A SEAL to Save Her (7 page)

Even if she could get past all that, Dex was a SEAL, a man who lived his life in constant danger, gone on deployment most of the year. She wasn't sure she wanted that in her life. When she committed, it was 100 percent. She was the kind of woman who worked closely with her man, stuck by him when times got tough, even though the political trail was an exhausting one. She'd been fearless back then, before the accident. But loss had a way of changing someone and the pain of losing somebody she loved again would be too hard.

She tried not to think anymore, downing the last of the water just as two men appeared, each riding a small donkey and leading two camels laden with what looked like wheat cropped at the bottom of the stalk and tied onto the tall beasts. She could almost believe she was in Utah, the landscape was so familiar, but seeing the camels drove home to her that she wasn't in the United States and she was far from safe.

The memories of Brad dredged up her longing for a family of her own—a solid, close-knit one. Brad had been like Dex—fearless, strong, his principles and convictions driving him. Such a good man.

Well, this wasn't doing her any good, thinking about Brad and guilt and Dexter's very hot, very real kiss. She closed her eyes briefly, battling with the lingering feel of his lips against hers. She was trying to deny she was thinking about Dex, wanting more with him, using fear and adrenaline as excuses, but deep down she knew neither of those biological reactions had anything to do with the very feminine reaction she'd had to that gorgeous mouth. Tears stung her eyes as she recognized that maybe she was ready to take that step. Her gut twisted with her real need to get beyond feeling disloyal. Brad would want her to move on. Wouldn't he? But that uneasy feeling persisted as the city materialized in front of her in the haze of the heat. Her heart did a little spin, remembering the way his lips had tasted, the deep, melting blue of his eyes and the immediate response she had of craving more. They had connected so fast, so deeply, it scared her. More than being alone with nothing. She was used to nothing.

She had to concentrate on getting out of this mess and saving the SEAL who had saved her, not spinning fantasies that would easily dissolve in the harsh reality of running from unknown assailants who wanted her dead for God knew what reason.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the convoy drive off the road and head into the distance in a cloud of dust. They were bypassing Charikar. That was a good thing.

She noticed with a start that there were two armed guards, part of the Parwan security forces, manning the entrance into the city. People were moving easily around a cylinder, a long, green-and-white striped pole similar to a parking garage barrier gate. The gate stretched across a turquoise blue-and-white stylized arch as it was lifted for entrance and lowered to stop vehicles for searches. She lifted her chin, relaxing her muscles to look more natural. She didn't want to draw any attention. The two guards at the gate were busy searching a vehicle and she sauntered through without any problems. Once inside the bustling city, she pulled the map out of her pocket and studied it.

The WHO office was downtown and that was still a trek. With a city of ninety-six thousand people, it was as crowded as many places in the States, only the cars were older and rougher-sounding. People moved briskly along and Piper didn't slow, but waded into the crowd. She was jostled and had to sidestep often.

Taking a left, according to the map, put her in a residential section with the same sandy-colored houses that she'd seen in the village, only a little less worn. She found fewer people here, but continued her pace.

Turning right this time, she went down a long street and came out to a main thoroughfare. She'd reached the center of town. As she traversed deeper into downtown, Charikar hummed with commerce. She encountered more and more people. Passing the bazaar that was marked on her map, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She was almost there. Feeling the effects of too much adrenaline, dehydration, shock and terror, she reached the clinic's doors and pushed through them. She stumbled down the corridor and came out into a waiting area.

There was a woman behind the counter and she looked up, her dark skin glistening with sweat. She said something in Pashto, but Piper couldn't catch her breath, she was so hot.

Piper swayed, feeling dizzy. For a moment, she couldn't speak, then she rasped, “Help me.”

The woman's eyes widened and she rushed around the desk as Piper started to fall. She caught her and bodily dragged her to a chair, pulling off the
keffiyeh
. Her eyes widened when she saw her blond hair.

“You are American?” the woman said.

Piper nodded. “Water, please,” Piper rasped.

Just then two Afghan soldiers walked in and Piper stiffened. It wouldn't do for anyone to know she was an American and draw attention. Piper switched to French and said, “Please help me.”

Immediately the woman responded. “Of course. Tell me what is wrong.” Piper relaxed as they lost interest in her.

The woman called to the back in rapid French and a dark-haired man emerged and started to speak to the soldiers. He nodded and went to the back. When he came out he handed them something and they left.

“What are you doing here? This is no place for an American woman alone.”

“I'm here for Lieutenant Dexter Kaczewski. He's wounded and has a bad fever.”

The woman's face went from professionally detached to concerned, then she yelled, “Pierre!”

The dark-haired man came rushing out and spoke more of the rapid French as he went into the back and brought a bottle of water. Piper drank.

“Are you Dr. Contee?”

“Yes, but please call me Blessing,” she said with a thick French accent. “Anyone who is a friend of that fine man is a friend to me. This is my husband, Pierre. Let's get you cooled off.”

“There's no time. Dex.”

“All right, then.” She turned to her husband, a large, imposing man. “Keep giving her water.” She walked over to two white cabinets and opened the door to the first one. “What happened to him?”

Between sips of water, Piper explained everything from his RPG wounding all the way to when he collapsed at Afsana's.

“He was bleeding?”

“Yes, a lot.”

“Still when you left?”

“Yes. When he got into that fight with the insurgent, I think that guy pulled his stitches. Really, it's only been a day...”

Her voice hitched, but Pierre set his hand on her shoulder and squeezed and it helped. She looked up into his kind brown eyes. He smiled. “You have done well to get here, little one. The heart of a lion, yes, wife?”

“I would say that's true.” Blessing smiled at her husband.

“A day since he was injured. He was amazing and he saved my life.”

“Ah, there's no doubt that is true. He is a warrior and a protector. But he is in good hands. Afsana and her husband are very liberal, but must hide it, I'm afraid. They are good people. Dex is safe with them.” After grabbing several ampules, syringes, gloves, gauze, antiseptic and bandages, she stuffed everything into a black bag.

“I must go with this woman to help Dexter. You stay here and I will come back as soon as I can.” She cupped his face and kissed him on both cheeks, then the mouth.
“Sois prudent, mon amour.”

He nodded and repeated it as if it was their ritual.
Stay safe, my love.
How sweet. She immediately thought of Dex, and although he wasn't her love, she got a little discombobulated thinking about that kiss, as if the sentiments were the same.

They exited the clinic through the back door to an alley, where a tan Jeep was parked. Piper was so thankful that she didn't have to walk any more in this heat and they were going to get back to Dex swiftly.

Blessing slipped into the driver's seat and started up the car. Putting it in gear, she edged out of the narrow driveway into the street as people passed by. No one paid them much attention. When she reached the gate, she spoke fluently to the guard, who, after a cursory search, let them pass.

They were flying along when Blessing said, “What are you doing in Afghanistan?”

Piper explained the situation and Blessing's brows rose. “A US senator attacked by her own people. Sounds like there is trouble for you at home. This is why you haven't contacted the authorities?”

“Yes, Dex insisted we couldn't take the chance.”

“Then I would heed his warning. He is the best judge.”

It wasn't long before they were entering the small village, and even though some people glanced in their direction, no one came over. Piper had already recovered her head with the
keffiyeh
and they knocked.

Afsana answered the door all smiles. “Come in. You are welcome.” As soon as the door closed, she embraced Piper, then Blessing. “Thank you for coming. I knew you were going to be okay.”

“How is he?” Blessing asked before Piper could answer, a lump in her throat.

Piper spied two small boys, one about eight and the other not more than six. They eyed her shyly, the little one smiling at her.

“This is Israr and Emad, my sons.”

“They're beautiful,” Piper said. Especially the oldest one with his dark shock of hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

“Raffi is going to take them to my cousin's for a visit.”

Just then her husband came out with the boys' traveling cases, greeted her and hustled them out of the house.

They all made their way to the small sleeping chamber. Dex was shirtless with a white bandage from just below his left armpit to his waist, bathed in sweat, and Blessing knelt down next to him. She rolled up her sleeves. “Afsana,
s'il vous plaît
, hot water, and keep it coming.”

Piper swayed; the relief was almost overwhelming. Afsana steadied her and she clasped the woman's hand. “He is going to be fine. I have seen him worse. He is a fighter.”

Piper nodded and went to kneel beside his head. She took up the cloth, still in a basin of water, and started to smooth it across his forehead. He turned his head toward her and his eyes fluttered open. “Ah, the angel is back.”

“Hello, Dex. I got you a doctor.”

He sighed and his gaze flicked toward the WHO worker. “Hello, Blessing.”

“I see you've gotten yourself into another pickle, handsome.”

“Yeah, just a flesh wound,” he said.

Blessing rolled up her sleeves, chuckling as she donned the gloves. “SEALs like to understate things, I think.” When she removed the bandages, he groaned and rolled his head; her eyes went grave. “Yes, indeed.” She glanced at Piper and said, “I'll need your help.”

Chapter 6

P
iper couldn't seem to keep her hands off him. It wasn't just the fact that he was in pain. She needed to touch him. Could it be because, even in this state, he made her feel so safe? Was it reassurance?

Shaking two pills into her palm, Blessing grabbed a water bottle and handed it to Piper. “Get him to swallow these.”

Donning a pair of rubber gloves, Blessing pulled out a vial and a syringe.

He turned his face away. “I'm allergic to...”

“Morphine. I remember. Those pills are a pain reliever and a fever reducer.”

He took the pills and dry swallowed them, following up with a sip of water.

“Dex, I would really like to stop meeting like this,” she said, starting to work on the wounds with the needle, applying anesthetic.

“I have to agree. But you're good for my health.”

She flashed a wide, white smile, pulling a small pair of scissors and tweezers out of her bag, swabbing both his wounds and her instruments thoroughly and eliciting a quick indrawn breath from him. “I don't want sewing you up to become a habit.” She started to cut the stitches and pull the threads, along with any stray pieces of stitching caught in his skin or the ragged wound, shaking her head. “Someone did a number on him. I've never seen stitches pulled out of the skin like this,” she said.

Feeling a little queasy at the sight of his torn and ripped flesh, Piper said, “The man who tried to kill me stomped on his wound on purpose, but it only slowed Dex down.”

“I hope he kicked the bastard's ass.”

“I did, and then Piper plugged him right through the heart,” he said, and he sounded proud of her. She looked down into his pain-filled, glazed eyes.

“Then he shot him again. Twice.”

He closed his eyes, his hand grasping for hers in blind agony, crying out, the sound cutting through her. She threaded her fingers through his as he squeezed, his jaw flexing under her hand. “Insurance,” he said raggedly, the word slurred.

“That still hurts, huh?”

A small, pain-filled laugh huffed out of him. “Your bedside manner needs work, Doc.”

Blessing stopped what she was doing and picked up another syringe and injected more anesthetic until Dex seemed to relax some. Then she went back to work.

His eyes were so dark, so deep, falling into them would be way too easy. But avoiding his eyes only centered hers on the long, lean line of his body, the heavy, glistening muscles and the tantalizing hair that started at his navel and dipped under that precarious sheet. Blessing seemed immune to the glorious view, but Piper hadn't seen a man like this...since Brad...okay, never. Brad never looked like this...this warrior. Her throat immediately ached. This seemed like a betrayal, that she was lusting after all those hard-packed muscles.

“It's a wonder he made it this far. Some of these wounds are deep.”

“They were ambushed, from what I could gather. My brother Ty was also involved. He's more gravely wounded, but is receiving care at Landstuhl.”

“That is a very fine facility. I'm sure he's in good hands.”

The only sound in the room was Dex's labored breathing. He had his eyes squeezed tight, but as Blessing got to the end of the wound, she sat up to relieve the strain on her back by stretching.

She irrigated the wound again, then threaded a curved needle. Dex's head lolled and his breathing was heavy and even, his hand now loosely clasped with hers. She touched his face. It felt as if his skin wasn't as hot.

“It's easy to care about him,
oui
?”

“Yes. He's pretty dynamic.”

“And stubborn and brave, and downright annoying.” She chuckled as she made neat, small stitches. “And—” she sighed “—quite handsome. If it wasn't for my Pierre...”

Piper instantly got a pang of jealousy. There was no denying that Blessing was lovely and Dex had affection for her, but Piper was quite suddenly glad she did have her Pierre.

She really had no claim on the man. She'd just met him only a day ago. It was shocking to her how much had changed in just hours. Someone tried to kill her in a way that would make it look like she'd been a victim of insurgents in a freak hospital takeover in Afghanistan. Nothing but a lead in a news story. Instead, Dex had saved her. She reached for the cloth in the basin and smoothed it over his forehead, cheeks and neck.

“I see there is no ring on your finger. You aren't married?”

“No. I was. He died in a car accident eighteen months ago.”

“Ah, I am sorry for your loss, Piper. That must have been very difficult.”

“It was. Brad was a very good man. It's his seat that I took over to help fulfill some of the promises he made his constituents.”

“Bah, politics. I am not a fan.”

Piper smiled and said, “A necessary evil.”

“No children for you and your Brad?”

“No, I lost my unborn child in the same accident.”

Blessing eyes softened in sympathy. “You have known heartache.”

“What about you? Children?”

“No, not yet. I think that Pierre and I will plan to have children, but not in this war-torn country. Perhaps once I have left this post and we settle somewhere more stable and safe.”

“How do you know Dex?” Piper asked.

“When the conflict was intense here, it was very difficult to keep medical supplies stocked and available. I was handling a lot of casualties—my little clinic was overrun.” She wiped away some blood with a gauze pad. “When we lost a large shipment of medical supplies, Dex and his team went after them, got them back and, with them, my husband. They had taken him to administer to some gravely wounded guerrillas. I will always be grateful for Dex stepping up and trying to make a difference in these people's lives. That's the thing with him. He never judges anyone, not by race or religion. He treats everyone on an even level. It's not to say he isn't vigilant and very competent, for the record, but he's just got a way about him that a lot of people respond to. He seems to know what to say and doesn't hesitate to do what is right.”

Piper set the cloth in the basin and reached for another gauze pad, blotting the sweat from Blessing's brow. Blessing said, “I would do anything for him. Even keep my mouth shut about a US senator hiding out in a small Afghan village and sewing him up in a place that isn't as sanitary as my clinic.”

Piper returned that bright, flashing smile. “I appreciate that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We're going to try to get back to the States.”

“I believe I could help you with that. I want Dex to rest at least three days. Then I will come back and take you both to Kabul. You should be able to charter a plane home.”

“Yes, we have a company on retainer, so that will be a piece of cake. Thank you very much. That would be such a big help.”

Blessing finished up his stitches and swabbed his wounds with more antiseptic. She packed up her bag and rose. “I want him to rest for three days solid. That will give him time to heal and to recover from the fever. Not enough time, but it will have to do for now. Here are his antibiotics and more pain meds.” She put the bottles and a package of syringes in her hands, explaining the dosage of each. “Make sure that he takes plenty of water and broth. Afsana makes excellent broth. Oh, and the antibiotic needs to be injected into his butt.”

Afsana nodded from the doorway, carrying a plate of food and a bowl.

Piper's face heated at the instruction, but she would have to follow the doctor's orders to the letter. She wanted Dex well and able to travel. The faster they got out of here, the safer they would be. The only threat would be from the unknown, not people in a hostile country interested in kidnapping or killing Americans, especially a high-ranking official and a navy SEAL.

“If his fever doesn't lift or he gets worse, come and get me in Charikar and I will come back, but I don't expect that will happen. He really belongs in a hospital, but such is the life of a navy SEAL. You also, eat and get some rest. Becoming exhausted will not serve either you or Dex.
Êtes-vous d'accord?
”

“Agreed,” Piper said as Blessing embraced her.

“You are a very brave and strong woman,” Blessing said.

“Thank you,” Piper said with a soft smile.

Piper folded down next to Dex as Afsana placed a plate in her hands and some broth for Dex. She left to walk Blessing out. A few minutes later, she heard her Jeep start up. Piper sent her hands through her hair and pulled off the neck wrap and vest. She shook Dex slightly and his eyes opened slowly.

“Time for more medication and some broth.”

“I missed Blessing? Damn.”

Piper smiled at him. “You actually had a conversation with her. You were out of it. She just left, but she's coming back in three days.”

“We need to get moving.”

“No. We're safe here, Dex, and you need to recover. We're not going anywhere for three days.”

“What?”

“Doctor's orders.”

He sighed. “Looks like I'm outnumbered.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like hell.”

“Hungry?”

“A little.”

She settled close to him and picked up the bowl and spoon, then realized he couldn't eat prone. She set everything down and moved around him. “Let me get behind you so that I can feed you.”

“You don't think I'm capable of feeding myself.” He sounded completely exhausted, his words still slurring together, but they had a lilt to them as if he enjoyed challenging her.

She raised a brow. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Then be quiet.” She slipped her hands under his shoulders, splaying her legs and scooting her butt forward until his torso was cradled in her lap, the back of his head resting just below her chin.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said softly. His hair was soft alongside her neck; the weight of him seemed so right against her, and a weird, protective sensation rolled over her, clutching her heart. She was powerless to stop these feelings even as the guilt churned within her. There wasn't a man she met since she'd lost Brad who was able to get past these barriers. But in one short day, Dex had stripped away a defense system that had been in place since she'd woken up alone and empty in a hospital bed in DC.

Everything tingled, as if her body had been asleep and was now waking up, the pins and needles a reminder that blood flowed through her veins.

He made her feel so alive.

She picked up the broth and brought the spoon to his mouth. Clearly agitated, but still a bit out of it, he didn't respond. “Don't make me do the choo-choo train noises,” she threatened.

“I'm not five,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

She gave him a narrow, chastising look. “Then don't act like it.” She nudged him and he opened up so she could pop in the spoon. Dex was the kind of man who was used to being in charge, and it obviously rankled him that he couldn't even feed himself.

His little hum of satisfaction went through her like a knife, the vibration from his chest through his back only making her more aware of him.

“See. It's good.”

He tilted his head to look up at her. “It's damn good.” He studied her face and said, “How are you doing?”

She barely knew with all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. That fact that she was running for her life with a navy SEAL who was making her feel more than she had in months, the fear and danger they were in, not to mention that she'd killed a man, it was all so overwhelming.

“I've had better days. I really don't know how you do all this.”

“It's my office,” he said, accepting and swallowing another bite. “I would go stark raving mad having to yammer at people all day and not have them heed a single thing I said.”

“You like giving out orders and having them followed.”

“War is easy, Piper. There are enemies and you kill them while trying to stay alive. It doesn't hurt that I'm in charge of a bunch of great knuckleheads.” His eyes glinting, he shook his head, watching her with those piercing blue eyes. “In politics, you never know who will be stabbing you in the back. Five minutes with a double-talker and one of us would be leaving in a body bag.”

The way he said it made her laugh—really laugh. “I'm guessing it wouldn't be you.”

He chuckled. “No. Probably not.”

“Not a really good way to get a bill made into a law. We might have to go over diplomacy and conflict resolutions that have nothing to do with ‘move your shapely ass' or the business end of a handgun.”

He grinned at her, meeting her gaze directly, and they exchanged a long, silent look—a shared joke, a companionable closeness, a kind of unspoken honesty.

“You have a gift of negotiation,” he said.

“Gift?”

“Yes, the most dangerous or useless gift is one that isn't earned. You've earned yours. It took guts to do something that would remind you every day of what you lost. Fight for something that your husband passionately believed in and was dedicated to doing with his life. It's admirable.”

Feeling unexpectedly close to tears, she whispered, “I couldn't do anything else.”

“You're actively pursuing your passion. Wildly committed to doing this because your husband can't. I call that an unbreakable spirit. Most of what I do is ninety-nine-point-nine percent mental. I only use my physicality to carry out what my mind dictates. Getting through combat is all mental—failing and getting up, again, all mental. Everything I do comes from up here.” He tapped his temple. “It's the engine that runs me. I regret that what I've chosen to do with my life has taken a toll on the people I loved and who loved me, but not enough to stick by me when the going got tough. I've had two relationships and lost them both. So, being a SEAL is my passion, something I'm wildly committed to and what I tell myself every day is worthwhile. It makes me unbreakable.”