WAR: Intrusion (19 page)

“Did you inflict pain on that man in order to get information from him?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Aye,” he gritted out. “But—”

“Then you engaged in torture. End of story.” Grasping at the fraying edges of her temper, she added, “My boss and I agreed that the clinic will remained closed for a few days. Tomorrow morning I’m going to offer my temporary services to the hospital in the regional capital. If they’ll take me. It’s been hard enough earning people’s trust having a murderer for a mother. Now that I’m tied to torture?” She shook her head, impotent fury making her nauseous. “It’s possible that I won’t be allowed to work in medicine again.”

“That makes no sense. You’re a skilled trauma surgeon. Why would this—”

“Because it’s all about trust! Don’t you get that? I’ve been tied to torture. Who in their right mind would ever let me touch them, knowing that?”

MacKay’s face froze in shock.

“Oh. That’s right. You don’t understand because you don’t trust doctors, do you? You think people come to me for treatment because they have to, not because they trust me.”

A muscle ticked along his jaw.

Helen wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. Better that than to allow despair to take over again. But as her throat muscles tightened up, she knew tears were imminent. “You know what? We’re done.” She waved toward the door. “Go back to the clinic. You and Jacobs can have full run of it for as long as you like. I don’t care. I sincerely doubt I’ll be reopening it any time soon.”

“Ah, lass…” He stepped toward her, sounding almost sympathetic.

“No. Just shut up. I have nothing more to say to you.” She took a deep breath, fighting to hold back the tears. “Please. Just leave.”

He studied her a moment. She had no idea what showed on her face, but he looked at her with sympathy. Or maybe it was pity. After all, she’d just admitted that she was likely out of a job.

To her relief, though, he gave her a nod and bent to pull on his socks and boots. A few moments later, the door shut behind him. Once he’d gone, Helen put the dishes into the courtyard to let the rain rinse them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. All she wanted to do was heal people. To make a positive difference. But between being repeatedly smeared by her mother’s crimes, and being tainted by today’s events, once again she found herself on the brink of losing her career.

She swiped at the tears and lifted her chin. Medicine was her life. Her passion. She’d fight for as long as it took to restore her reputation and return to saving lives.

LACHLAN
SLOGGED DOWN the muddy road toward the clinic. Was Dr. Kirk right? Was he too inclined to use violence to resolve a situation?

Am I turning into my father?

No. He wouldn’t accept that. His father had let his frustration and anger at the world build inside him until he had to expunge his emotions by killing one of his patients or by beating the holy hell out of Lachlan. His father’s victims had been innocent. He’d chosen them on nothing more than proximity.

Lachlan was trained to use violence against other violent people. The people he went up against could not claim innocence. David and the other villagers had caught their prisoner planting explosives, proving his guilt. The villagers had been under threat. Lachlan’s use of violence hadn’t been personal. It had been the tool he’d chosen to achieve his mission.

Of course, Helen’s response to that would be along the lines of “What about respecting human rights?”

But she didn’t understand what it was like to have the weight of innocent lives balanced on your actions. She didn’t understand the harsh reality of his world. If she did, she wouldn’t judge him so harshly.

Yanking his hat farther down on his forehead, he scowled at the torrential rain. Still, despite knowing his actions had been justified, he sympathized with Dr. Kirk. The truth was, he hadn’t considered the implications of his actions beyond what he’d seen as the immediate goal of protecting the villagers. His missions were usually straightforward. Stop the bad guys. Or, when he’d been on hostage rescue teams, rescue the victims. Simple. Targeted.

He wasn’t used to dealing with the repercussions of his actions in the civilian world. If there had been wider effects from his missions, he didn’t know about them.

It had never occurred to him that his actions might threaten Dr. Kirk’s career. That what he had done would stain the clinic’s reputation and result in the clinic being closed. She’d hit a little too close to home with her comment about trust, so he tried to think about the situation from a different perspective.

If Helen had been the one doing the torturing, Lachlan would say of course someone like Sisi’s mother wouldn’t trust Dr. Kirk with her child. But Helen couldn’t be held accountable for his actions. She’d protested and he’d kicked her out. Surely once people heard the truth they’d realize that Dr. Kirk still deserved their trust.

Still, if he’d known that torturing David’s prisoner would lead to the villagers losing their access to quality health care and Dr. Kirk losing her job and her reputation, would he have made the same decision? He blew out his breath.

Aye, most likely he would have. Lives came before careers. And even if the clinic was forced to shut down, at least the villagers were alive. That was most important.

Wasn’t it?

Yes. Of course it was. Because if you were alive, then there was always hope that you could improve your situation. He was living proof of that.

Right. Enough brooding.

Rather than head straight to the clinic, Lachlan made a quick patrol of the area in order to make certain no troublemakers were braving the weather. Lights blazed from the communal kitchen in the village. The faint beat of drums carried over the sound of the rain. As he’d expected, he didn’t spot anyone out and about.

When at last he turned toward the clinic, his thoughts returned to Helen. He’d never met a woman who caused him such grief or who was so difficult to figure out. Talking with Helen was harder than picking his way through a field planted with hidden land mines. Even when he didn’t intend to offend, he managed to do so. Yet their antagonism had no effect on the low-level buzz of attraction he felt every time he was near her. Attraction that now had no hope in hell of ever being explored.

He shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about Helen or regretting that he always managed to upset her. He needed to focus his attention on finding Natchaba, stopping future attacks, and locating the smuggled weapons. Whether Helen liked him or not was irrelevant.

Yet he found himself unable to stop thinking about her, as obsessed as a teenage boy with his first crush.

When the clinic came into view, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

“How’d it go?” Tony asked after he’d let Lachlan in.

“Worse than I expected,” Lachlan grumbled. He explained about Helen’s fears for her career and the fate of the clinic.

“Christ. I hadn’t thought of that.” Tony paused. “I wasn’t comfortable with what you did, but I agree that there wasn’t a better choice.

Lachlan gave a nod of thanks.

“Did you have a chance to explain to her about coming with us to the capital tomorrow?” Tony asked.

“No.” Their discussion had veered out of control too quickly. “I’m certain she’ll see reason once her temper has cooled.”

“You’d best hope so, Commander. Since you’re the least wounded, you’re the one who will have to force her if she refuses to cooperate.”

“All right, lad, you’ve made your point.” Lachlan then explained that he’d seen nothing suspicious in his most recent patrol around the village. “I’m going to spend the night at Dr. Kirk’s compound, in case David and his friends decide to retaliate against her. Do you have anything to report?”

“Negative. Been quiet as a church mouse here.”

“Right, then. I’m off.” Lachlan headed back outside. The lights were out at Helen’s bungalow, so he used his torch to guide him to the door of the storage room. With the sound of the storm, she wouldn’t hear him. Still, he refused to hide his presence. So he lit the kerosene lantern at the side of his bed, not caring if she looked outside and realized that he hadn’t retreated with his tail between his legs.

As he peeled out of his wet clothes, he realized that in truth, he’d welcome another confrontation. He enjoyed fighting with her.

Careful of his wounds, he rubbed his towel over his wet skin, then donned dry clothes.

He had come to like her. She was intelligent, caring, and hard-working. He respected the fact that she wasn’t afraid to argue with him. Now that he’d decided she wasn’t guilty of the weapons smuggling, he wouldn’t mind being friends with her.

It’s not just friends you’re wanting to be, is it now?

Well, there you had it. The elephant in the room. He picked up his discarded towel from the bed and hurled it into the corner. He didn’t want to find Helen so attractive, but he did. And not just because she was pleasing to the eye. He liked her fire. Liked the way she wasn’t afraid to stand up for her convictions. Her passion in the face of David and the angry crowd had turned Lachlan on. Nothing was sexier than a strong woman.

He climbed into the bed Helen had set up for husbands of women who came to her bungalow after clinic hours to give birth. Would Helen show that same fire during sex?

Based on their one kiss, he suspected the answer to that question was a resounding yes.

Yet due to their very powerful differences of opinion, the prospect of even being friends with her seemed nil. Which was a pity. He couldn’t remember the last person who’d so challenged his beliefs. Who’d forced him to look at the world from a new perspective.

He respected Helen, but he wouldn’t change who he was for her.

And that meant there could be no future for them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHEN
LACHLAN AWOKE before dawn the next morning, the clouds had cleared. He had just finished washing his face at the outside tap when Helen opened the bungalow door. She spotted him through the screen door, glanced down at her short sleep shirt, then slammed the door shut.

Lachlan returned to drying his face. A few moments later, Helen stomped out of the bungalow wearing trousers and a sweatshirt. Ignoring him, she made a beeline for the bathroom. He let her have her privacy, but when she marched back toward the bungalow door, he stepped into her path.

“Good morning, doctor.”

She glared up at him. “Not so good anymore,” she grumbled. “What do you want now?”

He sighed, but didn’t voice his protest. After all, she was right. He wasn’t here just to be social. “I forgot to mention one wee thing during our conversation last night.”

She stepped back and regarded him warily. “What?”

“I need you to accompany me to New Accra today to work with a sketch artist on an image of Natchaba.”

“Why? I’m already planning on going to the hospital in the regional capital. Why can’t I work with a sketch artist there?”

“Because there’s only one sketch artist, and government feels that with the recent attacks it’s too dangerous for her to leave the safety of the national capital. Plus…” He cleared his throat. “The man we questioned admitted that Natchaba ordered that the villages and the clinic be destroyed, and that all of the foreigners, you in particular, be killed. The government won’t risk their artist traveling to an area under such an imminent threat.”

Helen stared at him in shock, then gave a harsh laugh. “Now isn’t that just perfect? Even if my reputation survives and we reopen the clinic, we’ll have to deal with the potential of an attack coming at any time.”

“I’m sorry, doctor.”

She shrugged and glanced away. Seeing the flash of fear and dismay on her face, Lachlan fought the urge to pull her into his arms.

“The best way you can protect your clinic is to work with the sketch artist. We believe Sani Natchaba is an assumed identity. Having a picture we can distribute will help us find him and stop him before he attacks again.”

Helen narrowed her eyes. “How are you planning on reaching New Accra? The trip is a minimum of four hours by private vehicle.”

“By helicopter.”

She blinked in surprise. “So, when is this helicopter scheduled to arrive?”

“I’m still waiting for an exact time, but we expect to leave early this afternoon.”

“Great. I have time to drive to the regional capital and help out for a few hours, assuming the hospital administrator is willing. I’ll be back before your ride gets here.”

“Have you no concern for your own safety? Even after hearing that you’re a target, you still expect me to let you drive off on your own?” Lachlan shook his head. “Not bloody likely. I’ll be accompanying you wherever you go today.”

“Fine.” Helen dodged around him and slipped into the bungalow.

Lachlan stared after her. Well, now, that had gone better than he’d expected. He considered it a victory that she hadn’t yelled at him or slammed the door in his face.

When she emerged from her bungalow four minutes later carrying her medical bag, he said, “I want to be perfectly clear. You agree to accompany us to the national capital without a fight?”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Yes, of course. I want Natchaba caught as much as anyone. After all,” she added with a note of bitterness, “didn’t you just point out that it’s in my best interest to stop him?”

Damn it, he’d done it again. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

She held up her hand. “Never mind. We don’t have time to rehash this argument yet again.” She pulled out her keys, locked the bungalow, then strode toward the clinic. “Let’s retrieve the SUV and hit the road. I hate to use a vehicle given to me by a murderer, but the pickup truck is too slow.”

When they arrived at the clinic, Tony came out to meet them. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?” he asked after Lachlan explained Helen’s plan.

Lachlan shrugged. “I see no reason to stop her, as long as we return before Marcus arrives.” He checked his phone. “Still no update from Kris. Are you coming with us?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I’ll stay here.”

From the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes, Lachlan figured his teammate was in a fair amount of pain.