Finding Dani (Once a Marine, Always a Marine Book 3)

Finding Dani

By: Kori David

Copyright © 2015 by Kori David

ISBN 978-0-9960623-2-9

All rights reserved.

This is an original publication of CoKeA, LLC.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. CoKeA, LLC or the author, does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contact [email protected] for permission.

Printed in the United States of America.

www.KoriDavid.com

Dedication

For my daughter, Jamie, who is a crusader herself and wants to grow up to be a Pediatrician or Pediatric surgeon. Reach for the stars, my love. You can and will be whatever you decide to be.

And for my son, Cole, who has no idea what he wants to be when he decides to grow up. I am so proud of my little boy who is learning so many lessons to become a good, strong, man.

I love you both to the moon and back.

Chapter 1

“It’s a good thing I don’t own a gun,” Dr. Danielle Bordeaux said, as she batted at the Satan-spawned horsefly busily driving her insane.
 

“I think a flyswatter would do the trick,” said Claire Belgarde, the woman sharing Dani’s ‘office.’ “A really big one.”

Dani stopped writing again and glared at the insect. “I’m not sure an Uzi would do the trick on this thing.” She’d been all over the world, but there was something about Africa that seemed to make the flies bigger and more aggressive.

“I thought you were a pacifist?”

Turning back to her writing, Dani decided to ignore that as well as the snicker that came with it. In general, she was, but she harbored a deep hatred of bugs, no matter how many legs or wings they had. Even butterflies weren’t above suspicion.

“Tell me what you miss the most today,” Claire asked.

“Air conditioning,” Dani said with a small smile, knowing she was being distracted. How Claire managed to stay cheerful in the worst circumstances amazed her. She was obnoxiously upbeat.

“Yesterday you missed chocolate the most.”

 
“What was the day before?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Flushing toilets.”

Dani shook her head. Claire had one of those memories—the kind that came in handy most of the time, but could be a destructive weapon when she was pissed.

“What’s the name of this village again?”

Claire stood at the back of the tent, cataloguing slides and samples. She paused and then spelled it out. “I can never pronounce it correctly.”

 
This time the CDC had sent them to a village in south Guinea, Africa, to investigate and eradicate a strand of the Ebola virus that had ravaged the inhabitants of the area. It was day twenty-eight of a thirty day stint; the Ebola was gone, and Dani and her team were ready to go home for some rest. Although the infected had been symptom-free for two weeks, they had lost nearly half the village.

Something Dani couldn’t get past. She was a doctor, damn it. And, ridiculous as it was, and unrealistic, she took each death personally.
 

“I want a real bath. Not a bucket shower, but hot water in an actual tub with bubbles and some chilled white wine. And maybe a hot guy who desperately wants to shave my legs for me,” Claire said.

“That sounds like heaven.”
 

Dani stood to stretch some of the kinks out of her lower back when they heard the yelling. Raw and intense.

Terrified.

All the hair stood up on her arms and her heart rate sped up at the screaming.
What the hell
? She shot a look at her friend and stepped outside.
 

The sun was starting its descent, but the light outside was still good. A small breeze kicked up dust and blew the smell of cooking meat toward her. She hoped to God that it wasn’t more fruit bats. That plague was helping spread Ebola from village to village. Tests had proven that bats from this area tested positive for the virus.

“Dani, we have to go,” Travis Millet panted as he skidded to a stop next to her. He was out of breath from running and sweat dripped from under his bush hat down the sides of his tanned face.

Travis was one of the best contact tracers the CDC employed and had been with Dani and Claire for several deployments now. He had the uncanny ability to find all friends and relatives that may have come into contact with infected patients. Usually within twenty-four hours, which was vital for containment.

“Deep breaths,” she said.

Reaching out, she touched his shoulder as he brought himself under control. Two of the village women stumbled past, knocking into Dani in their haste. She stumbled to the side, but stayed upright. One of the women was crying and the other’s eyes were wide in shock. A child wailed in the distance. Villagers were running in all directions, the panic evident.

“What happened?”

“Rebels from Sierra Leone are crossing the river. They’re looking for the white doctors infecting the people.”

“Oh, shit,” Claire said. “How much time do we have?”

Travis bent over at the waist, with his hands on his hips, still breathing hard. “Not long. We have to leave. Now.”
 

Everything inside was urging her to run. Panic was infectious, but she had to stay calm and rational. “We’ve dealt with this kind of superstition before.”

“Yeah,” Travis huffed. “But this patrol is rogue and convinced we’re the cause of this disease. And they aren’t adverse to some ransom money either.”

“They know we aren’t protected?” Claire questioned.

He nodded, stood, and wiped his face with a red hankie. “I think they might be the ones who attacked the village forty miles from here. Retribution because we helped them as well.”

“Damn it. We need more time.” But she was realistic as well. If they really were bent on harming them, any villager in the way would be collateral damage. And Dani couldn’t live with that.

“Pack up the essentials and leave everything else. We’re out of here.”

Claire spun back toward their office tent. “I’ll get the laptops.”

“I’ll get Anuma and Hailey.” Travis took off again. “We’ll meet you back here and I’ll bring the truck.”

It was up to Dani to find Dr. Graham. A brilliant epidemiologist, he was also temperamental, and a complete tyrant about his work space. Which was why he had a tent to himself at the edge of the village.
 

Dani privately thought he was a narcissist with a God complex, but she was used to working with men like him. Her father was the same way.
 

“Martin?” she called, running toward his tent.
 

“Just a moment,” he called from inside.

There was some rustling and it sounded as if something was slammed shut before the flap opened and Dr. Martin Graham stepped outside. His formerly starched white button down was rumpled, his perfectly pressed pants had lost their crispness, and Martin’s hair had begun to go wild. He looked a bit like a mad scientist, but Dani stifled the urge to smile.

“Time to go, Martin.”

He looked over his glasses at her, his gray eyes alert as he stared down at her. “What kind of trouble?”

“Rebels from Sierra Leone are on their way.”

He waved his hand in the air—the movement impatient. “Things like this have happened before. Let the army deal with it.”

“They would if they were here. But they aren’t, remember? They left yesterday to deal with an attack on a neighboring village.”

Martin took his glasses off and wiped the sweat off his face with his arm. “I can’t leave yet.”

Dani shook her head at him. “We have no choice. Pack what you can carry and be ready as soon as the truck pulls up.” Then she started to turn away but added, “Five minutes, Martin. Or I’ll have Travis and Anuma drag you out if I need to.”

He might be the senior doctor, but she was team leader and would do what was necessary to ensure their survival. That’s what she did. She saved lives. She’d lost too many people in her life and she wasn’t losing anyone else. Even if it was a pain-in-the-ass doctor who expected everyone to bow down to his genius.

***

Damon Dupree played poker the same way he played women—with wild and reckless abandon. The fact that he was playing with three Marines and one very rich civilian only made the take sweeter. “Let’s see ’em, boys.”

And he laid his cards down. Straight flush—to the queen.

“Goddamn it, Shadow. How’d you pull that out?” The lance corporal threw his cards on the table. He’d had a full house. Kings over twos.
 

Not good enough.

The other two Marines didn’t even bother showing their cards, just threw them on the table and pushed back to stand. Damon took all their cash, then looked at the only other civilian at the table. Dr. Gunner Halverson was a government asset sent to Africa because he was working on a cure for Ebola.

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose and peered over his cards at Damon’s straight flush. “Royal straight flush beats a regular straight flush, correct?”

Damon lost his grin. “Yep.”

“Then you’re one lucky bastard tonight,” Gunner said, throwing down his pair of threes.

Damon blew out a breath and collected his winnings. “You had me worried for a second.”

“I’m not sure you have the capability to worry about anything. Maybe I should stop playing poker with you and just empty out the cash in my pockets whenever you come around.”

“That takes all the fun out of introducing you to new things,” Damon said. The lance corporal and two Marines left the tent in disgust. Gunner and Damon were alone.

“I do new things all the time.”

Damon grinned at Gunner’s earnest face. “You never leave that mansion you own.”

“We’re in the middle of Liberia. How much more out of my house do you want me to be?”

“True. You get a pass for this one, but how long were you down in that invention room of yours?”

Gunner’s eyebrows knit together. “It wasn’t that long.”

“You had a beard and looked malnourished.”

“That’s because George can’t cook worth a damn.”

“Well, then, fire him and hire someone who can.”

Damon laughed as Gunner dropped his head into his hands, obscuring his face. “I never wanted a butler in the first place, but he sort of came with the house, so I can’t fire him. I do have him order out quite a bit.”

“He’s old.”

“Too old to find another job. Besides, he loves that house.”

That Gunner referred to the monstrosity in Georgia as a house was amusing. Anything with ten bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, sitting on ten acres of land, should have its own classification. Damon wasn’t sure old George even remembered there were three levels to the house. He’d never seen him attempt the stairs.

“Besides,” Damon continued, “You were in that government ‘think tank’ for almost a year working on coming up with a cure for Ebola. You definitely lost a good thirty pounds that time. You looked pathetic.”

“I was working round the clock,” he said, frowning. “Lot of good that did everyone. They’re not close enough and refuse to think outside the box.”

“Well, that’s why you left and started funding your own experiments to find a workable cure. With government sanction, even. That doesn’t happen for everyone.”

Lance Corporal Hicks stuck his head back inside the tent at that moment. “Call on the SAT phone for you.”

Damon got up at once. “I made you eat something and take a break, so I guess you can go back to your lab now. See you tomorrow, Gunner. Bring more money.”

“You’re a fucking saint, Shadow.”