Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (12 page)

She wasn’t hungry. Not really. But Cathy knew if she was eating solid food again, York would probably let her off the IV and she could feel like a person again instead of a walking medical miracle of tubes.

“I smelled chicken soup being made in the galley as I passed it,” a male voice volunteered.

Cathy’s eyes widened. She saw Jim Boland ambling down the aisle toward them. The smile on his mouth made her feel warm. And good. He had a kind face when he smiled, she thought. And a hard face when he did not. Boland was a genuine enigma, Cathy conceded. And she had a lot of questions to ask him.

“Young, if it’s good chicken soup, I’ll have a bowl. All right?”

The medic nodded deferentially to the approaching officer and then grinned widely at Cathy. “Sure ’nuf, Corporal! I’ll be right back,” and he politely excused himself.

Cathy watched Boland take the folding chair from the wall and bring it up to her cot. For no explainable reason, he lifted her spirits. He sat down, his gray eyes warm with welcome.

“You look a hundred percent better,” he said, meaning it.

“Except for my rear,” she muttered. “I suppose you saw that whole drama.”

His smile grew. “Can’t lie, I did. Actually, I was betting that you were going to talk him out of giving you the shot.”

Cathy laughed. God, it actually felt good to laugh again. How long had it been? No one laughed over at Delta. She sobered, holding his gaze. “Young said you’re a paramedic, Captain. He also told me that you saved my life and for that I want to thank you.” She managed a weak smile. “Lately, not that many people want to see me alive, but it’s nice to know someone cared when the chips were really down.”

He felt a warm flush crawling up his neck into his face. Jim cleared his throat. “I’d do it for anyone.” And then he amended it with a crooked smile of his own. “The fact you were pretty didn’t hurt, either.”

Her, pretty? Cathy blinked once. She was at best an ugly duckling. Before she could say anything, she saw him dig out a small plastic bottle of hand lotion from his back pocket.

“Here, this is for you. Don’t let Young see it or he’ll think you walked down to Supply and swiped it.”

Shyly, Cathy held the bottle in her one hand. “Hand lotion. I can’t believe it. Lane would never let us have any. I don’t know what to say, Captain.” And then her face grew scarlet. “I’m not used to so many people doing so many nice things for me. Thank you….”

Jim was moved by her sudden shyness and the fact that she clutched the bottle to her as if it were a treasure.

“You deserve it” was all he could muster, elated by her response.

Cathy lifted her head, a smile crossing her lips. “This is like Christmas. First, the hand lotion and then I get some hot food.” She slowly brought herself into a sitting position, wincing as she sat on the still-tender cheek. Running her hands in a caressing motion along the plastic bottle, she cast a suspicious look over at Boland. “Captain, what’s going on here? Why am I here in the rear when I should be over at Delta? And why isn’t Ingram here instead of you? I don’t understand.”

“I’m the lesser of two evils, maybe?”

Cathy stared at the bottle, refusing to be drawn into his teasing banter. She pursed her cracked lips. “I was too sick yesterday and this morning to realize it, but something’s going on. I can feel it.”

Jim shifted restlessly in the chair, groping for the right words. He clasped his hands between his thighs and explained the chain of events, purposely avoiding the fact that Lane had signed her over to Alpha. In his estimation, Cathy wasn’t emotionally ready to handle that information. As he finished the explanation, he saw a shadow cross her mobile features that she tried so hard to keep impassive. Did Cathy realize that he could see every fleeting nuance of feeling reflected in those emerald-colored eyes of hers?

Cathy gnawed on her lower lip. “How long will I be here, Captain?”

“I was going to talk to Dr. York later and find out.”

She cast him a quick look. Boland was easygoing, as if little would ever ruffle the surface of that personality of his. And more than anything Cathy needed a confidant, someone she could talk to. “W-would you mind if some of my friends came and visited me?”

Jim grimaced, remembering Ingram’s orders. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible.” When he saw the crushed look on her face, he added, “Captain Ingram won’t allow anyone out of Delta’s territory.” He saw the utter abandonment in her eyes until she quickly lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see how she felt.

“Does anyone know I’m over here?” The question came out as little more than a strained whisper. She knew Lisa and Penny cared what happened to her. And the women of her squad would, too. But what lies was Ingram concocting to make her look bad?

“I don’t know…my hands are tied on this, Cathy. If I could do something about it, I would.”

She warmed immediately when he used her first name. Caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, Cathy forgot he was an officer and she was enlisted and the two didn’t mix in the military’s eyes.

“I know you would,” she murmured, running her slender fingers marred with many pink scars, down across the bottle of lotion. And then she forced a partial smile for his benefit. “It’s okay. I’m used to being alone. It’s no different this time. I’ll survive.”

He kept his anger carefully closeted. “It’s the nature of your survival that interests me,” Jim told her slowly, catching her startled look.

“Why should you care? You got roped into babysitting me. You’re not even my commanding officer.”

“I care about all my people the same way. Just because you’re not from Alpha doesn’t make any difference.”

“I see.” And then she took a deep breath and forced it out. “What about Sergeant Thatcher? Is she going to be all right?”

Boland avoided her anxious gaze. “I’m sorry. Major Lane said she died at the Bangkok hospital.”

A chill swept through Cathy. Lane would blame her for Thatcher’s death. Had her report and the fire team leader’s report differed from one another? Had she noted that Cathy had held a knife to Thatcher’s throat? It was only a matter of time, she thought in despair. Lane would make her pay for Thatcher’s death.

Young came strolling back with a bowl of steaming soup on a tray. “Here you go, Corporal! Not only did I find that mama hen cook, I had her put some wings in for you to chew on.”

Cathy was grateful for Young’s efforts and tried to put Thatcher’s death aside. He set the tray across her lap.

“Hey, guess who I saw down there? Doc York. And he gave me permission to take out your IV.” He wagged his long finger in her face. “Only if you promised to eat
all
the soup. Will you?”

Jim got up, moving out of the way so the cajoling medic could retrieve the IV. He watched Cathy’s expression closely. She was trying so hard to cover up her disappointment and respond to Young’s good-natured teasing.

He finally coaxed a sad smile from her before he left. As he reached the door, Young glanced back at him.

“Cap’n, if she needs some help…”

“I’ve spoon-fed a few people,” Boland assured him.

Cathy kept the tray balanced across her blanketed lap, picking up the spoon. “I’ll be fine,” she assured them both, watching Young disappear down the corridor.

Jim sat back, watching her fingers tremble as she lifted the rich, fragrant broth from the bowl. Her weakness tore at him as she forced herself to eat. He rose, giving her a smile.

“Look, I’ve got to get back to my outfit. I just wanted to drop over and see how you were coming along.”

Cathy lifted her head, thinking Boland was much taller than she had first realized. “I—thanks…for everything, Captain. I know you’re busy and I appreciate your coming to check on me….”

He pulled the cap from his rear pocket, settling it on his head, the bill pulled low across his eyes. Cathy was looking as if she had lost her last friend in the world. “This isn’t goodbye, you know. I’m going to have our scrounger, Gomez, try and scare up some reading material for you while you’re back here.” His eyes warmed as he saw Cathy’s expression relax. “Although, I can’t guarantee you
what
he’ll scrounge up. Knowing him, it could be X-rated.”

A wobbly smile touched her lips. “This is like a dream….”

Perplexed, Jim settled his long, strong-looking hands on his narrow hips.

“What is?”

“You,” she whispered. “You’re so kind….”

After talking at length with Dr. York, Jim left the medical facility and couldn’t erase the image of Cathy’s teary eyes. And her words cut through him like a razor-honed Ka-Bar: “You’re so kind….” Sure he was—he was deliberately manipulating her like plastic putty for his own purpose. So much for kindness.

As he drove back to Alpha, he clung to the only positive thread in the whole complicated plan: at least he had wrangled Cathy a forty-day reprieve. And with any luck, he could help her gather her fragile, pulverized emotions so that she could endure the last couple of months with the WLF in Thailand. Tomorrow would come too quickly. Boland found himself wishing it was already here. He wanted to see Cathy again.

THE SOUND OF boots echoing hollowly down the corridor and coming in her direction made Cathy stir and she opened her eyes. It was near midnight. Boland came out of the shadows, his square face impassive until he saw her. Her heart leaped to pounding life and an incredible surge of joy nearly took her breath away. He had come back! Boland had come even though he didn’t have to.

She had lain awake for a long time thinking about the Marine Recon captain. He owed her nothing; after all, it was he who had saved her life.

“Hi,” Jim greeted, taking off his cap. “How you feeling?” He grasped the chair and sat down. Cathy had more color in her cheeks, just as Young had promised. Her eyes were clear and he saw a spark of life in them. She struggled into a sitting position, smoothing the sheet across her legs.

“I think I scared the hell out of Young earlier tonight,” she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “I had a nightmare about that last firefight I was in. I went lunging for the floor when the mortar rounds started.” She touched her hair, wishing badly for a comb and knowing she must look a mess to him. His answering smile warmed the coldness that always inhabited her. “He came and picked me up off the floor. I was trying to get under the cot.”

Jim nodded. “You always worry about others first and yourself last?” he teased, placing the sack on the deck next to his chair.

Cathy nodded. “Second nature, sir. Up until recently, I was a squad leader. My people came first, last and always. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Another commendable trait of yours,” Jim said, meaning it. “Here—something for you…” He picked up the sack and held it out to her.

Her eyes widened and she took the huge bag, grappling with it, her arms still too weak. Boland stood up and settled it across her lap.

“What’s in here?” she asked, excitement charging her husky voice.

Cathy’s voice was stronger. “I told Gomez we had a beautiful swan in the rear recovering from sunstroke and, of course, he outdid himself. Go on, take a look. It’s all yours.” Jim sat back, crossing his arms, taking delight in her radiant expression as she carefully opened the parcel.

For the next ten minutes, she was a child at Christmas. Her eyes got saucer wide as she drew a brush from the sack. She quickly tamed her shining hair into a semblance of order. Gomez had also found her a number of toiletry articles, among them lipstick, blusher, pancake makeup and a bottle of expensive Giorgio perfume. Jim wasn’t sure she’d even use them, but it was the thought that counted. Cathy was indeed a feminine woman who deserved to be recognized as one, despite circumstances. If nothing else, it boosted her ego, because she laughed, nervously touching the articles.

“I can’t wear any of this, but it’s wonderful that Gomez got it.”

“Why not wear it?”

“The odor. You can smell makeup, you know. And a good point for the LA would smell me coming a quarter of a mile away with this stuff on.”

“Oh.” He’d never thought of it from that angle, but she was right.

Cathy tilted her head, hearing his disappointment. “It’s all right. Just getting to see these things again makes me feel human! I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to be a woman.”

“Believe me, you’re a woman.”

She hesitated, her hands frozen in midair at his husky inference. Her throat grew dry and Cathy avoided Boland’s dark, unreadable gaze. The man was affecting her like a heady wine, and she was unaccustomed to allowing anyone to reach her like that. Maybe it was because she was ill; Cathy wasn’t sure. But his tone reverberated through her and she languished in that wonderful out-of-time moment beneath his caressing compliment. She managed a half smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, continuing to dig in the sack again.

Gomez had not only gotten her magazines, but there were newspapers from the major cities in the U.S. as well as paperback books.

Jim grinned as she studied each paperback. “I ordered Gomez to take out the more embarrassing titles.”

Cathy felt heat stealing into her face. “Look, this is a recent edition of the
New York Times
. And this—
Time
magazine.” She rummaged through all the treasures, over half her cot smothered in reading material and she gave Jim a helpless glance. “I owe you so much…all of you. You and your men have been wonderful….”

Jim winced internally. Glancing at his watch, he reluctantly stood. “That supply chopper is going to be taking off soon and I’ve got to make it to the landing zone or I’ll be stranded here all night.” He smiled down at her. “Not that I’d mind, but you need your beauty sleep. Good night, Cathy.”

She watched Boland turn, his shoulders broad and capable beneath the worn flak jacket, the bronze of his well-muscled arms gleaming in the low light. “Wait,” she called, holding out her hand.

Jim turned, thinking she looked incredibly fragile in that shadowy light.

“Yes?”

“Will I—I mean, will I see you again?”

He gave a lazy shrug with a crooked smile to match. “Bad habit of mine. I always check up on my people. Yeah, I’ll be back when I can. You just get plenty of rest, let Young pamper you, and get better. That’s an order.”