Dance with the Devil (9 page)

'So far so good,' she called to Drew. 'The bridge appears to be still here. I'll walk all the way across just in case.'

Drew played out enough rope to leave Emma two metres in front of the vehicle, then he tied it to the bullbar using a half-hitch knot. Still holding onto the rope, he got into the driver's seat. If the bridge gave way under the Land Cruiser, he wanted to be able to free Emma quickly. One tug on his end and the knot would slip undone.

He grabbed Emma's medical kit and looked inside. He took a long-bladed scalpel and placed it on the dashboard. If he needed to cut the rope off her in a hurry, at least he would be prepared.

The vehicle inched forward as Drew released the handbrake.

It was a tedious process. He watched Emma carefully, pleased she was keeping an eye upstream, avoiding floating debris. He kept just enough distance between them that the rope stayed above the water. Twice she stumbled, would have fallen, but she grabbed the rope and steadied herself.

Although the river had risen, because the water had spread further over the land and was no longer channelled between the banks, it appeared to have dissipated some of the fierceness of the current.

Water slapped erratically against the vehicle. Drew was concentrating so intently on Emma that he failed to notice a movement downstream. A swirl of water that had nothing to do with the current.

The rippling water disguised the armoured back and jagged tail. Only the broad snout and protruding eyes broke the surface.

By the time he saw it there was no time to yell a warning to Emma.

The crocodile sank beneath the water.

Drew slammed the Land Cruiser into reverse and stomped on the accelerator.

The rope snapped tight, jerked Emma backwards.

An explosion of water erupted. The crocodile lunged upwards. The powerful jaws snapped shut.

Emma hit the water. She gasped in shock as her left leg was almost wrenched out of its hip socket. The rope pulled against her and slipped up under her breasts.

She realised she was being towed backwards through the water. She flailed her arms, pushed her head up. And looked into the flat yellow eyes of a crocodile.

A crocodile with her boot wedged between its teeth.

Terror choked her.

The crocodile tried to plunge beneath the water.

Emma felt as though her body were being torn in half as the crocodile began a death roll. Her head went under and water filled her mouth.

Suddenly the rope pressure eased. The crocodile stopped rolling and Emma pushed upwards and gasped for air. Her left thigh scraped against the wooden crossbeam of the bridge.

The crocodile was trying to drag her into deep water!

Strong hands grabbed under her arms and pulled her shoulders clear of the water. She blinked the water from her eyes. Drew's face loomed above her, eyes fierce, a scalpel clenched between his teeth.

Just then the crocodile rose to the surface. Drew grabbed the scalpel.

The crocodile opened its mouth to get a better grip and Drew plunged the scalpel into its eye.

The reptilian body thrashed wildly. The end of its tail caught Drew behind the knee and knocked him across Emma. The current washed him off the bridge.

Emma reached out and caught his hand. Fingers gripped fingers. She pushed her boots against the bridge crossboard, grabbed the rope in her other hand and stretched back.

Every muscle in her body screamed in agony as she tried to pull Drew against the current. She watched as he struggled to bring his legs around onto the bridge. She glanced around quickly, but the crocodile was gone.

Drew couldn't feel anything below his right knee. He tried to catch onto the bridge with his left foot and failed. He gripped Emma's hand tighter and pulled his body closer. Now his boot made it. He levered himself forward, easing the pressure on Emma's hand.

They dragged themselves against the Land Cruiser and grabbed onto the bullbar.

'The croc?' Drew looked around.

Emma shook her head. 'I don't know. Can you stand?'

Drew nodded and pushed himself upright. Feeling was returning to his leg. And with the feeling came pain.

'We'd better get out of here,' he said, then swore as he sighted the crocodile. It was further downstream. But it turned and submerged in one fluid movement.

'Get on the hood!' he yelled to Emma, pushing her across the bullbar. She scrambled up, and he pulled himself up and swung his legs onto the hood as the enraged reptile crashed into the vehicle.

The Land Cruiser shook under the onslaught. The steady thrum of the engine didn't falter. Drew cursed. Damn crocodile was just over three metres long but so powerful.

The crocodile disappeared.

'Climb onto the roof, then swing down into the driver's seat through the window.' Drew loosened the rope, slipped it off Emma and pushed her towards the windscreen. 'I'll look out for our friend.'

Emma grabbed hold of the roof-rack and hauled herself onto the roof. She stretched one leg around into the open window.

'No!'

At Drew's shout, she pulled her leg back like a spring. The crocodile launched itself at the door, pale fleshy mouth open, teeth dull white in the fading light.

The whump of dinting panelwork echoed in Emma's ears as the crocodile hit the door. Before it could attack again, she swung both legs through the window and slid into the seat.

'Hold on!' She slammed the gear stick into first. She drove forward, praying the bridge was still intact. The crocodile had acknowledged defeat, he didn't attack again.

Emma didn't stop to let Drew off until she'd cleared the water and driven onto higher ground. Her heart was thumping wildly, and as she got out of the vehicle she began to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, but she could still see the emotionless yellow eyes, the ancient mouth ready to snap shut.

Drew's arms closed around her and pulled her against him. Through his wet shirt she could feel his warmth, and it helped to ease the coldness gripping her. She wanted to stay there, just being held by him, taking comfort from his strength, but she straightened and moved from his embrace.

'We'd better get back home. I'll have to change your dressings.'
Work, concentrate on work. I've coped before. I will again.

Drew cursed, an exasperated sound. 'What about your foot, Emma?'

She shrugged. 'It's not painful. Perhaps the boot is keeping pressure on it.' She walked to the driver's side.

'Can you drive?' Drew asked.

'Of course!' Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears. Concern flashed in Drew's eyes. She made an effort, lowering her tone. 'Get in.'

Drew favoured his right leg as he walked around to the passenger side.
Must check that out when we get back
, she made the mental note.

'Sorry about losing your scalpel.'

'What?' Emma brought her mind back; back from images and feelings, from terror and sadness, from the sense of loss and time that could never be regained.

Darkness had fallen like it always did in the tropics. No gradually softening twilight, just a swift blanket of black that covered the land. The Land Cruiser's headlights picked out the road, scattering light across the gum trees. A kangaroo froze, held captive by the glare. Emma slowed, pressed the horn, and the kangaroo bounded off into the night.

'I'll have to replace your scalpel.'

'Don't be bloody silly! You saved my life. If you hadn't stabbed it…' She shuddered.

'Are crocs normally in the river here?'

'No. Never so far upstream.'

'Perhaps the cyclone and the flooding disorientated it. One was found in an irrigation ditch at Babinda some years ago.'

Emma turned off the road and through the property gates. Home. Suddenly she couldn't wait to get there, throw off her clothes, stand under the shower and let the hot water wash away the taste of mud, the taste of fear.

The dogs ran out to greet them, sniffed curiously at their wet clothing and whined to let their hunger be known. Emma took her torch and walked through the house, lighting the kerosene lamps, the candles.

'Shower for you,' she said to Drew, leading the way to the bathroom. She peeled the dressings from his hands, unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. She pulled off the dressings, pressing her fingers against the tape lines to ease the sting.

His skin was warm, making her hands tingle with the need to trace the hard muscles under the smooth skin, to touch him more intimately. With a shock, Emma realised just how desperately her body craved the feel of his. He'd kissed her once, shaking her with her body's reaction to him. But his kindness, his caring, were slipping under her defences and she didn't know how to stop that. She felt a need she hadn't felt in a long, long time. A need she'd once thought had been answered, only to be bitterly disappointed.

'Drop your jeans.' Her voice was sharp. She registered his frown, his raised eyebrow, but gestured to his right leg. 'I want to look at your leg, where the croc hit you.'

'We should be looking at your foot!'

'Bugger my foot! It's all right.'

'No, it's
not
all right! Now take your boot off.' He crossed his arms over his chest. She watched the muscles ripple and found her breath catching in her throat.

'All right.' She sank onto the bath edge and pulled off her boot and sock. There was a gaping hole through the leather just above the instep. Another one a little further up. And lodged in the heel was a crocodile tooth.

She stared at the tooth.
He almost had me. If it wasn't for Drew
…

'You were lucky.' Drew turned her foot. 'Apart from the gouge across the top - it's not too deep and it's stopped bleeding - your foot's okay.'

Emma pulled the sock and boot back on. 'Now you,' she said.

Drew pushed his jeans down. Emma walked behind him. She let out a soft whistle. 'Beautiful bruise.
You're
lucky it didn't break your leg.' She walked to the door.

'Come into the surgery as soon as you're finished and I'll put clean dressings on. Now I'm going to feed the dogs.'

Drew waited for Emma to finish with his wounds. He'd noticed a tremor in her hands but had said nothing to her. She was a strong woman but she'd been through a lot in the past couple of days, and he worried that her self-proclaimed ability to cope had been stretched to its limits.

'Emma, please go and have a shower now. I'll get something ready to eat. Go on.'

She was reluctant, but he could see her tiredness. Finally she nodded.

Drew stoked the embers in the wood stove and added more fuel. It made the kitchen hotter, but hot water was a luxury he wasn't prepared to do without. Then he opened a tin of sausages and vegetables and tipped it into a saucepan to warm up.

The crocodile attack replayed in his mind. The fear that had convulsed his body as the nails were driven into his hands was nothing compared to the terror that coursed through him when the croc had lunged at Emma. Now he was as shaken by the close call as by the depth of feeling he'd discovered he had for her.

The food was hot, but Emma hadn't come into the kitchen. Drew put the saucepan aside and walked down the hallway. The shower was still running. He listened at the door, but couldn't hear any other sounds. Worry gnawed at him.

'You okay in there?' he called out. There was no answer.

He called again, then knocked on the door. The shower kept running. He opened the door.

The lamp filled the room with mellow light. Steam rose above the shower curtain hanging around the bath. No silhouette showed behind the curtain. Drew's stomach knotted. He pushed the curtain aside.

Emma was sitting in the bath, hot water streaming over her. She looked up, startled, as though she'd been disturbed in sleep.

'What are you doing here?' She yelled at him.

'I shouted, I knocked, but you didn't answer. I was worried. You've been in here a long time, Emma.'

Emma shook her head, stood up and turned off the taps. Drew tried to be a gentleman and look away from her naked body with its slender waist, high full breasts and dark curls partially obscured by her folded hands, but his own body instinctively reacted. Desire flashed through him, hot and sharp. He took the towel off the rack, handed it to her.

She took it without saying a word. She felt as though she were splitting in two. Exhaustion had caught up with her as she'd stood under the running water, the heat seeping into her bones, lulling her senses.

But her mind still raced, tumbling scenes over and over. Her father's still body; his words of loneliness, of loss, scrawled across a child's notebook. The comfort of Drew's arms around her, the feel of his kiss. The adrenaline rush as Mary's child slipped into her waiting hands; the crocodile's stare and its relentless intention of death.

It was only when Drew had pulled the curtain aside that Emma realised she'd sat down. And she'd been too dazed to try to cover herself. Now she hurriedly wrapped the towel around her breasts and squeezed water from her hair. She picked up their sodden clothes and tossed them in the bath, muttering, 'They can drain overnight.' Then she grabbed the lamp, picked up her boots and carried them with her into her bedroom.

She was about to place her boots on the floor when the gaping holes riveted her attention. As though in a dream, she watched her finger push into the large hole on top, and imagined the tooth cutting through the leather, slicing into her foot. She looked down. Blood was seeping from the cut.

Something inside her shattered.

She threw the boot against the wall. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She could hear herself crying - a strange sound. A part of her mind registered that she could never remember having cried aloud before.

'Emma! Emma!'

Drew was shaking her, shouting into her face, forcing her to look at him.

'They're ruined!' she cried. 'My boots.'

He nodded, but she knew he didn't understand. Couldn't understand.

'My father - he gave them to me. The last thing he ever…' The words broke into body-wrenching sobs. She couldn't think any more. There were only feelings. Feelings tumbling around and around inside her.