Deadly Strain (Biological Response Team) (8 page)

She moved to continue with the bandage, but stopped suddenly as she noticed his aching boner.

Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Sharp. Do you always rearm this fast, or has it been a while?”

Chapter Eight

It wasn’t the amazement in her voice or how her jaw dropped open that made him laugh. It was the question.

His whole body shook with the effort it took to keep the guffaws from exiting his big mouth.

She didn’t frown, she glared at him with her whole face. Brows low, upper lip retracted, teeth clenched and nose screwed up like she was trying hard not to smell something reeking worse than a week-old corpse.

“Really?” she asked.

“I just don’t know if I should feel embarrassed or proud,” he managed to get out without making too much noise. “You should see the look on your face.”

She scowled at him for another moment, then went back to bandaging his leg, muttering, “Men.”

He shrugged. “It’s a natural physical response.”

Her hands finished bandaging up his leg. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or National Geographic?”

National Geographic?
For a moment, he wanted to laugh at her comment, but there was something... He studied her. She was joking like she always did, but there was an underlying thread in her tone containing no humor at all. He was tempted to let her do it, to go along with the penis joke, play it safe. But her shoulders were tense and she wasn’t looking him in the eyes.

“You.” He let his answer stand on its own for a moment, then added, “Right now, you’re the only person who matters. We
will
survive. We
will
get back to base. I won’t accept anything less.”

Her expression turned solemn as she looked at him, like she wanted to believe him, but wasn’t sure she could.

He needed her to understand that when it came to what was between them, she was in charge. “We’re a team, Grace. I’m your weapon and you’re mine.”

She bent her head to finish with his leg. “I’ve never wanted to be a weapon.” She paused for a moment. “I’m a third-generation military doctor who shoots at the marksman level, but I hate firing a gun. I killed five people today. I know it was in self-defense and there wasn’t any other choice, but it still hurts me that I did it.”

“You’re allowed to be a human being,” he told her, taking her hands in his. “Even stubborn assholes like me have to work through the shit we see and do. That’s why the team is so important. We support each other, and you.” He pointed at her. “You’ve earned your spot on our team.”

“Our team?”

“Yeah, ours. As far as all the guys are concerned, you’re
our
doctor.”

“So, what we did earlier, that was you taking
care
of me?”

He watched her face, trying to determine how she really felt about it. Was there an ember of anger there? He couldn’t tell. Had to be sure. “That was a man showing a woman how gorgeous she is.” He hesitated, waited for her to respond, but she seemed deep in thought.

Shit. Her whole family was in the army, one way or another. “When we get back to base, I’ll talk to Cutter, get reassigned.”

Her startled gaze reconnected with his. “What?”

“You’re too important to the training mission. I’m replaceable, you’re not.”

“What the hell kind of bullshit is that?” Now she sounded angry.

“I crossed a line...”

“I sprinted across it.” She poked him in the shoulder. “You tried to slow me down, but I distinctly recall dragging you along with me for the ride.”

He snorted. “I started it.”

“I finished it,” she told him, glancing at his groin. “You’re not telling Cutter anything.” She stopped, frowned and asked, “Unless you want to be reassigned?”

“No.” He smiled. “Not a chance. Of course, we have to get out of this mess first.”

She shook her head. “I know how creative you are, Sharp. I’ll bet you ten bucks you’ve got a plan already.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I’ve played chess with you too many times not to know you’re a man who plans two moves ahead.”

“Predicting what my opponent is going to do on a chessboard is a hell of a lot easier than in combat, or even poker.”

“Touché.” She put the first-aid kit into the backpack, then faced him and glanced at his leg. “Pants?”

The woman wasn’t going to give an inch. “So, are we good or not?”

“We’re good,” she said after a moment or two. “It’s just...” She sighed and swallowed hard. “Earlier, when I freaked out...I
really
freaked out. I had no control over myself and that’s not me, but I can’t seem to stop it from happening. I hate it. How can I do my job if I’m...” She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “I’m damaged.”

What had fucked her up so bad? “Hey, no harm, no foul. Feel free to freak out whenever you need to. You’ve earned a free one or two. Hell, I’ve seen you knock a marine off his feet who was too amped up on adrenaline to realize his flesh wound was bleeding buckets. That guy was twice the size of you, but you didn’t back down when he got all mouthy. You told him if he didn’t cooperate, you were going to fix it so his wife never had to use birth control again.” Sharp wished he could choke whoever put that look on her face. “We’re all damaged, and, fair warning, Doc, I have a protective streak a mile wide. I reserve the right to stick with you no matter how hard you flip your shit.”

She nodded, but he could tell from her jerky movements she was already regretting telling him as much as she had. He had to get her refocused on their situation, demonstrate that he could keep his mouth shut and be the man she could count on.

“Okay.” He gave her a sharp nod. “Here are our priorities. Stay alive and out of sight.” He ticked off finger after finger. “Watch for a rescue and/or retrieval team. Get the samples to your lab. Save the world.”

She looked at him like he was a few bullets short of a magazine. “Save the world, huh?”

He winked. “That’s what puts the
special
in Special Forces.”

“Ham.” She rolled her eyes. “So, how do we achieve our priorities?” She gestured at the cave around them. “We seem to be alive and out of sight. What about the rest? If we don’t get these samples to the lab within the next twenty-four hours...” She paused, tensed, then continued, “The anthrax attack in the village was probably a test. To see how the strain would perform in a relatively controlled environment.”

“It performed too well.”

“It could kill hundreds, even thousands in
hours
. We have no time to waste, but we’re stuck here.” The last word was spoken in a frustrated tone bordering on anger and sorrow at the same time.

* * *

People were going to die. A lot of people, and there wasn’t a damn thing Grace could do about it. If the person who’d created the anthrax strain in her samples were within her grasp, she’d cheerfully choke them to death.

Sharp looked at her like she was some kind of pity case. Maybe she was, but she was also a doctor and a soldier, and she’d be damned if she’d allow some backroom herbalist who believed he could create and control a plague let his monster loose on anyone he pleased.

This anthrax would consume everyone it came in contact with.

Everyone.

It could make the latest Ebola outbreak in northern Africa look like a minor blip on the world’s heart monitor.

Sharp leaned forward and put his hands on her shoulders.

She stilled, her gaze on his, her emotions balanced on the edge of a knife made slick by blood of their dead lying in the husk of the helicopter they left behind.

“We reach our goals by putting one foot in front of the other,” he said with a voice as solid as steel. “Staying calm and remembering who we are.”

She wanted to grab hold of him and never let go, but was he all talk and no substance? Would he dissolve into a mist at the first sign of trouble? “Who are we?”

“I’m Special Forces Weapons Sergeant Jacob Foster, and you’re Dr. Grace Samuels, trauma surgeon and infectious disease specialist.” He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “We’re the best, the very best at what we do. We’re going to figure out our shit and we’re going to complete our mission. Right?”

She swallowed. “Right.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Convince me, Doc, ’cause I’m not feeling it.”

She narrowed her eyes, bared her teeth and spit the word at him. “
Right
.”

He leaned back. “Much better. For a second I thought I was going to have to slap you out of your hysterics again.”

“Ha. Stay out of my back pockets, soldier.” She sucked in a deep breath, pulled the backpack beside her over and began digging in it. The words were superficial, but safe, and they soothed something frayed and hurting deep inside her chest. She didn’t want to lose her friend, and he’d figured out how to give her what she needed again. “Guess we should take stock of what we have.”

He grabbed the other backpack and opened it up, laying out its contents. Three bottles of water, medical supplies, granola bars, two MREs, two magazines for a Beretta, rope, knife, matches, emergency blanket, plastic sheeting, standard survival tin and a compass.

Her backpack’s contents were very similar, but with two unopened bottles of water, one opened and two bandages less than Sharp’s.

“If we stay in this cave,” he said. “We’ve got enough water for a couple of days.”

“We can’t stay that long for a lot of reasons.”

He nodded slowly. “We’re going to grab a few hours of sleep then try to get to the most likely place they’d extract us from.”

“Where?”

He pulled a map out of one of his pockets, and using the flashlight with the red tape, showed her a point on it circled in red. “I think we’re within a couple of klicks of this spot. There used to be a village there, but most of it was blown up back when the Russians invaded. Our intel says it’s deserted.”

“Can we get there before dawn?”

“If we push, yeah.”

“What’s our plan B?”

“Run like hell.”

“Well,” she drawled. “As long as we know where we’re going.”

He folded up the map and put it back in his pocket. “You know me, always looking ahead.” He pulled an emergency blanket out of his backpack and spread it on the sandy bottom of the cave. “Bedtime.” He lay down, leaving what looked like room for three other people.

She lowered herself carefully onto the middle of the blanket, her back to him. “You don’t snore, do you?”

“Not allowed.” He scooted a little closer. “Too noisy.” His arm went over her and he inched closer until he spooned in behind her completely.

He was big, warm and his arm curved over her waist in a way that made her feel protected. “Another one of those things that puts the
special
in Special Forces?”

“Now you’re catching on.” His lips whispered the words against the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

Her eyelids sagged, as if his giving her permission was the one thing she needed to succumb to the exhaustion attempting to pull her under. There was one thing she wanted to do first, though. Something important.

Grace put her hand over Sharp’s where it curled around her waist, tangled her fingers with his and squeezed. The last thing she remembered before sleep rolled over her was his hand squeezing back.

* * *

“Grace.”

She came awake all at once, but not in a panic. Lately, she woke ready to go down fighting. Her nightmares, filled with explosions and gunfire, following her into wakefulness. Not this time. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless.

“Grace.”

“I’m here,” she whispered.

Sharp withdrew his arm from her waist in a slow slide that made her want to catch his hand and hold it. As if they were two lovers, waking to do normal things on a normal day. What was normal anyway? A home in a place where you didn’t fear bullets coming through the door of your vehicle or explosions bringing down the roof?

Would she ever have that? Would her nightmares ever retreat to a point where loud noises didn’t make her want to hide under a rock?

She sat up. The cave was as dark as when she’d lain down. “What time is it?”

“About zero two hundred.” He sat up next to her, took a drink out of the water bottle she’d opened and handed it to her.

The water was warm and she sipped it slowly.

“We slept about four hours,” he told her. “How do you feel? Wounds bothering you?”

“Not really. Yours?”

“Nope. You tie a mean bandage, Doc.” He sounded so cheerful it was irritating.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you really wanted while I was down there.” Shit. Why had she brought that up? She was the one leading the charge on pretending it didn’t happen.

His body shook in a silent chuckle. “I plead the Fifth.”

She waited for him to push, to make a suggestive joke, but none came. Instead, he offered her a granola bar and busied himself with folding the blanket they’d slept on.

Was she ever going to understand this complicated man? It would take a lifetime, but they only had weeks left in their Afghan training mission. After that, she’d be heading to the base in Bahrain.
If
they survived and got back to Bostick.

It took them only a minute or so to eat, pack up and crouch at the entrance of the cave to see if it was safe to leave.

“We’re going to move like we did before,” he told her. “Follow me, stay close and keep watch around and behind us. I’ll worry about what’s in front.”

“Got it.”

“If you need my attention for anything, put your hand on my back.” He glanced out again. “It’s clear out there and the moon is about half-full, so we’ve got enough light to see. If it’s too dark for you, though, you can hang on to my belt.”

She nodded.

Sharp slipped out with all the noise of a wraith, and she followed. How did a man his size move so quietly?

They made their way steadily west through dry gullies, over deserted plateaus and around coulees of prickly brush. They encountered no people or animals beyond the sort that scurried away from their faint moon shadows.

It seemed like they walked for days when the horizon turned a deep azure, signaling dawn’s arrival. Sharp drew her close to speak his dead-whisper in her ear. “We’re still a quarter mile away and there may be people between us and the pickup site.”

“What do you want to do?”