Commando (14 page)

His mouth tight against the pain that attacked him in ever-growing waves, Jake gripped her shoulder and moved his right foot. Biting back a groan, he lifted his leg and took that first step.

“Okay?” Shah demanded breathlessly, watching his rugged profile anxiously.

“Yeah…sore but usable,” he rasped. “Let me try the left one.” He lifted it and then slowly placed his full weight on it. His leg didn’t buckle beneath him. Jake released a long-held breath. “No muscle damage. Or, if there is, it isn’t going to cripple me.”

The words were sweet to Shah’s ears. “Thank the Great Spirit,” she murmured. Their next challenge was to get Jake up on the platform for the night. With each step, Jake seemed to grow a little bit stronger, a little more stabilized. As they passed the dead boar, Jake stopped and looked down at the animal.

“Three shots?” He looked at Shah.

“Yes. I fired three times.” She gulped. “I was so worried I’d hit you instead of the boar.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Who taught you to shoot like that?”

“I used to belong to the pistol team at Stanford,” Shah muttered.

Impressed, Jake smiled slightly. “With the way that boar was moving around, there was every chance you could have nailed me instead.”

With a shake of her head, Shah said unsteadily, “I know….”

“The tree’s next,” Jake said, and they began a slow walk toward the platform.

Shah’s admiration for Jake soared in the next few minutes. She watched him heft himself onto the platform with his powerful arms. The pain he must be feeling didn’t stop him from lifting his legs high into the air and landing with a thunk on the platform of palms and branches he’d built earlier. Unable to assist him, she stood on the ground, watching him maneuver himself around until he lay down.

“You okay?” she called, amazed.

“Yeah,” Jake grunted. His legs were hurting like hell, but he wasn’t about to let Shah know it. She was shaken enough by the incident. “Just get the knapsacks, the pistol and our food. It’s getting dark.” Then he said weakly, “You don’t need to be jaguar bait.” He lay down, dizziness forcing him to close his eyes and lie still. He’d probably lost close to a pint of blood, he thought. But if he could sleep tonight, his body should revitalize enough for the trek back to the mission tomorrow morning. His mind spun with options. The worst, Jake knew, would be if his legs were infected. Iodine would kill a certain amount of bacteria, but not all of it. No, he needed powerful third-generation antibiotics, or he’d more than likely be a dead man within the next day or two.

As he lay in the gathering darkness, contemplating the gloomy limbs and leaves above him, Jake knew he didn’t want to die. Not this way, and not now. He loved Shah. For a long time, he’d walked numbly through life, not really caring whether he lived or died. Now, for the first time since his family had been torn from him, Jake desperately wanted to live.

As Shah climbed up to the platform with the knapsacks, he studied her in the growing dusk. There was such determination written on her features. Jake saw the guilt and anguish in her eyes and realized she felt responsible for his wounds. With time, he told himself as he threw his arm against his sweaty brow, he could ease Shah out of the overresponsible attitude she had toward people in her life. There was so much he wanted to share with her, to teach her—and have her teach him—he thought as she left the platform to retrieve their food.

Night fell rapidly after Shah climbed up on the platform with their cache of food. She had cut several liana vines, knowing that Jake would grow thirsty throughout the night, as a fever was sure to set in soon. Placing the vines against the trunk of the tree, she moved over to him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked in a low voice, touching his shoulder.

“Better,” Jake said. It was a lie.

“Really?”

He heard relief and surprise in Shah’s voice. Jake believed in white lies, lies that hurt no one and sometimes kept the damaging hurt of truth at bay—if only for a little while. “Yeah, I’m dizzy, but that’s about all. A good night’s sleep will set me up for tomorrow’s hike.”

A gasp escaped Shah. “Jake, do you really think you can walk back to the mission?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked wryly.

“You could stay here,” she began hesitantly, “and I could run back and get help.”

Jake shook his head. “It wouldn’t work, sweetheart.” He reached out and gripped her hand, which was resting lightly against his chest. Barely able to make out her features now, Jake said, “One thing recons are taught is that no matter how much pain you’re in you can walk. My wounds aren’t life-threatening, Shah. Another thing they taught us is that you go in as a team, and you come out as a team. A marine never leaves a squadmate behind. No, we’ll go back together.” That was partly a white lie. He knew his wounds could very well be life-threatening. “You did a hell of a good job wrapping my legs. It was smart putting the ace bandages over the dressing. They’ll hold everything in place until we get back to the mission.”

Shah didn’t have the courage to mention the possibility of infection. It scared her too much to speak about it. “You have enough courage for ten men,” she said, and placed her hand against his broad forehead. His flesh was damp, but Shah didn’t know whether it was the first sign of fever or just the normal humidity and temperature that was causing Jake to sweat.

“You’re the reason I want to make it back to the mission, Shah.” He absorbed the light, cool touch of her hand on his brow. Just that simple connection stabilized his out-of-control world. She possessed a serenity that calmed him no matter how much danger swirled around them. She was checking for fever, and he knew it. Jake loved her even more for trying to protect him against the worst that might happen. He watched her grow quiet over his statement.

Stunned by Jake’s whispered admission, Shah could say nothing. Taking her hand away, she said, “I want you to eat the two mangos—and no argument, Jake. You’ve lost a lot of fluids, and we need to replace as much as we can before we start back. I’ve got plenty of liana vines for water for you.”

Exhaustion stalked Jake as they ate and then settled down for the night. Shah insisted on keeping the pistol and taking the watch, for fear of a jaguar getting the scent of his blood and coming to investigate. Jake didn’t argue. He obediently took two aspirin with a little water. So far, he wasn’t feeling feverish, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Neither of them broached the subject, but he could feel the tension in Shah. Her worry was like a tangible thing.

As the aspirin dulled some of his pain, Jake fell asleep. He couldn’t roll on his side the way he wanted; his legs were too badly cut up for him to stand them touching each other. The last thing he saw was Shah leaning against the tree, her knees drawn upward toward her body, the pistol nearby.

Jake was jerked out of his sleep at dawn by a shattering, screaming cry that rocked the forest around them. Sitting up, he saw Shah leap to her feet, the pistol in hand. Her attention was riveted on the rain forest behind them.

“What—?” he mumbled groggily.

“Jaguar,” Shah breathed. “It’s the jaguar….”

Shaken, Jake froze. “How close?”

“N-not far,” she stammered. Shah’s eyes burned. She hadn’t slept at all. Trying to steady her hammering heart, she whispered, “She’s been around most of the night. I’ve heard her from time to time.” Licking her dry lips, Shah tried to penetrate the shadowy darkness of the rain forest. If only there were more light! “She’s close, Jake. Very close.”

Feeling helpless, Jake took his knife from its scabbard and held it firmly in his hand. His eyes wouldn’t adjust to the darkness so that he could try to spot the cat. “Will she attack?”

“I don’t know,” Shah said, holding the pistol ready. Now and then throughout the night she’d felt her back crawl with shivers. Intuitively she’d sensed the jaguar’s presence. The cat’s scream unnerved her, but she knew she mustn’t panic. She glanced over at Jake. His face was pasty, with a sheen of sweat across it. Her heart dropped when she realized that he was looking feverish.

“Tell me about jaguars,” Jake demanded, trying to sit up in a position that wasn’t so painful for him.

“They hunt at night and sleep during the day. That’s what we have going for us,” she told him. “It’s going to be daylight soon, and maybe she’ll go home to her tree and sleep.”

“Unless she’s really hungry and sees me hobbling along the riverbank,” Jake muttered.

Shah nodded wearily, gazing hard at the vegetation. “I hope she’s not that hungry.”

Jake sat there another fifteen minutes, tense and alert. The dawn grew brighter, and the birds began singing in the distance, but not near them—a strong indication that the jaguar was still close by. “Maybe,” he joked weakly, “if we give her this platform, she’ll stay here instead of tailing us.”

Her arms tired and heavy, Shah slowly allowed the pistol to drop to her side. Pushing her hair away from her face, she realized how tangled it had become. She glanced over at Jake. Forcing a slight smile, she said, “Why don’t we try it?”

Staying here might mean their demise, and Jake knew it. “Okay, partner, let’s saddle up and blow this joint. What do you say?”

Shah avoided his feverish gaze. Jake had such courage. He was the one who could die, and yet he was trying to lift her spirits by teasing her. As she silently gathered the items to put into the knapsacks, Shah allowed the word
partner
to touch her heart. Oh, if only she could be! Throughout the hours of darkness, Shah had ruthlessly examined the contents of her heart. For thirty years she’d experienced only the negative side of men. Now, when she’d least expected it, Jake had come along, epitomizing the positive male. He’d walked into her life and turned it upside down.

Shah made a silent promise to Jake that if they both survived this journey she would find the courage to tell him she loved him—regardless of his reaction. She didn’t know if Jake loved her. She knew he liked her, but for Shah that wasn’t enough. From the moment the boar had attacked Jake, her heart had belonged to Jake forever. She knew with a certainty that shook her soul there would never be another man for her. Jake was a gift from the Great Spirit—a second chance to live life happily.

Avoiding Jake’s red-rimmed eyes, Shah busied herself with the preparations for their journey. She left the camcorder behind to lighten their load, along with everything else except the first-aid kit, the pistol, and the videotape that incriminated Hernandez.

“Good move,” Jake praised her. “Bare essentials.”

Shah forced a grin. “I’m not lugging you
and
the knapsacks. Something had to go.”

Rallying beneath her indefatigable courage, Jake took hope. Fever was stalking him in earnest now, and he had realized earlier that his legs were puffy and swollen—a sure sign of infection. “Nice to know I’m more important than what’s going to be left behind,” he teased.

Shah moved over to the edge of the platform. “Jake Randolph, I’d never hear the end of it if I left you behind. Knowing you, you’d haunt me from the other world. Come on, we’ve got some hiking to do today—together.”

“
P
ai,
is he going to be all right?” Shah stood anxiously next to the priest as he injected Jake’s limp arm with a hefty dose of antibiotics. Jake lay unconscious on a gurney. Night was falling, and a nun who had been a surgical nurse, Sister Bernadette, stood opposite them. Despite her exhaustion, Shah’s gaze moved from the priest to the sister. Jake had collapsed a quarter of a mile from the Tucanos village, falling unconscious from a high fever and delirium. Luckily, several Indians fishing nearby had spotted them from their canoes. The short trip back to the mission had brought Jake safely home.
Home.

“It’s too early to tell, child,” Pai Jose whispered as he handed the empty syringe to the sister. “Sister Bernadette will change his dressings, scrub out all his wounds and then dress them again.” The priest placed his hand gently on Shah’s shoulder. “Come, you’re nearly ready to fall over. How long has it been since you ate any food or drank any water?”

Blearily Shah answered, “I made Jake eat the food and drink the water.” She touched her brow, on the verge of tears. Jake’s face was pale, frighteningly pale. Had she gotten him to the mission in time? The sister, a pleasant-faced woman in her sixties who wore a gray-and-white habit, took up a pair of surgical scissors and began to cut off the blood-soaked dressings on one of Jake’s legs. Unable to stand the sight of the festered wounds, Shah turned away. His infected legs had turned puffy, and the smell made her gag.

“Come,” the priest told her, more firmly this time, and he guided her out of the ward and toward his small residence. “First, you must eat. Then I want you to take a shower, change clothes and sleep.”

Tears stung Shah’s eyes. “
Pai,
I’ll eat, shower and change. But after that I’m coming back here. Jake needs me.”
And I need him.
Throughout the day, Shah had seen the raw courage that Jake possessed. He had grown delirious toward afternoon, but he had clung to her voice, leaning heavily on her and trusting her implicitly. They’d kept going despite the overwhelming odds against them. The jaguar had stalked them—quietly, out of sight, but Shah had known the cat was never more than a few hundred yards away at any given time. Twice she’d fired the pistol in hopes of scaring the hungry cat away. Afterward Shah could feel that the cat had left, but then, a little later, her back would crawl with cold shivers of warning and she knew the jaguar had returned to stalk them.

“You need sleep, child,” the priest murmured.

Shah knew she hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours, but it didn’t matter. She felt anything but sleepy. The possibility that Jake could die, that the antibiotics had been given to him too late, shook her as nothing else ever could have.
“Pai,”
she whispered, her voice cracking, “I love Jake. I want to be at his side. He could die. Don’t deny it. I know enough about this rain forest. I’ve seen a small cut become so infected that it caused blood poisoning. No, I want to be with him, pray for him…”

“We’ll all pray for him.” Pai Jose patted her shoulder gently. “I’m sure Sister Bernadette will be finished with her duties with Jake by the time you get back to the ward.”

“If blood poisoning doesn’t get him, gangrene could. He could lose his legs,” Shah whispered as she halted in front of the priest’s small room.

Pai Jose barely nodded his silvery head. “If blood poisoning has set in, that’s a possibility,” he agreed somberly. Placing his hands on her slumped shoulders, he added, “He could die, too. Losing his legs to gangrene would be terrible, but not fatal.”

“We don’t even have the capacity to get him to a hospital from here,” Shah said, blinking back the tears. The radio, old and worn, wasn’t working at the moment—their only tie with the outside world.

“Now, now, child. I’ve already sent Red Feather upstream to where the tugs dock with a message to bring a boat down here to transport Jake back to Manaus.”

Shah threw her arms around the old priest. “Oh, thank you!” she cried, swallowing against a sob.

The priest patted her consolingly. “You pray to your Great Spirit,” he told her, “and I’ll pray to God. Between our prayers, Jake will make it.”

The dim night light outlined Jake’s sweaty, harsh features. Shah numbly wrung out a cloth again from the nearby bowl of water and gently wiped down his face, neck and shoulders. It was nearly midnight, and she was fighting back tears of terror. The rest of the ward was quiet; a few snores of the Tucanos still recovering from their wounds and the chirping of crickets were the only sounds to soothe her fear. Moving the damp cloth across Jake’s powerful chest, she prayed steadily.

Sister Bernadette had confirmed her worst fears. Jake had blood poisoning. Now he wore only boxer shorts, the rest of his body unclothed to try to cool him from the fever’s effects. Shah could see those dangerous red lines moving up his long, powerful thighs. It was only a matter of hours, perhaps a day at the most, before they would reach his magnificent, giving heart and stop it from beating.

The sister had given Jake the largest dosage of antibiotics allowed—any more, and that could kill him, too, she had warned Shah earlier. Shah gripped Jake’s hot, sweaty arm and stared at his face. She understood as never before why Jake’s face was lined, with brackets carved deep around his partly opened mouth and furrows across his brow. There were many laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, too. She wondered if she’d ever see him smile again, or hear that booming laughter rumbling up out of his chest like thunder.

Jake’s temperature hovered at 104 degrees, and since their return to the mission it hadn’t moved downward, not even with all the antibiotics he’d been given to combat his massive infection. There was no ice available, so all Shah could do was continue to use a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from him—and pray. Luckily, they had IVs, and two of them were replacing the necessary liquids Jake was losing via sweat due to his high fever.

“Fight,” Shah whispered to him. She gathered up his hand and pressed his limp fingers to her lips. “Jake, fight for yourself. Fight—” she choked “—for me. Jake, I love you. Do you hear me? I love you!” Her raspy voice flowed into the silence. Shah pressed her fingertips against Jake’s massive wrist. His pulse was fast and hard, symbolizing the fight his body was valiantly waging against the blood poisoning.

Pressing her brow against Jake’s damp, naked shoulder and clinging to his hand, Shah released a shuddering sigh. She was beyond exhaustion, beyond any sense of time. The only thing she felt was her heart bursting with an agony she’d never encountered in her life. She alternately prayed, cooled Jake down and caught brief snatches of sleep.

Toward morning, Shah jerked upright. She was disoriented for a moment, but then she realized that Jake was moaning and muttering. Her hands shaking, she touched his glistening chest. Beads of sweat stood out all over his skin as she pressed her hands against him. His skin was cooler! Gasping, Shah turned and took the thermometer from the glass of alcohol on the bedside stand and slipped it beneath Jake’s armpit. It was the longest three minutes of her life. All of Shah’s awareness narrowed on that thermometer. Jake was muttering and turning his head slowly from one side to the other. The IVs would soon need to be replaced, Shah noted, for they were nearly empty of their lifesaving contents.

Taking the thermometer from his armpit, Shah stood up and held it under the night-light at the head of the bed to read it. Her blurry eyes stung with the effort. Blinking several times, frustrated by the tiny markings, Shah tried to steady her trembling hands. A gasp tore from her.

The thermometer read 102! She gave a little cry and lurched back to her chair. She had to sit down before she fell down. Jake’s fever had broken! The antibiotics had done their job, turning back the raging poisons that had threatened to overwhelm his body’s defenses. Quickly, Shah rinsed out the cloth and wiped the sweat from Jake’s body. Euphoria raced through Shah. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. All those prayers had helped turn the tide and she knew it.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and Shah twisted a look upward. Sister Bernadette’s sharp but kindly features came into view.

“And how is our patient?” she asked.

Sniffing, Shah showed her the thermometer. “Look,” she said, her voice the merest quaver, “Jake’s going to live. He’s going to live….”

Jake heard Shah’s voice, low and husky, near his ear. Was he dreaming again, or was it real? He wasn’t sure. Thirst vied with his focus on her lovely voice. The darkness he rested within was comfortable, and he felt no pain. Flashes of the boar attacking him, of Shah screaming, raced across his closed eyelids. He felt a woman’s hand in his, her fingers interlaced with his own. Shah. It had to be Shah! His heart galloped at the revelation. Jake fought the darkness, fought against the unconsciousness that tried to hold him prisoner.

Shah sat tensely as she watched Jake struggle to become conscious. She sat now on a metal chair next to Jake’s hospital bed. Did he have any idea that two days ago he’d been transported by tug and then by ambulance to the best hospital in Manaus? Probably not. The urgency to see Jake open his eyes, to talk with him, nearly overwhelmed her.

“Jake? Can you hear me? It’s Shah. Come on, it’s okay to wake up. You’re safe….” She bit back the need to speak of her love to him. His lashes fluttered, dark brown spikes against his pasty complexion, and she felt his fingers move weakly in her hands. Breaking into a smile of relief, Shah stood up and placed a hand on his damp brow. She hated the sterile smell that inhabited the hospital room, but was grateful for the cleanliness that surrounded them. Leaning down, she pressed one small kiss after another on Jake’s brow. He desperately needed a shave; his dark beard accentuated his harsh looks.

“Jake?” she whispered, and, following her heart’s bidding, she lightly placed a kiss on his stubbly cheek and then on his mouth. His lips were slightly parted, dry and cool to her touch. Shah couldn’t help herself; she pressed her lips more firmly against Jake’s mouth, breathing her life, her love, into him. There was such fragility to life, Shah realized as she shared her sweetness with him. When she felt him respond, his mouth moving weakly against her own, her heart soared with joy. Caught in the web of love created by his courage, her defenses gone, she drowned in the returning strength of Jake’s mouth as he took hers.

As his hand lifted to caress her neck and then her cheek, Shah sighed against his mouth and eased inches away. She smiled down into his dark gray eyes and pressed her hand against his. The words
I love you
begged to be spoken. But she was too emotional, too grateful for Jake’s life, to speak.

Jake sighed and closed his eyes. He savored Shah’s kiss;her lips were soft and beckoning, pulling him out of the darkness. He felt her velvety flesh beneath the palm of his hand and felt her cool hand upon his. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice rusty from disuse. “God, I love you, Shah.” And then he sank back into semiconsciousness, aware of her presence, her touch, never happier.

Shah felt Jake’s hand begin to slip from her cheek, and she caught it and gently placed it across his belly. Had she heard right? Had Jake whispered that he loved her? Or had it been her exhausted, starved imagination? She stood there, holding his hand, unsure. She’d slept very little—only snatches here and there over the past four days. She touched her brow, and her mind coldly informed her that she was imagining Jake’s words. Simultaneously her heart cried that she’d heard him correctly.

Torn, Shah could do nothing but watch Jake float in his semiconscious state. The doctors had warned her that it would take a long time for him to become completely conscious after his close brush with death. He would drift in and out of consciousness, muttering and perhaps not very coherent. She held his hand, moving her fingers slowly up and down his forearm, caressing him, letting him know in the silent language of touch how much she loved him.

The door to the private room opened, and she turned her head. A man with neat black hair, wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit, stood hesitantly at the entrance. Shah felt the power around him, met his hard, intelligent gaze, and knew that it must be Morgan Trayhern, Jake’s boss. He was a tall man, powerfully built. Despite the veneer of civilization provided by the expensive clothes he wore, Shah knew him for what he was—a warrior. She offered a slight smile of welcome.

“Mr. Trayhern?” Her voice was charged with emotion, with relief that Jake was going to live.

“Yes.” He entered the room and quietly shut the door behind him, giving her a slight, strained smile. “You must be Shah Travers.” He held out his hand to her.

For a moment, Shah was on guard against Trayhern, but then his eyes thawed, and the same kind of warmth that Jake possessed surrounded her. She released Jake’s hand and turned. “Yes, I’m Shah Sungilo Travers. I’m the one who called you.” She returned to Jake’s side and picked up his hand again. “When they gave me Jake’s clothes and belongings, a business card fell out of his wallet. Your name and phone number were on it. I knew Jake worked for you, and I figured you’d want to know his condition.”

Morgan nodded. “I’m glad you did.” He frowned and moved around to the opposite side of Jake’s bed. His dark brows drew down in worry as he studied his friend. “How is he?”

“Have you talked to his doctors?”

“I don’t speak Portuguese,” Morgan said.

“Oh, of course. Well, he tangled with a wild boar four days ago, as I told you on the phone. The doctors didn’t know at first whether Jake would lose his legs or not. That’s when I called you.” Shah gave a shrug. “I’m sure I must have sounded like a blithering idiot, but I was worried…”

Morgan smiled gently. “You made perfect sense to me on the phone, Shah. I’m just grateful you called.”

“He needs the best medical attention possible,” she went on quickly. “The doctors say he will recover, but I worry…” She bit down on her lower lip, unable to finish.