Special Forces Rendezvous

  Now he shifted, easing farther back in the saddle so she wouldn’t feel the proof of his inappropriate arousal pressing into her ass.

  “So you went on vacation, met a cowboy and did a little bit of riding?” He placed extra emphasis on the word riding.

  He knew that if he could see Julia’s face right now, she’d be blushing. The suggestiveness of that flirty question was probably as tasteless as the erection currently gracing his crotch, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  “Pretty much.” She sounded slightly embarrassed. “It was during college. A few friends and I spent spring break in Texas, and yeah, I met a cowboy, he was cute, and I thought, why not?”

  Sebastian laughed. “You don’t strike me as the fling type.”

  “I’m not usually.” There was a beat. “But every now and then, I’m not averse to the idea of a no-strings affair.”

  Heat speared into him. Was that her way of saying she wouldn’t mind a no-strings affair with him?

  And wow, his thoughts were just getting more improper by the second, weren’t they? He had to remind himself that he and Julia weren’t taking this moonlit horseback ride because they were on a damn date—they’d just escaped a village where all the citizens happened to be in body bags. Christ. What was wrong with him?

  Clearing his throat, he steered the conversation to their current predicament. “There’s a farm about a mile and a half from here. I saw a couple of trucks in the driveway when I drove past earlier. We’ll ditch the horse, take a truck and head straight for the harbor.”

  Her back stiffened. “I’m not going anywhere but the clinic.”

  “Sorry, Doc, but there’s no way you’re going back to the clinic. It’s the first place those soldiers will look for you.”

  “I don’t care.” A stubborn note rang in her voice. “I have to warn everyone. Their lives are in danger now.”

  The clinic will be handled...

  Remembering what he’d overheard, Sebastian stifled a sigh. Chances were, the situation had already been “handled,” and as images of what most likely awaited them at the clinic flooded his mind, he struggled to come up with a way to talk her out of this. Short of knocking her unconscious and taking her to the harbor against her will, there wasn’t much he could do. He knew with absolute certainty that Julia Davenport would be going to that clinic, with or without him.

  “And I need to tell them about this possible outbreak of...Lord, of who knows what,” Julia was muttering. “Kevin didn’t give me any details over the— Oh, my God. Kevin. We didn’t even look for him! What if he was being held in another tent?”

  “He wasn’t.” Sebastian’s voice came out grim.

  “How do you know?”

  Because tact wasn’t his strongest suit, he took a beat to think about how to phrase it, how to tell Julia that her friend and colleague was—

  “He’s dead?” Julia’s horrified inquiry interrupted his mental preparation. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Sebastian let out a breath. “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked dully.

  “I overheard the man in charge saying that Dr. Carlisle had died from the virus.”

  “I see.”

  No emotion in her voice. No tears. No expletives. Nothing.

  If it weren’t for the trembling of her slender shoulders, Sebastian would’ve thought Julia Davenport was made of ice.

  After a moment of hesitation, he transferred both the reins into one hand and brought his free hand to Julia’s arm, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry about your friend, Doc.”

  She flinched from his touch, just for a second, before her back relaxed and her shoulders drooped. Leaning into his chest, she whispered, “So am I.”

  A brief silence fell until Sebastian cleared his throat again. “We’ll approach the clinic from the hills. That’ll give us a bird’s-eye view, and if we see anything amiss, we get the hell out of here. Deal?”

  He wasn’t surprised when she protested. “I’m going inside.”

  “Not unless I determine it’s safe.” His tone brooked no argument. “Don’t test me, Julia. If I say we go, then we go.”

  She twisted around, her hazel eyes flashing with resentment. “That alpha-male caveman crap doesn’t scare me, Sebastian. If that’s even your real name.”

  His lips twitched. “It is.”

  “Fine, great, I guess I’ll just go ahead and believe you, same way I believed that you were a journalist writing an article about my organization!” Anger dripped from her every word. “Those people at the clinic? They’re my family and I refuse to let any of them get hurt. Whatever went down in that village tonight, those soldiers want to cover it up. That’s why the general kept asking whether I told anyone at the clinic where I was going. Cover-ups require shutting people up, which means that my colleagues are in danger, damn it!”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, you know? And yet you’re perfectly fine with abandoning those hardworking doctors and nurses and volunteers as long as it means you get out of this situation unscathed?”

  He gritted his teeth. “First of all, keep your damn voice down. The way you’re shouting, you may as well announce your location to anyone who might be looking for you. And second, I won’t apologize for wanting to save my own skin above all others. I already risked my neck to save you. I can’t save the whole damn world, Doc.”

  Without letting her respond, he dug the heel of his boot into the mare’s flank and urged her into a gallop. The wind blew in their faces, lifting Julia’s braid and smacking the end of it into Sebastian’s cheek. He grabbed hold of the silky plait and tucked it underneath the collar of Julia’s shirt, then focused on leading the horse through the darkened foothills. There was a rise in elevation, the slope curving and climbing, and they followed the rocky trail to the outskirts of town.

  When the Doctors International building came into view, Sebastian’s spirits sank like a capsized raft.

  “Oh, my God,” Julia whispered.

  There was no way to sugarcoat what was happening down below. No way to console the suddenly shivering woman in front of him. No way to reassure her that everything would be okay.

  The clinic was engulfed in flames.

  Great plumes of smoke rose from the wooden roof and were carried away by the late-night breeze. The orange flames were merciless, relentless, licking at the building, dancing around the wooden beams on the covered porch. Out front, two military Jeeps were parked on the dirt.

  Soldiers in blue-and-gold San Marquez uniforms surrounded the burning building. Some simply stood by and watched the conflagration as if it were a fireworks display. The rest had weapons trained on the front door, and Sebastian suspected there were more soldiers positioned at the rear, manning all possible exits.

  Making sure no human being made it out of that clinic alive.

  Julia’s slim frame shook even harder. Her soft sobs sent an arrow of pain to his heart. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her tight. “I’m sorry, Doc.”

  A strangled sound left her mouth. Another shudder wracked her body.

  “Do you...do you think... Oh, God,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I hope they showed them mercy.”

  Sebastian’s heart splintered in two. He was hoping for the same damn thing, because the thought of those doctors and nurses alive in there...burning alive... Christ. The memory of the teenage girl he’d met this morning embedded itself in his head, and agony sliced into his chest like a broadsword. Simone. Feisty Simone.

  He found himself praying to a God he hadn’t prayed to in years. Praying for the unthinkable, praying that those sadistic soldiers had at least had the courtesy of putting bullets into those people’s heads before lighting that fateful match.

  He and Julia watched the horror in complete silence. They sat astride the horse, shrouded in the darkness, Sebastian wishing he could take away the hot waves of pain rolling off Julia’s body.

  “What are they doin
g?” she asked suddenly.

  Several soldiers were now taking spray cans to the vehicles littered in the courtyard. Sebastian’s gaze followed the movement of their arms for a moment. He had to squint to make sense of what he was seeing. Once it registered, he clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt.

  “They’re tagging the area,” he hissed out, his vision becoming a red haze of fury and incredulity. “That’s the ULF’s symbol. The snake coiled around a machete. Sons of bitches are laying the blame for the fire on the ULF’s door.”

  The sheer audacity of it triggered the impulse to raise his rifle and shoot every last one of those bastards. They’d just burned down an entire medical facility full of innocent people, and now they were planning on passing it off as a rebel offense. Christ, once the U.S. caught wind of this... No, once the entire freaking world heard about this, the rebels would be hunted down and slaughtered for their “crimes” against these foreign relief workers.

  But he couldn’t dwell on the grisly implications for long, not when he realized that Julia was now shaking like a leaf in a tropical storm. Her breathing came out in unsteady pants, her slender torso rocking so hard he feared she’d topple right off the horse.

  “Breathe, Doc,” he murmured, gently stroking the sides of her arms. “Breathe before you pass out.”

  He felt her deep inhale, heard her slow exhale. She repeated the breathing exercise, once, twice, three times, until finally her soft voice broke through the cool mountain air.

  “Get me out of here,” she choked out. “Please, Sebastian, just get me out of here.”

  * * *

  Lissa. Simone. Marcus.

  Dead.

  Kevin. Marie-Thérèse. Kendra. Nadir.

  Dead.

  The names ran on a continuous loop in Julia’s mind, flickering from one to the next like a slideshow of old family photos.

  Lissa. Simone. Marcus.

  Dead.

  Enough!

  The sharp internal voice penetrated her state of addled numbness. Julia suddenly became conscious of her surroundings. The water splashing against the hull of the fishing boat. The hiss of the wind as the vessel sliced through the waves. The dark sky overhead and the chill in the early morning air.

  She was sitting on the splintered deck, huddled next to Sebastian, who’d slung a strong arm around her and urged her to get some sleep.

  Sleep. Ha. Like she would ever fall asleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured the flames hungrily devouring the clinic. She pictured the bodies of her colleagues, her family. She pictured Marcus’s teenaged daughter.

  It’s just death, Dr. Davenport. It’s nothing new.

  She almost laughed out loud. Right, just death.

  Yet the reminder succeeded in providing some clarity to her muddled brain. Death wasn’t anything new to her. During her residency in Boston General’s emergency room, she’d dealt with death on almost a daily basis. Grown skilled at steeling herself against it.

  That was what she had to do now. This wasn’t the time to dwell on the loss. She needed to put the gruesome images out of her mind. She couldn’t grieve now. Not if she wanted to stay alive.

  Swallowing the pain, she stared at the light beginning to gather at the horizon line. Without a word, she watched the sun greet the dawn, wondering how such beauty could follow all the ugliness she’d witnessed tonight. The sunrise was gorgeous. Soft pinks and oranges and purples rippled in the sky, growing brighter, shinier, until an explosion of brilliant yellow lit up the horizon and the sun rose like a phoenix from the ashes.

  “Pretty,” Sebastian murmured.

  Tears stung her eyes. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

  His strong arm tightened around her, and she found herself resting her head on his shoulder. Exhaustion settled over her, but she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t close her eyes. Her gaze swept over the deck, landing on the pair of deckhands smoking cigarettes by the railing. The distinct flavor of sweet San Marquez tobacco floated in her and Sebastian’s direction, and for the first time in years, she was gripped by an overpowering nicotine craving.

  Stumbling to her feet, she caught the eye of one of the men. “¿Usted tiene un cigarrillo adicional?” she called.

  A minute later, the deckhand was lighting a cigarette for her. Julia took a deep drag, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs before exhaling a cloud into the early morning air.

  Sebastian stood up and joined her at the railing, his chiseled features revealing his surprise. “I didn’t realize you were a smoker,” he remarked.

  “I’m not. Well, not anymore, anyway.” She sucked down some more nicotine. “I quit three years ago.”

  Sebastian didn’t make a smartass comment about her return to the dark side, which was damn fortunate for him, because had he lectured her, she might have ripped his head off. She was too angry at the moment. Too horrified. Too anesthetized. Too cold. Too everything.

  She focused on the calm water for one long moment before shooting Sebastian a sidelong look. “The customs officials at the Ecuador port will detain me when I can’t offer them any identification,” she said flatly.

  “We won’t be going to the port.”

  Questioning that cryptic response would’ve taken too much effort, so she just moved on to the next issue at hand. “I won’t be able to leave the country without my passport. Everything I own, all my ID and credit cards and belongings, it’s all in my tent back at the clinic.”

  Her throat closed up as she thought of the clinic and pictured it being consumed by fire.

  Grieve later, damn it!

  “Your passport is useless now,” Sebastian replied. “It’s undoubtedly been flagged, which means if you tried to use it to board a flight, airport security will be all over you. Same with credit cards. If you paid for a bus, train or plane ticket using your credit card, they’ll find you. You’re officially a wanted woman, Doc.”

  A feeling of sheer helplessness climbed up the bumps of her spine. “Why? What the hell did those soldiers want from me?”

  “You know exactly what they wanted—to shut you up.”

  “Because I caught them getting rid of those bodies.” She heaved a weary breath. “But this is ridiculous. I can go to the American embassy for help. This conspiracy or whatever it is can’t be government-sanctioned. Those men are obviously involved in something shady.”

  His answering laugh was dry. “And the government can’t be shady? Wake up, Julia. Someone authorized that army general to initiate cleanup protocols. Someone dispatched all those soldiers.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged. “No clue.”

  She raised the cigarette to her lips and took another frustrated pull. “I don’t understand this. Any of this! What am I supposed to do now? If I can’t go to the embassy, how do I get home? How do I get back to Boston?”

  “You don’t. And you shouldn’t,” he said in a deadly voice. “Your life is at risk now. You know that the villagers in Esperanza were killed by a virus that was intentionally released by the American government, or the San Marquez government, or both. Chances are, the people in charge will sweep this under the rug, but if it does make the news, they’ll probably blame it on a malaria outbreak or a rebel massacre, like they did in Corazón.”

  “Corazón? Wait, wasn’t that the village that Hector Cruz burned to the ground?”

  Sebastian released a harsh laugh. “That’s what they want you to think. But the rebels didn’t murder the people in Corazón. They died of a virus, just like the folks in Esperanza.”

  Skepticism grabbed hold of her. “So you’re saying that this virus is actually being tested on unsuspecting people in remote San Marquez villages?”

  “That’s what the evidence seems to suggest.”

  She studied Sebastian’s face, noting the hard set of his jaw. You’d think he’d look tired and disheveled after a long night of breaking into military camps and riding horses and bribing a fishing captain for a ride, but the man was utterly a
lert and put-together. His gray eyes were sharp, he didn’t have so much as a smudge on his all-black getup, and the dark blond stubble covering his face only made him appear even more handsome.

  After taking one last drag of her cigarette, Julia flicked the butt into the water and turned to meet Sebastian’s eyes. “I think I want that explanation now.”

  Chapter 6

  “Who are you, Sebastian?” Julia pressed when he didn’t utter a word in response.

  Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the rusted steel railing and fixed those deep gray eyes on the calm waves beyond the boat. “I’m a soldier. Special Forces.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Active duty?”

  “I was until my own government decided they preferred me dead.”

  Julia battled another burst of skepticism. “Someone is trying to kill you?”

  “Yup. The first attempt was right after my unit was recalled back to the States ten months ago. Couple days after our debriefing, I was nearly hit by a car in front of my apartment.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

  He snorted. “The driver was gunning for me, Doc. Cops didn’t believe me either, but trust me, I know a threat when I see one. You develop a sixth sense working black ops. Someone wanted me dead that day, and they tried again two months later. I was on my bike when the brakes just up and failed—two days after my mechanic replaced them. I spun out on the interstate, nearly got decapitated by a damn eighteen-wheeler.”

  Her eyes widened. “Did the police believe you this time?”

  “Nope. My mechanic said the brake lines were clearly cut. Cops enlisted their own man to verify, and he insisted it was a brake malfunction.” Sebastian’s voice dripped with contempt. “I didn’t stick around long enough to argue. I hooked up with Tate and Prescott, and got the hell out.”

  “Tate and Prescott?” she echoed.

  “The last two members of my unit. Everyone else is dead.” His tone thickened with grief. “Tate—he was our commanding officer—well, his brother Will died in Corazón during that last op. But the others were killed after we got home, and all of them died from bogus causes—mugging, cancer, drunk driving accident. It was total BS and we all knew it. Then someone tried to blow Tate’s brains out, supposedly a gang-related drive-by, but he knew better. He suggested we get the hell out of the country before we wound up dead.”