Читать книгу Running Fire - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 10
ОглавлениеLEAH FELT THE man’s calloused hand on her left arm that hurt so damn much. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and couldn’t think coherently.
“Ma’am,” he drawled, “just be still. You took a bad bump to your head. Things will clear if you don’t struggle so much.”
This time, she heard what he was saying. It was low in timbre. Caring. His tone calmed her frantic, chaotic mind. Her whole body hurt. Leah felt as if she’d been in a major car wreck.
Opening her eyes, she blinked, staring up into the deeply shadowed face of the man kneeling beside her. She noticed the lines around the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines, maybe? Her mind was wandering, shorting out. He had an oval face, strong chin and large, intelligent-looking eyes. The word rugged had been created for him. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome at all. Rather, it looked as though his face had been hewn and sculpted out of mountain rock. His nose reminded her of a hawk’s.
It was his eyes that snagged her attention the most. Wide spaced, gray with large black pupils and a black ring outside of the iris, they also gave the impression of a hawk. Maybe an eagle. And then her gaze wandered down to his delicious-looking mouth. Leah saw a lazy smile spread across it, and she felt relief tunnel through her. As hard as this man looked, his mouth was his saving grace. It was chiseled, the lower lip slightly fuller, the corners curved naturally upward. This man laughed a lot, Leah thought. His black hair was longish, almost to the nape of his neck, his face bearded. That made sense if he was a SEAL. They always wore beards and had long hair in order to fit in with the male Muslim population of Afghanistan.
“That’s it, Sugar,” he soothed, “just rest. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take good care of you.”
Those last words rang in her mind. I’ll take good care of you. Leah closed her eyes, his hand cradling her left forearm as if he were holding a much-beloved child. A large hand, the fingers so long that Leah could feel their length against her upper limb. His hand was calloused and felt rough on her sensitive skin. Her mind was cartwheeling between the past and present.
Hayden Grant, her ex-husband, came out of the blackness and threatened to engulf her. His leering features, those pale blue eyes that looked almost colorless when he was going to beat her, stared back at her.
The man with the Southern drawl broke the hold of her building terror. He would take care of her. No man had ever done that before. Not her father. Not her ex-husband. Yet, as Leah felt herself fighting not to lose consciousness, she honed in on this stranger’s quiet, soft voice.
“Now take some slow, deep breaths. You need oxygen. That’s it, just take it nice and easy, you’re doin’ well. We’ll get you up and over this shock you’re wallowing around in right now.”
Leah had no way of explaining why his drawl had such a powerful impact on her, but it did. She listened to his voice, caressed by its natural warmth, and for the first time in her life she trusted a man. He was leading her out of the dark, pulling her into the light, and she desperately wanted to rid herself of Hayden’s sneering face, his colorless eyes locked on to her, coming after her, his fist cocked to strike her.
Leah quivered, and a rasping cry lodged in her throat. And then, Hayden’s face disappeared, drowned out by the man speaking to her, calling her back to the here and now.
Frantic, Leah struggled to hone in on his voice, trying to understand his instructions. More than anything, that physical link with him, his large hand swallowing up her forearm, was like a beacon of hope, an anchor in her world of chaos and distortion.
“You’re coming around,” he told her. “A couple more slow breaths ought to do it.”
Leah felt weakness steal through her even though she wanted to wake up. And then, she felt a cool, delicious cloth move across her wrinkled brow. The coolness felt refreshing against the heat of her skin. Her skin was tight and smarting, as if she’d been in strong sunlight far too long. The cloth caressed her right cheek, and then her left one. She felt the coolness encircle her neck and Leah swallowed, her mouth so dry it felt as if it were going to crack. She was suddenly so thirsty that it drove her to wakefulness.
“Hey,” Kell called softly, giving her an easy smile, “welcome back to the land of the living. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He studied her eyes, and he could see she was starting to register his voice. As a combat medic, he knew a concussion, even a mild one, rattled a person’s brain. As she barely turned her head, his face so close to hers, he could see her eyes were a deep forest green, reminding him of the trees on the hills around his parents’ home in Sandy Hook, the dairy farm that was surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains. That midsummer green was found in the oak, elm and beech trees, identical to the shade of her breathtakingly beautiful eyes.
Kell knew the advantage of talking slowly, soothingly, to someone who had just survived near death. He’d done it for members of his SEAL platoon over the years. Taking the cloth, he wiped away more of the dried blood along the slender column of her neck. Touch was important. It anchored a person who was disoriented and it helped them focus.
He continued to cradle her arm because he didn’t want her trying to use it while it was open to infection. As soon as he could get her conscious, Kell would explain to her what he was going to do. Then he could get on with stabilizing the pilot.
Leah slowly licked her lips and frowned, staring up at him. Kell would give anything to know what she was thinking. Strands of ginger hair fell across half her brow.
He set the cloth on his ruck and with his long, spare fingers, eased the strands away from her face. Her cheeks had been wan, but now he was starting to see a bit of color flood back into them. That sinner’s mouth of hers was his undoing. The woman didn’t wear any makeup. There was no need for any, Kell observed. Her hair glinted in the light thrown out by his LED flashlight. He saw some auburn strands mixed with red and gold ones. There was a light covering of freckles across her cheeks, as well.
His medic’s eyes noticed her nose had been badly broken. It didn’t lessen the impact of her face, which grabbed simultaneously at his heart and lower body. Still, Kell wondered how she’d broken it. And why hadn’t it been reset? Some doc hadn’t done his job, that was for damned sure.
Picking up the washcloth, he continued to gently move it across her brow, cheeks and neck. Kell could tell she liked it because the tension flowed out of her. What had she cried out about earlier? Pain? He wanted to give her a small dose of morphine, but didn’t dare until he could fully assess her head injury.
Leah closed her eyes, suddenly weary. The coolness of the cloth against her skin felt heavenly. It struck her spinning senses that it could be a lover gently and tenderly caressing her. She’d never known such a touch. Never would. But his ministrations helped her battle back the darkness that once again wanted to engulf her.
She felt the cloth lift. Missing his touch, she forced her eyes open. This time, her brain registered how tall and lean he was. There was kindness in his gaze and it shook Leah. A man who was kind? In another lifetime maybe. Her stomach rolled and she felt the acid in the back of her throat. It came on suddenly, out of nowhere. And then, it subsided. Breathing irregularly, Leah put her hand against her stomach. At least she was feeling better than before.
“Are you thirsty?”
Leah nodded only once because her head hurt so damn much when she moved it. He was wrapping something around her lower left arm. And then, she felt him leave her side. Opening her eyes, she saw his darkly shadowed shape move from her left side, stop near her feet and retrieve something out of a bag and then straighten. He was lean and graceful, reminding her of a wild animal, a predator, bonelessly moving in her direction. She closed her eyes, her cartwheeling imagination out of control.
Her mind halted as Leah felt his arm slide beneath her neck. He slowly raised her up into a semisitting position. She was too weak to open her eyes.
“Don’t drink too much water. Your stomach’s probably raising hell on you about now.”
Leah felt the press of the bottle lip against her mouth, tasted the first of the water. She was so thirsty. He didn’t allow her a lot of water and she made an unhappy noise in her throat, a protest, when he withdrew the water bottle from her lips.
Weak, her head lolled against his shoulder. Leah inhaled the odor of male sweat and the damp fabric he wore. Automatically, her nostrils flared. He carefully laid her down.
Leah felt her stomach lurch and she rolled herself onto her left side, heaving. Her stomach emptied and the dry heaves took over. Leah hated vomiting more than anything, the bitter taste of acid coating her mouth. Her eyes watered. Her nose ran like a faucet. Feeling a mess, the man brought her back into his arms. Breathing hard, Leah weakly tried to wipe her mouth to get rid of the horrible taste.
“Easy,” he soothed near her ear, holding her in his arms. “I’m going to give you a little more water. Hold it in your mouth, swish it around and then spit it out.”
His instructions were easy enough for Leah to follow. Opening her eyes, she spat the stuff out onto the cave floor. Her mind felt more clear, less gauzy and incoherent. He gave her more water and she did the same thing.
“A concussion will do that to you,” he told her quietly. Kell knew he shouldn’t enjoy holding this woman officer in his arms, but he did. She looked so helpless.
But he knew that wasn’t the case if she was a Shadow pilot. She had a set of invisible titanium balls as far as he was concerned, and he smiled a little. His respect for her was solid. SEALs held all Shadow pilots in high esteem. They risked their lives every time they went out on a mission to pick them up or drop them off in enemy territory. This woman was no weakling. And damn, he liked a strong woman, someone who had backbone coupled with grit woven with a stubborn spirit. Just looking at Chief L. Mackenzie, Kell knew she encompassed all those qualities. And like it or not, he was drawn to her because of it.
Leah lay in his arms, her cheek resting against his broad chest. She could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.
Under ordinary circumstances, she’d have pushed away and not allowed a man to touch her, much less hold her intimately like this. Her senses were warped, and she swore she could feel his incredible concern radiating from him to her, enveloping her, holding her safe. Never had she felt anything like this from any man. It just wasn’t possible. It was her imagination.
Yet, when he caressed her gritty, dirty cheek, his fingers rough against her skin, tears burned against her closed eyelids. The gesture wasn’t sexual. It was caring. More tears welled into her eyes and Leah wished somewhere deep within her that, when she’d been eight years old, her father had held her like this. Held her, protected her, let her know that he loved her even though... Leah shut the ugly door on that time in her life, serrating pain squeezing her heart.
As he laid her down, Leah felt abandoned. She wanted those arms around her. She already missed the momentary sense of safety he’d afforded her as she’d lain against his chest. Battling back the tears, Leah gulped several times, her emotions running rampant. She could barely control them. Lifting her lashes she saw the man walk around and kneel at her left side once again. There was concern in his eyes, care burning deep within them. She could feel it, sense it.
“Wh-who...?” she managed, her voice cracking. She saw him tip his head, study her in the silence. For once, she didn’t feel like she always did when a man looked at her. All they saw were her breasts, her ass and her long legs. They didn’t see her as a person, only as a sexual object, just as Hayden had.
“Welcome back,” he said, that easy smile shaping his mouth. “I’m Navy Chief Kelly Ballard. I rescued you after you egressed out of that burning helo.”
Swallowing hard, Leah stared into his shadowed, hard face. It it weren’t for his Southern accent, that hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his well-shaped mouth, she’d have been scared. Because most men scared her. “K-Kelly?” Her mind was trying to wrap around all the information. It was too much for her to process.
“Most folks just call me Kell,” he offered.
That was better. It was simple. Her mind could handle four letters. Leah looked up. It was dark. She tried to see where she was. Only a small light cast shadows between them. She could see nothing else. Her brows drew down and she tried to think, but damn, thoughts were elusive. “Where?”
“In a cave,” he told her quietly. Kell could see her fighting to put it all together. He saw her confusion. Her eyes were more alert looking. He added, “You’re safe. I want you to just relax.”
Safe. Leah closed her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she trusted this man. This stranger with the soft, deep Southern voice.
“I need to tend to your arm,” he told her, placing it across his thighs. “You cut it badly. I need to clean it out and stitch it up. Think you can lie still while I do that?”
Arm. Yes, it hurt like hell. Slowly moving her head to the left, because movement made her dizzy and then nauseous, Leah saw her lower arm wrapped in white gauze. She saw dark coloring across the dressing, slowly realizing it was blood. Her blood.
He was pulling medical items out of his ruck and laying them neatly next to where he knelt on a small blanket. He donned a pair of gloves, and then took a syringe and poked the needle into a bottle he held.
“Y-yes, I won’t move,” she managed, her voice raw, her throat feeling dry and hot.
“You’re a real trooper,” he murmured. “I’m going to take off the dressing and then I’m going to give you several shots of Lidocaine that will numb the area I have to clean out and then stitch up. You ready for that?”
“Y-yes.” It took such effort to speak. Leah wondered if he was a doctor, because he seemed completely confident in what he was doing. The bloody gauze came off. He cradled her arm across his hard thighs. The pricks of the needle were uncomfortable, but nothing like the pain she felt in her arm.
“Good going,” he praised, setting the syringe aside. “Now we’ll give it a couple of minutes and then I can clean it out and stitch it up.”
Frowning, she studied him. “Doctor?”
“No, ma’am. Combat medic.” He gave her a lazy grin. “But you’re in good hands, so no worries.”
She did trust him. What was it about Kell? The earnestness in his expression, a face that had been so harshly weathered? That kind, understanding look in those dark gray eyes of his? The way his mouth moved when he spoke to her in that rich, country-boy dialect that just naturally set her at ease? Leah felt as if her world had not only been pulled inside out, but upside down. A man could never be trusted on a personal level.
Oh, she trusted the pilots she flew with, but that was different. There were no emotional ties with them. It was professional, detached, and they all had a job to do.
And then, the crash slammed back into her memory. Leah gasped, her eyes widening. She tried to get up, but he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and kept her down.
“Sugar, you’re not ready to get up just yet. What’s wrong?”
Her emotions ran wild. Grief tunneled through her. “M-my crew...”
Kell saw tears jam into her eyes, heard the rasping terror in her voice. He kept his hand on her shoulder more to comfort her than anything else. “I’m sorry. They didn’t make it. Only you managed to escape.” His heart wrenched as huge tears rolled down her pale, tense cheeks. Oh, hell, he hated when a woman cried. “Your helo got hit with two RPGs,” he told her. “You were lucky you survived.”
Leah lifted her right hand, covering her eyes, a sob rocking through her. Brian, Liam and Ted gone? Dead? She couldn’t help herself. She began crying, softly because every time her body jerked she felt bruising pain in her head and left arm. She felt Kell’s large hand on her shoulder, patting it gently like he would pat a child who was upset. She let her hand fall away from her eyes and she gave him a pleading look. “Are you sure they’re dead?”
It hurt Kell, but he said, “They’re gone. I’m sorry,” and he gently pressed his fingertips here and there around the gash. She showed no reaction to his touch. “Can you lie still now for me? I need to stitch this closed and I can’t do it if you’re moving around. Okay?”
Leah collapsed against the makeshift bed he’d placed beneath her. She dragged her good arm across her eyes, grief-stricken over the loss of Brian and their crew. “Yes, go ahead,” she choked out brokenly, her voice gutted with grief.
It didn’t take Kell long to clean and stitch up the nasty gash. He could feel grief rolling off her. Kell understood loss because he’d lost some of his best SEAL friends over the past nine years. There was nothing he could say or do. Grief had its own way with a person and sometimes nothing could stop it, lift it or dissolve it.
As he finished placing a waterproof dressing over most of her lower arm, he gently laid it across her belly. Getting up, he put everything back into his ruck where it belonged. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was nearly 0300. It was time to check out things around their hide. Kell never took anything for granted. The Taliban were sniffing around for them and he knew it. They were premier trackers, never to be underestimated.
He knelt down on one knee and touched her shoulder. She pulled her arm away from her reddened eyes. “I need to do a little recon,” he told her. “I’ll be back in about thirty to forty minutes.” He pulled his SIG pistol out and placed it near her right hand. “You know how to use a pistol? It’s got nine rounds in the magazine and there’s a bullet in the chamber. There’s no safety on this model. If I don’t come back, then know there’s a tunnel—” and he pointed toward it “—over there. If you hear Taliban coming, get my ruck, put it on your back and take that tunnel out to the side of the mountain. It’s got a compass and map, plus a sat phone in it. You can call for help. Okay?” His gaze dug into hers. Kell could see she understood his instructions.
“I can do that,” Leah said, her voice husky with tears.
Kell reached out and gently touched the crown of her head because he saw the look of terror and abandonment in her eyes. She was still fragile from the head injury. “I’ll be back, Sugar,” he promised.
Leah watched as he took long, lanky strides and disappeared into the darkness with his Win-Mag across his shoulder. She turned, realizing the penlight was the only light source for her to be able to see the area where she lay. Slowly, Leah weakly pushed herself into a sitting position. She was on a sleeping bag with two rolled-up blankets, one for a pillow, the other beneath her knees.
Emotionally, she felt demolished, the tears still falling over the loss of Brian, Liam and Ted. She scrubbed her eyes, finding her left arm painful to raise. Staring at the dressing, Leah began to appreciate Kell’s medical skills.
Gazing around, she heard running and dripping water to her right. She picked up the penlight and flashed it in that direction. There was a small pool of water. Leah realized water was leaking from above the cave roof, finding its way down into the pool. They had water. That was a good thing.
Her head ached like hell. Every time she turned it, dizziness struck her. Leah knew if Kell didn’t return, she wouldn’t have much of a chance of survival by herself. Not in her present injured condition.
She was exhausted and lay down on her right side. Less pain in her head that way. The cave was chilly, so she reached down and took the rolled blanket, smoothing it out across her damp flight suit. Finally, she was warm, and she shut her eyes and spiraled quickly into a deep, healing sleep.
* * *
KELL RETURNED AN hour later. He moved without a sound as he entered the cave. Turning on his other penlight, he saw the woman pilot asleep. Good.
Wearily, he propped up his Win-Mag against the cave wall. Picking up his pistol, which was very near her right hand, he brought it to the other side of where she slept. There was nothing to do now but rest. He stretched out on the cave floor and pulled his ruck up as a pillow for his head.
Two feet away from him Chief Mackenzie slept. He felt compelled to curve himself around her body, but knew that he couldn’t. She was an Army warrant officer. He was an enlisted Navy SEAL. The two would never meet rank-wise. And besides, he liked a woman to come to him on her own rather than imposing himself on her. Closing his eyes, Kell dropped off in minutes.
An hour later, Kell was snapped out of his sleep by a voice. Instantly, he pulled the other rifle he carried, the M-4, into his hands, trying to peer into the utter darkness. And then he realized it was the woman pilot talking in her sleep. She was restless, moving onto her back.
Worried, Kell set the rifle nearby and turned on the penlight, propping it against the cave wall, close enough so he could assess her condition. Slowly getting to his knees, Kell saw her throw her right arm across her face, as if someone were hitting her. Her cries were soft, almost like a rabbit crying after being caught by a predator. What in tarnation was going on here?
“No...”
Hesitating, Kell sat paralyzed for a moment, unsure whether to wake her up or not. A lot of people in his business had nightmares. It was just part of the PTSD they all got sooner or later.
“No! Hayden! Don’t hit me!”
His heart plummeted. Someone was hitting her? No way. Yet he saw her trying to use her right arm to defend herself from unseen head blows. What the hell? And then, Kell saw her jerk her left arm up. She cried out in pain, waking herself up.
Kell moved to Mackenzie’s side, gently catching her left arm, bringing it down against her belly. “Hey, Sugar, you’re having some bad dreams. I need you to wake up.” She was breathing unevenly. He placed his fingers inside her wrist. Her pulse was pounding like a freight train.
When her eyes opened, he saw them glazed with terror. Her soft, full mouth was contorted, the corners pulled inward. Automatically, Kell smoothed her hair across the top of her head, crooning to her. She was still caught in whatever the nightmare was. Kell didn’t want to believe that a man was hitting her. Maybe just a bad dream about the crash?
Leah moaned and covered her eyes with her right hand. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her voice low and hoarse.
“It’s all right,” Kell murmured. He liked the soft strands of her hair. It was strong, thick hair. The strands were silky and sifted through his fingers. He saw his touch was having a positive effect on her. He kept his other hand over hers, keeping that injured arm on her belly, unmoving because it was such a long, deep gash. Sudden movement could rip the stitches he’d so carefully put in.
Kell’s hand on hers felt warm and dry. Leah felt sweaty. She was trembling from the nightmare that came too often and usually left her up the rest of the night, adrenaline screaming through her body to run and escape.
She needed Kell’s firm, warm touch. His hand was so much larger than hers, spreading out across her abdomen. The more he moved strands of her hair through his fingers, the more she calmed down. Leah wondered if he was like a horse whisperer, having magical qualities in his hands and voice to tame even the most violent of human beings. Whatever it was, maybe because he was a combat medic, he had a healing touch. And she trusted him.
Kell saw her start to pull out of it and removed his hands. He rested them on his thighs, absorbing her beauty. Probably married. Yep, someone as pretty as she was would definitely be married. He felt sad about that, but he was a realist. Even if she hadn’t been, it would never work. It was against the UCMJ for an officer to fraternize with an enlisted person. Both could receive a bad conduct discharge, which would leave their careers effectively destroyed.
Yet, as he absorbed her, his heart reached out to her. That was silly and he snorted softly. He had a family called the SEALs. Getting involved again was not in the cards. It was a high-stakes poker game and the last time Kell had played it, he’d lost.
His lawyer wife, Addison, had hated his long periods of being gone, his having to spend six months in combat. She told him she felt as though she was marrying the SEALs and not him. Sadly, there was a lot of truth to her incisive statement. Kell had learned the hard way women weren’t meant to be married to a SEAL for long. There was a 90 percent divorce rate among them. And if a marriage lasted ten years, that was considered a long time. That should have warned him off, but it hadn’t. Now, he was a part of that sad statistic.
Leah opened her eyes, released from the nightmare. She felt Kell’s presence to her left and slowly turned her head. He sat back on his heels watching her. There was such calm in his face. His shoulders were so broad, as if they could carry more weight than a normal person’s. Even dressed in SEAL cammies, she could see his chest was broad, hips narrow. He was probably around six foot, maybe a little more. Her gaze drifted down to his hands resting on his long, hard thighs.
Healing hands. Hands that did not hurt her, but took her pain away. She closed her eyes. The agony of her abusive marriage had taken a chunk out of her fractured soul. Hayden had taught her about the dark side of a man’s nature. He’d been a sexual predator, physically, emotionally and mentally abusive to her. He’d needed to control her, remind her who was boss.
How had she survived it? There were times when Leah thought for sure Hayden was going to kill her. He’d come close three different times. And all three times, she’d ended up in the hospital. Desperate to forget it, Leah opened her eyes and met Kell’s curious gaze.
“I’m sorry for waking you...”
“It happens,” he said with a slight shrug. “Want to sit up?”
Nodding, she whispered, “Yes, but I feel like a damned puppet.”
Ballard gave her a lazy grin and came over and helped her, placing the blanket behind her back so the rough cave wall wouldn’t tear at her or her flight suit. “You will for a couple of days.” He brought over her helmet. “Take a look at this.” He turned it so that it showed where part of it had been split open.
Drawing in a deep breath, Leah’s eyes widened. “That was the blade,” she rasped. “It came flying into the cockpit.” And it had struck Brian, and part of it had cut into her helmet. She whispered tearfully, “Jesus...”
“Yes, I suspect Jesus did have something to do with saving you tonight,” Kell murmured, placing the helmet aside. He saw the stark reality in her eyes, the understanding that she could have been decapitated if she’d been at a different angle in that cockpit. Just inches...
“I’m not a religious person,” Leah muttered, closing her eyes, remembering the blade slicing like a saber through the cockpit.
“All men find religion in foxholes,” he drawled. “Death makes for a lot of converts.”
Opening her eyes, she looked over at him. She was feeling better but only marginally. “I never told you who I was. I’m Leah Mackenzie. Thank you for saving my life.”
Heat coursed down through Kell. The expression in her eyes touched his heart. His whole damn body was on fire. No woman had ever affected him so powerfully. He could see the gratefulness in her green eyes, in the way her mouth went soft. So damned kissable. If only... He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to officially meet you, ma’am.”
“Don’t go there,” she protested. “Just call me Leah. Please?” She gave him a pleading look. “I don’t think the UCMJ is out here looking over our shoulders right now, do you?”
He managed a one-cornered grin. “No, I guess not. That’s a pretty name you have, Leah.”
“An old-fashioned name. I was named after my grandmother, who I loved so much.”
“Nothing wrong with being a bit old-fashioned,” he said. “I kind of like it.” Hell, he was devouring her with his eyes. Kell didn’t think she really knew how beautiful she was. There was no arrogance about her. No sense of entitlement that some gorgeous women demanded. She appeared homespun to him and that just added to his desire for her.
“How did you know my name?”
“When you were unconscious, I pulled out your dog tags.” He motioned to them hanging outside her flight suit. “I called my master chief, reported what happened. Told him I had you and gave him your name and number. I didn’t want your husband and the rest of your family thinking you’d died in that crash.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, the honesty and concern in his gaze, she admitted, “I don’t have a husband.” Thank God for small and large favors. “And my father—” she shrugged painfully, her whole body feeling massively bruised “—he’ll see this as a pain in his ass, one that I’ve always been to him. It’s just one more thing he’s got to ‘handle.’” Bitterness coated her tone. “I don’t know whether he’ll be relieved or not.”
Stunned by her admission, Kell sat down, crossing his legs, his long, spare hands resting over his knees. He saw grief in Leah’s eyes, even though she tried to sound tough, as if she didn’t care. But she did. He could feel it.
Kell couldn’t be dishonest with himself. He was glad to hear she wasn’t married, but that surprised the hell out of him. “I can’t think any parent wouldn’t want to know their child was safe.”
Mouth thinning, she sighed. “Not all families are happy families, Kell.”
“If you don’t have a husband, then maybe a significant other?”
“No.” Her voice hardened. “I don’t ever want to be in a marriage or a relationship ever again.”
Chills went through Kell. The look in her eyes was that of a trapped animal who hadn’t been able to escape. And then he remembered the name she’d cried out during the nightmare: Hayden. Was that her ex-husband? “What about a mother?”
“Dead,” Leah said, closing her eyes for a moment, wanting the pain in her head to reduce. “She’s better off that way.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Kell said, meaning it. When she opened her eyes, he saw moistness in them. “Listen, let me do a quick exam on you. If your pupils stay equal, I can get you some morphine to kill that pain.” He looked at his watch. It was 0530. It was June 2 and the sun would be rising early. They could stay awake or sleep. No. He desperately needed some more sleep.
“Sure,” Leah said. She watched Kell open the ruck. He pulled out a penlight. And then he got up on one knee, his large hand engulfing the right side of her face as he cradled her jaw. He leaned forward, maybe six inches between them.
“Just look at my nose,” he instructed. “I’m going to pass the light from one eye to the other. If all goes well, your eyes should dilate equally.”
Her cheek prickled with heat, his fingers rough, but somehow, incredibly gentle. Hayden had never touched her like that. Not ever. All he knew how to be toward her was rough and hurtful.
Leah kept her eyes trained on Kell’s intent face. He passed the light slowly from right to left. And then back again.
“You’re good to go,” he murmured, pleased, as he switched off the light. Kell wanted to keep his hand on her jaw. God help him, but he wanted to kiss Leah senseless. That mouth of hers, full, exquisitely shaped, was wreaking hell on his sense of control. Forcing himself to break contact with her, Kell leaned over and rummaged around for a syringe and another bottle. He put just enough morphine in it to dull pain while still keeping Leah alert, not sleepy.
Rubbing her upper arm with an alcohol wipe, he gave her the shot. “There, you’re going to feel a whole lot more perky in about ten minutes.” He gave her a warm smile and sat back down, putting the medical items back where they belonged.
“Thanks,” Leah whispered. “How did you know I was in pain?”
Shrugging, Kell murmured as he closed the ruck. “I sense it, I guess. Taken care of a number of my SEAL buddies in my platoon over the past nine years. I don’t know if I’m seeing it or feeling it. SEALs usually hide their pain, so I’d have to say it’s probably my gut instinct telling me.”
“Something I’m sure all you SEALs have in spades,” Leah said, watching the grace of his long fingers. Kell was boneless, she decided. Ruggedly handsome, in top athletic shape and very kind. That wasn’t the picture of a SEAL she’d expected. But then, Leah didn’t have that much contact with them, except to pick up and drop off teams. There was no time for chit-chat when that was happening. She saw he was tired.
“Maybe we could sleep for a while longer? I don’t know what your plan is for me.”
Lifting his head, Kell said, “We’ve got a whopping amount of Taliban all around us right now. They’re starting a push through the border area. My master chief said for us to sit tight if possible. It might take us days or maybe a week to get picked up. Either that, or try walking back into Bravo, which would be very dangerous.”
Staring at him like he’d grown two heads, Leah said, “What?” No rescue coming?
“We’re sandwiched in,” Kell explained, his voice becoming serious. “Master chief knows I know these mountains and caves better than anyone. And I was on a sniper op, waiting for an HVT when your crash occurred. He wants me to stick around to try to nail the HVT, and I want too, also.”
“Okay,” she said, understanding.
“You’ll be safe here,” Kell assured her. “And you aren’t in any serious medical condition, so the plan changed a bit. I need to take care of you, which I will, but I also have to nail that HVT. I’ve been sitting out here three weeks waiting for him.” He smiled a little. “What’s one more week? Besides, with that head injury of yours, the flight surgeon will put you on medical waiver for at least two to three weeks. You won’t be able to fly, anyway. Consider this a vacation of sorts.”
All that was true. Even now the pain was easing in her head and for that Leah was grateful to Kell, for his care and continued thoughtfulness. She had a deep, scary feeling that her entire life had just changed, but she couldn’t predict the outcome of it, or understand the challenges that would come with it as a result. Yet...
