WAR: Intrusion (50 page)

He sincerely hoped so, because he’d hate to be forced to discipline his most effective team.

The
Republic of the Volta

West Africa

TWO
DAYS LATER, Helen sat by Lachlan’s hospital bed, clutching his hand. He was sleeping comfortably and was in no danger of dying on her, yet she needed the warmth of his hand in hers to stave off the panic skulking at the edges of her awareness.

If not for knowing Lachlan was nearby, that first day when she’d awoken to find herself in the hospital she would have yanked out her IV tubes and run screaming from the building. Each medicinal scent, each beep of electronic monitoring equipment or call over the intercom grated against her nerves and threw her back to the massacre.

Even now she felt her pulse speeding up. Leaning forward, she bent her head close to Lachlan’s, inhaling the masculine scent of him as if it were a drug. In a way it was, since without it to ground her she’d collapse in a bundle of nerves.

Everyone assumed that she’d fainted shortly after escorting Lachlan’s gurney into the hospital because her body had shut down due to shock and blood loss. But the reality was that she’d had such a massive panic attack, she’d blacked out.

She squeezed her eyes shut. God, what if she could never bear to work in a hospital again? She didn’t want to be a woman who everyone looked at with pity because the rebels had stolen her life from her.

“Shh, lass, it’s okay.” Lachlan’s hoarse voice caused her to look up. He gave her an encouraging smile and stroked her cheek with one finger. “Don’t cry now. We’re okay.”

Helen shook her head. “Maybe on the outside,” she whispered. “But I’m broken on the inside. I can barely tolerate being in this hospital. I’m always on the verge of a panic attack and I cringe at the sight of blood.” She wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. “I’m terrified of what that means for my future. If I can’t practice medicine, then who am I? What’s left of me if I’m not a doctor?”

“What’s left is a strong, courageous, intelligent, caring woman. A woman who taught this stubborn Scotsman not to judge all doctors and nurses according to a few bad seeds. A woman who will always strive to help others, no matter what form her work might take or what risk it poses.” He shot a pointed glance at her bandaged shoulder.

She shrugged, even though it tugged uncomfortably on the wound.

“What’s left,” he continued, “is a woman grounded enough in her convictions to stand by them even when it meant healing a man who’d committed such terrible acts.” Lachlan held her gaze and his eyes softened. “You’re the woman who saved my life at great expense to your own.” His hand settled on her hair and he took a deep breath. “You don’t need to stay here with me, Helen. I know that our lives are too different. You’ve experienced the violence that’s a regular part of my world. Plus,” he dipped his chin toward the bandages across his chest, “there’s a strong possibility that I won’t live to an advanced age. My work is just that dangerous.”

“No.” She grabbed his hand. “I…” She licked her lips and started again. “These past few days showed me how narrowly I’d been defining the rules of my world. I focused solely on protecting my reputation because the worst thing I could imagine was to be publicly condemned and shamed with the stigma of my mother’s crimes.” She stroked his fingers. “But that left me little room to react to change.” She gave a shaky laugh. “From the moment I learned about Kwesi’s smuggling, my life became more complex that I could have ever anticipated.” She thought back to the woman she’d been, so protective of the clinic that she’d taken the too-good-to-be-real offer from Mr. Natchaba at face value.

“Inside the operating room, I’ve always been adaptable, because the human body is frequently unpredictable. Yet I failed to apply that principle to the rest of my life. What I’ve learned, what being with you has shown me, is that sometimes violence is justified. Particularly if it’s done to protect the ones we love.”

“Are you saying that you love me, lass?” Hope brightened his eyes from pewter to silver.

“Yes. I do love you.” Somehow, just saying the words made her feel lighter. “And while I’m not happy that I chose to take lives, I have to admit that I would do it again to protect you and Mrs. N’Dorah.”

“That’s my brave doctor.” Lachlan gave her a brilliant smile. “That’s the woman I love.”

He scowled at the tubes and sensors connecting him to the machines next to the bed. “Now, if I wasn’t terrified that by moving I’d set off alarms, I’d haul you up here for a kiss.”

Helen gave him a watery smile. “I can take care of that.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He raised his brows and shot her a look. “That’s not what I meant, lass.”

She widened her smile. “I know. It just feels good to tease you.” This time she gave him a proper kiss on his mouth, but kept it chaste due to his injuries. “Thank you.”

She settled back in her chair.

“No. Thank you, lass. You saved my life in more ways than one. But what I meant before was that if you need to leave the hospital in order to stay sane, I’ll understand.”

Lachlan’s eyes flicked to the extra hospital bed that had been brought in for Helen after his surgery. Her cheeks heated and she ducked her head. She’d cried so hysterically when the nurses had tried to get her to leave Lachlan’s side and return to her own room that they’d had given in and allowed her to remain. “You heard that, huh?”

He nodded. “Some. I was mostly out of it.”

She considered his offer, testing the depths of her fear. Then she shook her head. “Honestly, I think I’d have a much bigger panic attack if I left you behind in the hospital.” She took a shaky breath. “After what happened…” The muscles of her throat tightened and she fought back tears. “A hospital just doesn’t feel like a safe place right now. I’d be terrified of returning to find you…to find you…”

She broke down in a sob, clutching his hand to her chest as she bowed her head.

“Easy, lass. Just let yourself go. I’m here now. I won’t be leaving you any time soon.”

“B-but… You could die on any of your missions.”

“Aye. Just as you could die in a car accident. But I’d fight death itself to get back to you.”

She choked back a sob and glanced up at him, the tears blurring his beloved face. “You already have, haven’t you?”

He gave her a smile that solidified the connection between them into a strong, shiny bond she could almost see. “Aye, we’ve both fought death. Yet here we both are. I’ll bet on us winning future battles.”

She returned his smile by leaning up for a kiss. “You’re right,” she murmured a while later, trying to catch her breath. “We’re both survivors. We prevailed against all odds. Together, we’ll be unbeatable.”

“Together,” he said drowsily. “I like the sound of that.” His eyes drifted shut and a few minutes later he dropped back into sleep.

Helen watched him for a long time, amazed that they’d come so far from their initial suspicion and antagonism. She might not know if she’d ever return to being a trauma surgeon, but she was certain that wherever life took her next, she’d fight to keep Lachlan in her life.

THREE
DAYS LATER, Lachlan and his teammates—including Tony Jacobs who’d insisted on joining them even though he wasn’t completely healed—were sprawled around the living room of a private house. A WAR supporter had donated it for use as a safe house before he’d moved out of the region. Lachlan had been cleared for in-home recovery but not yet for air flight, so instead of returning to WAR headquarters, he would begin his recovery here.

Between Lance, Rene, and Helen, Lachlan had received so much medical attention that they’d nearly completed his desensitization to doctors. Well, at least to those particular doctors. He wasn’t certain he’d ever feel entirely comfortable having an unfamiliar doctor poke and prod at him. But he was certain that he’d no longer panic when it happened.

He glanced around the room, gauging the mood of the lads. Although the stated purpose of this gathering was to discuss the missing weapons, Lachlan had also wanted to see the group as a whole, to judge how they were holding up. Despite Lachlan, Dev, and Kris all arguing with Azumah that the team needed a rest in order deal with the emotional fallout from the Hospital Massacre, Azumah had refused to assign another team to take over the job of rounding up Natchaba’s rebel allies.

Because of that, every one of the lads looked knackered, although Dev appeared the most on edge. He stood with his back braced against the wall, as if he wouldn’t be able to stay vertical otherwise. Small wonder, that. As Lachlan’s second-in-command, Dev had been managing the team while Lachlan was in hospital.

“Before we start this meeting, I need to get something off my chest,” Lachlan said.

The team collectively tensed.

“Some of you have witnessed me losing my temper and crossing the line between necessary and gratuitous force.”

He looked around and saw wary acknowledgement on their faces.

“That’s unacceptable behavior in a leader.”

When the men started to protest, Lachlan held up his hand. “Wait. Let me get the words out. You know that my father was a monster. Not just a child abuser, but a man who so craved violence that he killed nearly two dozen patients over the years.” He took a deep breath. “Some of that darkness lives inside me. I’ve always felt on the edge of losing control. To becoming addicted to inflicting pain as my father was.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dev snapped.

Lachlan nodded. “Aye, it is. But I only recently understood the difference. When I lose control it’s not because I’m craving the rush of hurting someone. It’s because there’s a threat to the ones I love or the ones I’m sworn to protect. I lose control when I’m feeling scared or helpless because I’m afraid I’ll fail to keep those people safe.”

Some of the men nodded.

“I can’t promise that I’ll never, how did Hoss put it…”

“Go berserker on us,” Hoss supplied.

“Aye. I can’t promise that will never happen. But instead of killing Natchaba I pulled back, even though that dark part of me wanted to exact a more physical vengeance. So I think there’s hope for me. And yet…” He shrugged.

“We’ve already told you we’re not letting you step down as leader,” JC pointed out. “So don’t even go there.”

“What he said,” Lars commented.

“Thank you. But Kris might feel differently,” Lachlan said. “He might want someone more stable in charge.”

“Haven’t you learned
anything
yet?” Hoss said, rolling his eyes. “None of us are exactly stable. Join the fucking club.”

“Lachlan has a point, lads,” Dev said. “Kris has the ultimate say, and I think he suspects we’re holding back on him.”

“I don’t suspect it. I know it.” Kris strode in from the hall that led to the kitchen.

“Lordy, look what the cat drug in,” Hoss drawled.

Lachlan blew out a breath and stood up, only wincing a wee bit. Progress. When he’d first woken up in hospital, every breath, every movement for that matter, had hurt no end. “Aye, sir. That’s correct. It was my decision and I’m fully prepared to resign if you don’t approve of my explanation.”

Kris studied the team, which had moved into a protective semi-circle behind Lachlan. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sad half-smile, then he gestured at Lachlan. “Sit back down, you stubborn Scotsman. I’m not here to demand your head. I’m here to make certain that we don’t reach the point where Azumah orders it.”

Lachlan sank into his chair.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” JC said. “But what the fucking hell are you doing out of HQ? I thought there was like some sort of force field that stopped you from leaving.”

“Ha. Ha,” Kris replied, taking a seat to Lachlan’s right. “It just so happens that I have a mission of my own and needed to meet with a few contacts in the capital.” His look dared anyone to comment. For once, JC and Hoss didn’t push him.

“So, Lachlan,” Kris said, shooting a hard stare in his direction. “Tell me what Dev has been leaving out of his reports. And why you thought it best that I be kept in the dark.”

Lachlan nodded and explained about his deal with Morenga. “I’m sorry, sir. It never occurred to me that Morenga would have his own team in place to recover the weapons and miniature explosives his son stole from him.”

“None of us are all-knowing,” Obi said, directing his comment not to Kris, but to Lachlan.

Lachlan held his breath. Ever since killing his former schoolmate, Obi had been even more withdrawn than usual. So much so that Lachlan had urged the man to talk to the psychiatrist who was working with Helen and the other massacre survivors.

Oddly enough, although Obi had started with formal therapy, he also spent a lot of time at the kitchen table talking informally with Helen. To others it might seem an unlikely friendship. The trained sniper and the trauma surgeon. The killer and the healer. Yet their talks seemed to give them both ease.

The air hung with expectancy. As if sensing it, Obi hesitated before continuing. “I believe that even if we had found the cave system on our own, Morenga’s team would have used our assault as cover for their retrieval. If anyone is to blame for Morenga recovering his weapons it is the government forces for not properly securing the perimeter before launching their attack on the rear of the base.”

Lachlan nodded. “However, if I’d considered the possibility, I could have warned the government forces to watch out for Morenga’s men posing as official soldiers.”

Obi shook his head. “The sad reality is that many of the government soldiers are simply not competent. The national governments have made such a rush to fill their militaries that they have not put the men through adequate training before sending them on missions.” The bitterness in his voice revealed the frustration that had led Obi to leave his national army when his tour was up and join WAR.

Kris had been listening to their exchange with a thoughtful look. “The government claims that after they finished setting up their perimeter, they tracked down all the trucks that had escaped.”