didn’t want to anger him or sic him on D-Day. She resisted the urge to look back as D-Day shouted over the sneers and chuckles rumbling behind him. “G’day, love.”
“What is his name?” she asked.
Taer looked at her impassively. “Graham Butler. You don’t want to know him, lady.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “No, I don’t.” But her heart warred with those words. She had him for such a short period of time in a situation that wasn’t conducive to exchanging secrets and getting to know him better. It had been so physical. Maybe both of them realized that adding anything personal to the situation would make it even more unbearable to be apart.
The sound of blades beating the air made them look up. The big, sleek black chopper came into view, low and slow over the area. It was armed with some dangerous-looking guns. She looked over her shoulder as D-Day, her brother and another man headed for the vehicle. The black machine lowered to the ground on its skids, a big man standing in the doorway, armed and ready for anything. More Navy SEALs? Most likely his teammates.
There were going to be repercussions from her stumbling into a JSOC undercover operation, but she wasn’t much concerned with that. She could keep her mouth closed. What she couldn’t do was abandon her job. She’d taken a vow, and she intended to keep to it.
The trip back to their accommodations close to the hospital was uneventful.
“You all right?” Monique asked. “That whole experience was wicked bad.”
“I’m a little shaken up, but I’ll recover.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, who wouldn’t be?”
“Helen, you are a rock, the bravest person I know and that’s saying something with the business we’re in. You looked as in control and tough as nails against that…scary dude. I thought I was going to die when you flipped him the bird.”
D-Day scared her on many levels, but not for the reasons Monique thought.
“He deserved it,” she said.
“Did…I know this sounds off the wall…but did you know him?”
“What?” Helen asked, startled. “Why would you say that?”
“Something in the way you two interacted that felt…I don’t know…familiar.”
To protect D-Day’s, her brother’s and that other man’s cover, she had to lie to her friend. “No. I don’t know him.” In many ways that was true. D-Day hadn’t committed to her during their brief affair, and it wasn’t because he just wanted sex from her. She was sure about that. There was this inner push and pull with him, a tortured soul that had retreated from any kind of solace, as if…as if he wasn’t somehow worthy of any type of affection or compliment. It only made her ache to find out what lay in the core of him as a man, as a lover, and as a decent and humble human being. This was the foundation of why D-Day scared her so much. She didn’t want to deal with troublesome emotions, and he evoked a slew of them. They often got in the way when she was working, because even though the medical field was cut and dried, people just weren’t, but she loved the experiences she got as a result of being an international nurse not tied to one hospital and one boring schedule.
“Oh, okay…well, even though he’s a gunrunner and a killer, all armed and dangerous , he’s pretty nicely put together,” she said. “I can imagine what he looks like under all that grunge.”
As much as Helen adored Monique, her friend didn’t know the meaning of subtlety. She was bold and brazen, and usually said what was on her mind. “Seriously. I doubt that he takes anyone’s welfare—or pleasure for that matter—to heart. He’s a ruthless, dirty, scruffy thug.” Which wasn’t at all true. His blond hair was silky and gently mussed by the wind and his big, capable hands, his face chiseled, beautiful, that shadow of a beard across an elegant jaw, and then there were those incredibly blue eyes. Monique could guess what D-Day looked like under his clothes, but she would be off the mark. No man looked like him—six feet of power and grace, warm, smooth skin wrapped around converging layers of ironbound muscle, sinew, and bone. Andrew Nolan was armed and dangerous in more ways than met the eye.
“Yeah, but a gorgeous one.”
Helen couldn’t help it, knowing that everything Monique said about D-Day was true. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and no amount of grime or scruff changed that one bit. His longer hair and just-there beard were as sexy as hell. But she couldn’t openly agree with Monique.
They parted ways and Helen went to her small room, one of several that had been provided to the medical team that included a bed, dresser, and bathroom. It was bare bones, but it was all Helen needed. She’d made do with much, much less in the wilds of the countries she’d visited. Air conditioning, hot water, and privacy were huge luxuries. With that in mind, she stripped down and showered off all that sweat and grime. She dealt with her longer hair, letting it grow so that she could bind it off her face and neck when in the field.
In her robe, she was drying her hair when there was a knock on the door. She walked over and opened it. Greg was standing outside. His face lit up when he saw her, his eyes caressing her face. All of it just made her feel uncomfortable. But she had to work with him, and he had recommended her for this job…so, it might have been self-serving, but she was grateful to him. She didn’t want to burn any bridges and believed that they could remain friends.
“Hey,” he said in his deep voice, his greeting was, as always, spoken in a low, husky tone that made her all too aware that the flame he held for her wasn’t anywhere near going out. “We’re going out for dinner. Want to tag along?”
“I’m really tired—” She was also drained from seeing D-Day. He was right there, but so far away from her, he might as well have been on the moon. She couldn’t seem to get him out of her head, that look on his face. Shock, dismay, then confusion.
“After today, it’ll be good for you to be around decent people, Helen,” he said, dismissing her attempt to refuse. He was so hopeful, even now giving her signals to let her know he was more than willing to resume their relationship—despite the numerous times she’d gently turned him down. The man didn’t give up easily, and even though she’d tried to let him know by her words and actions that she no longer had any romantic feelings for him, he continued to try to persuade her in little, subtle ways. Keeping things cordial but warm and friendly between them was a tightrope that was becoming more difficult for her to walk.
She still hesitated, because when it was just the two of them, without anyone else around, he got much too intimate with her. “Other people are going? Monique?”
His mouth tightened a bit, and he nodded.
“All right. Give me ten minutes to get dressed.” He nodded, again, reluctantly moving back away from her door. She closed the door and sighed, not quite sure what to do about Greg. At forty-one, divorced, not only was Greg much older than her, but she just wasn’t attracted to him anymore, and he seemed clueless about it. After her interaction with D-Day, she couldn’t imagine going back to their tame affair.
This is why she terminated their relationship. Where D-Day pushed her beyond her comfort zone into new and scary thoughts and emotions, Greg just didn’t evoke the same kind of feelings. She was wondering how much of her life had been superficial, and it wasn’t until she’d met D-Day that she was beginning to understand what being real meant. Except for D-Day, she had never let a guy get away from her without giving up at least some of his secrets. More often than not, she got more than they ever meant to reveal.
But D-Day was incredibly self-contained. So self-contained, there wasn’t room for her, except in his bed and two people couldn’t make a life out of sex, not even the kind of sex they had. In all the time they’d spent together, there had been only one where he’d opened up. In the barn the last time she’d seen him. The experience had been shattering. He’d hurt so badly that night, and she’d hurt for him. But for all that they shared, all that she wanted to tell him, get him to reveal, he had retreated.
Today he had been cool, smart, collected, and quick on his feet. In his line of work, that was a requirement and damned impressive. He always seemed to find a way to catch her off guard. But all that had happened between them was borrowed time. He was crossing a line she didn’t know existed, and she had lost him even before she realized it, way before she was ready.
D-Day got off the helicopter, keeping low, his body as tense as steel. The rain spilled straight down, soft enough to soak everything as he walked across the tarmac to the TOC’s door. Buck and Zorro were close behind them. All the dialogue in the chopper had been nothing but swear words and an explanation for Zorro, the air turning blue.
“What the hell happened out there?” Bailee demanded the moment they entered the command center, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of Manila and an isolated place where they could launch and land their sleek little bird chopper. She stood so fast that her chair rolled back. Everyone in the room had heard the disaster happen over the comms. No one spoke, but ruination hung in the air. “I don’t know,” D-Day said, still reeling from his encounter, his jaw clenching like a vise. “She came out of nowhere.” Anger coiled in him. Helen, he thought. Here in this den of snakes. Every protective instinct in him rose up like a wave of energy, crackling across every nerve ending in his body. A half dozen feelings ricocheted inside him, but he couldn’t focus. A bad week just got worse.
“ She…she…who is this person?” Her shoulders lifted and her hands tightened into fists.How the hell do you meet someone you know in the freaking jungle?”
“She knows me, too,” Buck said with a wince. “She’s my sister, Helen Buckard.” He let that sink in. It didn’t get any better.
Bailee let out an incredulous laugh. “Your sister? Oh my God. How is that possible?”
“She’s an international nurse with Doctors for the World. I reckon she had an assignment in the Philippines.”
“You guess? Why don’t you know where she is?”
“Look, darlin’ my sister is a grown woman, and she has her own life,” Buck said, anger simmering in his voice. “This isn’t her fault.”
“Maybe not, but it’s our problem now.” She rubbed at her temple. “And how does she know D-Day?”
“He’s been a frequent visitor to my family’s ranch in Wyoming. He’s practically one of us. He met her there.” D-Day winced inside at Buck’s words. They were no longer true.
“What are the odds?” Zorro murmured, his gaze jerking to D-Day, and he didn’t like the speculation on his face. D-Day stared him down.
Joker swore. “What a cluster, but missions go wrong, that’s a given. It’s our response to this that will give us alternatives to scraping it.”
“Scrapping it is not wise,” Bear said. “These men aim to use these weapons on Americans and Filipinos. If that happens, this part of the world won’t be the same. China will accuse us, and it’ll be an even bigger clusterfuck.”
“Has this mission been compromised?” Bailee said through clenched teeth.
“No, she knows better than to say anything about what happened, and she played along with D-Day,” Buck said. “She’d never put us in danger. She knows what we do for a living, and she caught on very quickly. It’s a precarious situation, and believe me, I’m not thrilled my sister is in the middle of a band of fucking cutthroats and killers.” His expression darkened.
Bailee closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hand. “Joker and Bear are right. We can’t scrap this mission, so that means we need to contain it. I want her in here, now. A-SAP. We need to make sure she understands the consequences if she doesn’t keep this information to herself.” Bailee’s gaze swept over them all. “Our asses are hanging out there, and D-Day, Buck, and Zorro’s lives are in the balance.”
Dinner turned into drinks, and Helen and her colleagues discussed the health problems facing the Filipino people.
“We still have a substantial problem with dengue cases numbering over three hundred K, but the deaths are lower this year compared to last year,” Dr. Bacunawa said with a smile. Dengue was a viral infection transmitted to humans through the bite of an infected mosquito. It caused flu-like symptoms, including high fever, pain behind the eyes, nausea, vomiting and rash.
“Why do you think that’s the case?” Monique asked.
“Mostly the initiatives our government has put in place, namely destruction of mosquito breeding grounds, information dissemination on protection—covering more of their skin and using mosquito repellants, and early detection and management of cases,” Dr. Bacunawa responded. She looked just as fresh and pretty tonight as Helen felt in her sleevelessmaxi dress.
“The Department of Health is also providing diagnostic kits and insecticides in hotspot areas,” Dr. Aquino said.
The group continued to talk about the cases, but Monique turned to her and said, “You look nice tonight.”
Helen shrugged. “It’s just a dress.”
“That’s like saying Wonder Woman’s outfit is just a costume. I love the Boho vibes, the ruffles, and that open back is very sexy. You look great in yellow.” She sipped her drink. “It’s just nice to be able to wear pretty things and not sweat through the armholes.”
Helen chuckled, lifting her glass of wine. “I hear you, sister.” Then she closed her eyes, emotion overcoming her. Maybe it was the remnants of seeing D-Day in such a scary, danger-filled place, and all the feelings she had for him tightening inside her like a vise. She drained the last of her wine, and gathered her purse, needing some fresh air and solitude.
“You’re leaving?” Monique said somberly.
“Yes. We’ve got another big day tomorrow, another six a.m. call, and more trekking through the jungle. I think I’ll turn in.”
“Party pooper,” Monique grumbled. “I think I’ll have one more before I concede to our noble cause.”
Helen smiled and patted her friend’s shoulder. “You are too good for this world, Monique.”
Monique laughed and nodded. “I know, my friend.” She caught the waiter’s eye to order another glass of wine as Helen headed for the exit.
Before she could get away, Greg rose, blocking her path, “You’re not leaving so soon,” he said, his voice on the verge of a whine.
“Yes. Time for me to go.” He grabbed her arm, and she froze. This was getting so tedious, and with thoughts of D-Day filling her up, she snapped, “What we had is over, Greg,” she hissed in a low whisper. “Don’t touch me again and stop with the overtures. I’m serious. Don’t make me file a harassment complaint against you.”
That jolt of information caused Greg’s hand to abruptly release her. Something dark and angry flared in the depths of his eyes, then he blinked, and it was gone. “I’m sorry. Message received,” he said, his voice as tight as his jaw.
She exited the restaurant totally preoccupied with the incident, so she was completely caught off guard when two men flanked her—huge brutes, one with brown hair, and the other one dark with Native American features. They dragged her to a dark van, and every innate fear associated with vans rolled over her.
She went to protest, but one of them covered her mouth, slipping his arm around her waist, prepared to carry her if need be. The other one opened the door and tried to shove her inside, ripping the hem of her dress, the sound stark in the night. She started to pull back and fight, but before she made any attempt, Buck’s deep voice said, “Get in, hellion.”
She sucked in a startled gasp, and her body went soft in shock. The men pushed her inside, and she stumbled, but a hard body caught her, and she found herself seated between Buck and…D-Day. Her hip was pressed against the gun holstered at D-Day’s side. She gasped in surprise and caught the hard glint in Buck’s gaze. He was pissed.
The van jolted forward, and she was thrown almost across D-Day’s lap. He righted her, sliding one arm around her waist, and rested the palm of his hand right at the curve of her hip to keep her anchored, his touch undeniably possessive, and hot. Very hot. Neither he nor her brother moved an inch. Fucking SEALS.
Forcing herself to relax, she leaned into those broad shoulders and hard chest. She tried to remain unaffected and calm, but she failed miserably. One deep breath brought his warm, heady male scent curling through her senses like a hypnotic drug. She was so keenly aware of him, in every way. Everything about the man, about his touch, was so seductively mesmerizing. So arousing and exciting, made more so by the fact that everything he did was so natural and unrehearsed. And while he appeared to be completely relaxed and unaffected by her close-enough-to-kiss presence, she, on the other hand, couldn’t stop her long-deprived body from reacting to each and every sensation. Her pulse quickened, something deep in her stomach fluttered, and her bare breasts felt tight and sensitive against the soft cotton of her dress.
“Leave it to you, hellion, to make things complicated,” Buck said in that affectionately sarcastic way of his. Her cheeks burned and her ire climbed, dousing all those arousing feelings she was experiencing.
So, the shit was hitting the fan, and apparently, her hands were quite dirty.