Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (7 page)

The young soldier winced. “Come on, Cap, Grin? Like I’m a stupid clown or something?”

Joshua chuckled again and slapped him on the shoulder as they entered the safe room. Farrah immediately looked for Kyle. The men had placed his stretcher on top of a couple of storage boxes pushed together. He was looking in her direction when she entered the room, eyes fever bright. He lifted an arm, reaching for her. She focused on his hand, blocking out everything else; the walls, the dim light, the crowd of men who seemed to take up every inch of space. Taking his hand, she whispered, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Which was half a lie. It was very much not okay. She could still feel the weight of the sand and dirt pressing all around them, enclosing them, suffocating them. She tried to take a deep, calming breath, anything to loosen the sudden tightness in her chest. Even as her lungs told her there was no air, she knew it was ridiculous. From what she’d been told, the little room was well ventilated. There should have been—
there was
—plenty of air to breath. Only her body didn’t agree with her brain.

Kyle squeezed her hand. “Look at me!” he growled. “Breathe, Farrah. That’s an order!”

An order? Farrah drew in a harsh breath on a laugh damp with tears. Trust Kyle Fagan to think ordering her to do something was going to work. His struggle to sit up did what his words couldn’t, focusing her attention on him instead of the false sense of suffocation. “Stop that.” Other concerned hands joined hers in pushing him back down. Bodies crowded close. Too close. “Would you all please step back,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “My patient needs air.”

“At ease, everyone. She’s got this.” Joshua’s rough command came on top of her request.

The other men quickly stepped away. Farrah sucked in a steadying breath and met Kyle’s pain-filled gaze. “Now you stay there,” she ordered, brushing sweat dampened hair off his forehead. “If you tear any of those stitches, I’ll have your hide. And I’ve got just the scalpel to do the job.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The weakness of his reply—when he’d sounded so strong a few seconds earlier—had her worried. “No more talking,” she said, lifting the edge of the light blanket covering him to check his bandages for any sign of fresh bleeding. “You need to rest.”

His fingers brushed her arm, sending a rush of unexpected chill bumps across her skin. She stifled a shiver as he said, “So do you. You’ve been up half the night.”

“I’ll grab a cat-nap in a bit.” She took his hand and tucked his arm back under the covers. Though the sun was well into heating the city above, the air in the little underground room was cool. Kyle nodded his head and closed his eyes. She saw him swallow hard.

“Would you like a sip of water?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just to wash the sand out of my mouth. Stomach isn’t too happy with me right now.”

“Probably a reaction to the anesthesia. Hang on.” She walked over to a small table tucked in a corner. “Excuse me,” she said to the man she’d taken for an Egyptian native earlier. He grinned at her and slid to the side, giving her access to the table. She opened her lab coat and started pulling out the bundled food. As soon as she set out the small covered bowl, the man beside her leaned over and sniffed. “Is that fuul?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. And bread and fruit and a few honey rolls I snatched at breakfast. I thought you guys would like something fresh.” The man moaned dramatically and dropped to his knees.

“Ah, sweet lady, for fuul and fresh bread, I am your slave for life.”

Another man slipped up beside her, his big body crowding her a bit. She started to ask him to back off, but the little-boy smile he turned on her melted her heart.

“Did I hear you say you had some honey rolls, ma’am? I do like honey rolls.”

“Of course,” she said laying the last of the food on the table. “Just let me get some water for Kyle and you guys can have at it.” She reached down to the box tucked under the table and retrieved a couple of bottles. Then she left the corner, biting back a smile at the quiet, but intense feeding frenzy going on behind her. She handed Joshua a bottle and cracked the other one for Kyle. “You’re going to miss out if you don’t hurry,” she told Joshua.

“I’m fine.” His gaze swept over her. “I thought you felt a little lumpy earlier. Thank you for the food.”

She twisted her lips. “Yes, well, if I’d had more time to think about it,” she said, slipping an arm under Kyle’s head so he could drink, “you and your men might have had to settle for the granola bars and jerky stored down here. The terrorists were searching everyone pretty thoroughly right before I got away.”

“You shouldn’t have taken the chance,” Kyle said between sips.

“Hush and drink.” She tipped the bottle against his lips, practically forcing him to open his mouth. He managed about three more small sips, pausing between each one to swish the water around before swallowing. When he nodded that he was through, she eased him back down. She smoothed back his hair again, noting the heat coming off his skin. “How’s the pain?”

He closed his eyes. “Manageable.”

“Tough guy, huh?” She moved to another storage box and rooted inside, pulling out a small vial of morphine and a syringe.

“No,” Kyle said, seeing the needle. “No drugs. When we move, I need to be conscious.”

Farrah huffed quietly, not pausing in prepping the shot. “When you’re moved you should be sedated up to your gills, but I have no doubt that won’t happen. As it is, you can’t lay there in pain for hours. It’ll cause too much stress on your body.” She pressed a couple of fingers to his lips when he started to speak again, and looked to Joshua. “When do you have to leave here?”

“Not for at least fourteen hours. That’ll give us plenty of time to make the pickup zone by midnight.”

“Where’s the pickup zone?”

When Joshua hesitated, Farrah lowered her gaze and concentrated on filling the syringe. A small knot of hurt curdled the coffee in her stomach that she’d had at breakfast. He didn’t trust her. She could understand—he had more lives to consider than just his and Kyle’s—but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. She held up the filled syringe. “Don’t worry,” she told Kyle. “This will help you rest now and should wear off in about four to six hours. Okay?”

At his nod she swabbed the intake on his IV line with alcohol before slowly injecting the morphine. She stood quietly as the drug took hold. Her own tension eased as the tight muscles in Kyle’s face relaxed. Fingers brushed her arm again. Joshua’s touch, warm and comforting, the touch of a dear friend. No goose bumps danced over her skin this time. Seemed those were reserved just for Kyle, she noted wryly, a man who had never shown the slightest interest in her.

“Sorry,” Joshua said when she met his gaze. “Secrecy is a habit, Farrah. It’s what keeps us alive most days. The chopper is picking us up about six miles outside the city. Normally it wouldn’t take us four hours to cover that distance, but with packing out Kyle—”

“What do you mean by packing him out?” She couldn’t have heard him right.

“Just what I said. We’ll have to carry him. Don’t worry, we’ll keep him on the stretcher as long as possible. Even I know that’s better for him than a fireman’s carry, considering his condition.”

“A fireman’s—Joshua, have you lost your mind?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down when she wanted to yell at him. “You can’t carry Kyle anywhere. Not in his condition, as you so succinctly put it.”

“Farrah—”

“No, Joshua, you aren’t listening. You can’t move him six miles on foot, in the dark, dodging patrols or police or whoever. It’s just too dangerous.”

“And leaving him here isn’t? Look, Farrah, I know you’re worried about him. So am I. But he needs more medical attention than we’ve safely got here. Even if you were able to transfer him to a civilian hospital to get that attention, the terrorists probably have all medical facilities monitored by now. They’ll find him. We’re not leaving him behind.”

She pointed to Kyle’s leg. “You don’t think I know he needs more help than I can give him? That limb has to be kept as stable as possible so better qualified surgeons can fix it. Bouncing him all over the place on a flimsy stretcher is not what I call keeping it stable.”

“It will have to be enough.”

“No, it won’t. I can take you all in a vehicle.”

His expression hardened into one she rarely saw. This was the soldier he’d become. Not just her friend, but a man trained in the art of war. “No, absolutely not. You’ve done enough. If Kyle’s life wasn’t on the line, we wouldn’t even be here. Fourteen hours and we’re gone. The sooner we leave you alone, the less danger you’ll be in.”

The coldness in his voice made her want to back down, but she couldn’t do that. Like he said, Kyle’s life was on the line. “Stop being so stubborn, Joshua. I won’t be in any danger. We can go out through the tunnel to the garage without anyone seeing us. I can transport you all in the clinic’s ambulance. It’ll be tight, but the ambulance is a converted van, so everyone should fit.” He opened his mouth and she rushed on to cut him off. “If we turn the emergency lights on, everyone will think twice about stopping us. You won’t have to hide from the military or the police, and Kyle will get a smooth ride.” She saw his jaw tighten, could almost hear his teeth grinding together. Joshua had always hated giving in to anyone.

Finally, he blew out a long breath, one hand coming up to rub across his face. “There’d be more room if you stayed here.”

Farrah crossed her arms, letting him see her determination. “I can’t. Physician’s oath, remember? Kyle’s my patient. He’s my responsibility until another doctor takes over his care. Will there be a doctor on the helicopter that picks you up?”

Joshua nodded. “They know he’s critical, so yes, they’ll send a doc. Gage can watch him between here and there.”

“From what I’ve seen, Gage is a great medic, but he’s not a surgeon.” She glanced at the blond-haired soldier standing by the door, munching on a sweet roll. “No offence intended.”

“None taken ma’am. I know my limitations.” His sharp blue eyes looked over her head at Joshua. “That artery blows, I won’t be able to fix it, boss. Stitch could, but he’s out of commission.”

A long moment of silence passed. “Fine.” Joshua glared down at her. “Just so you know, if there’s so much as a hint of hostiles within a mile of P3, me and the guys are gone. We’ll finish on foot and you’ll get yourself back here in one piece.”

“But—”

“No buts, Farrah.” He pointed a finger at Kyle’s sleeping figure. “I’m going to catch hell from him for involving you as it is. You get hurt in this, and I won’t have to worry about having a retirement plan. That man will gut me in my sleep, and I wouldn’t blame him a damn bit.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“But true. So you’ll do what I tell you when I tell you, for both our sakes. Agreed?”

Farrah held his dark gaze for several seconds, but knew she’d already lost on this point. “Agreed,” she said finally. Even though she didn’t agree at all. The idea of these men carrying Kyle over rough ground—while possibly dodging bullets—scared her to death. Too much could go wrong. A stitch could slip or a weak part of the damaged artery give way. A bone splinter could shift a millimeter too far, causing more damage. Worse, a blood clot could develop, shooting straight to Kyle’s heart or lung, snuffing out his life before she, or anyone else, could do a darn thing.

No, if she had her way, Kyle Fagan wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

****

Farrah dozed, her head resting on the edge of Kyle’s stretcher, when the creaking of the stairs drew her eyes open. The first thing she saw was Joshua and one of his men, deep in a whispered conversation. From the look on their faces, something was wrong.

Joshua glanced up, met her gaze, then said sharply, “Gear up, Hawks. We’re moving out now.”

Farrah glanced at her watch as the men who’d been dozing where they sat immediately roused. Barely four hours had passed since she’d incarcerated herself with the soldiers. It was broad daylight outside.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Around her, the men silently gathered packs and checked weapons. The medic, Gage, began wrapping some kind of long strap around Kyle, securing him to the stretcher. “Joshua?”

He motioned to the man who had come down the steps. “Rashid had his ear to the door, listening for trouble. He heard someone arguing and caught the words
secret room
.”

“That’s not possible. Dr. Couruy and the others would never reveal this room’s location.”

“Why not? If the terrorists have invaded the clinic like you said, the others might say anything to save their lives. Especially if they thought this room was empty.”

“Or they might be headed down here themselves to escape the bad guys,” said the big, dark-skinned man the others called Brick.

Farrah nodded. That she could believe. She’d been a fool to think no one else would look to the room for safety. But then, she hadn’t counted on the terrorists being so persistent. Dear God, she’d led these men right into a trap.

“I jammed the hinges on the trap door,” Rashid said. “But there’s no telling how long it will hold. We need to leave pronto, Cap.”

“Right,” Joshua said, “Dell, you and Ty take point. Brick, Gage, you two are on stretcher duty. Farrah, stay close to them. Sam, you’re in charge of Waterhouse. Rash and I will bring up the rear.” His gaze stopped on her. “Farrah, you said the tunnel comes out in a garage. Is it enclosed? Is the clinic’s ambulance inside?”

“Yes, to both. Assuming the garage is still empty, we should be able to load up without anyone seeing us. I can open the garage door after everyone is in the van.”

“Good. We’ll have to move fast. They may already have men on the way to block the exit. Let’s go.”

Farrah grabbed the bag of supplies she’d filled earlier, slipping the wide strap over her head and shoulder to free her arms. She followed the others into the long, dark tunnel, only vaguely conscious of the claustrophobia that normally paralyzed her. Too much adrenaline, she thought, trying to distract herself. Why worry about a little claustrophobia when she could have someone shooting at her at any second.