Hard Core (Onyx Group) (16 page)

Gaining her bearings, she hurried to the door and pulled it
open. Cristian stood there, expression hard. “Put your shoes on, someone’s been
hurt.”

She quickly slipped into her boots. “What happened?”

“Caleb was gored by a bull.”

Her head snapped up. “Sam’s brother?”

“Yes. He’s having trouble breathing.”

She ran past him. “I need a First Aid kit,” she called over
her shoulder, hurrying out the sliding doors with Cristian on her heels. “Did
someone call 911?” She ran down the grassy slope toward the barns.

“We were waiting for you.”

Of course, no unnecessary risk. If this was serious and the
delay cost the man his life, she would never forgive herself.

“In here.” Cristian drew her into the bigger of the three
buildings. He took her to a large room that appeared to be a vet’s clinic of
sorts. Sam stood over a man who lay on a stainless steel table, covered in
blood. The three men standing off to the side held their hats in their hands,
casting uncomfortable glances at the table.

She slid in beside Sam and looked down at the man grimacing
in pain who sent her a tight, friendly smile in return. His deeply tanned face
could easily be Sam’s. She glanced at Sam.

“Twins,” he explained.

With a nod, she turned her attention back to her patient.
“Caleb?” she asked in greeting. “I’m Alana. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Bull got me on my right side,” he answered, breathing
shallow. “Wasn’t fast enough.”

“I’m going to take a look, okay?”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he drawled.

She moved to his side, aware of the many pairs of eyes
watching her every move, and lifted his bloody shirt. “So you’re the charming
one?” she asked in an effort to distract him as she gently prodded the deep
gouge in his side.

He grimaced, but didn’t lose the grin. “And the most
handsome.”

“But not the fastest.” She glanced at Sam. “I need a narrow,
hollow tube sterilized quickly. About the length of my arm. Do you treat
animals here?”

“Yes. What do you need?”

“Morphine or Versed, local anesthesia, sutures, forceps and
a sealed bottle filled with two hundred milliliters of sterile water. I need it
now.” Her tone indicated the seriousness of the situation and Sam nodded.

“I have Ketamine,” he said. “Morphine in my pack.”

Ketamine, an animal tranquilizer. “It will have to do,” she
said. “Go. And get them out.” She motioned toward the three men standing inside
the door. They didn’t need to see this.

As Sam collected the supplies, she touched Caleb’s shoulder.
His breathing was labored, his lips tinged blue. He wasn’t getting enough
oxygen. “Caleb, you have a pneumothorax. Air has entered the pleural space
surrounding your lungs. When that bull gored you it caused the pressure in the
pleura to become greater than the pressure in your lung, collapsing it. I’m
going to put in a chest tube and drain the air from the pleura so we can
re-inflate your lung. Do you understand?”

Caleb’s face pinched in pain and he nodded.

Cristian handed her a pair of rubber gloves and a bottle of
Ketamine and Lidocaine. She slipped the gloves on and glanced at him. “You may
want to wait outside,” she said. “I have to draw these up with syringes.”

Cristian paled and nodded before abruptly leaving the room.

Sam bustled in with an armload of supplies and laid them on
the table next to her.

Working quickly, Alana punched two holes in the lid of the
glass jar the size of the tubing. She cut a small piece off the end of the
rubber tubing and inserted it halfway into one of the holes. As directed, the
bottle that resembled a milk jar was filled with the correct amount of water.

Next, she drew up enough Ketamine to make Caleb sleepy, but
not knock him out. Then she drew up the Lidocaine and set the syringes aside.

“Okay, Caleb,” she said. “I need you to put your arm above
your head.” She helped him rest it comfortably over his head and picked up the
Ketamine. “Ready?” she asked. “This will make you sleepy, but won’t put you
out.”

Caleb nodded and she administered the drug. Soon, he relaxed
and struggled to keep his eyes open.

She told Sam, “I know Cristian is chomping at the bit to
come back in and I don’t need him worrying, so once I give Caleb the Lidocaine
and dispose of the needles, bring him in, okay?”

Sam nodded, pensive. Not that she blamed him. She was
performing a procedure that should be done in a hospital. His brother’s life
hung in her hands.

Carefully she prodded Caleb’s side and injected the
Lidocaine. Sam disposed of the needles and went to get Cristian while Alana
picked up a scalpel. She let everything else fall to the wayside and started
the procedure, praying she could do this without failing.

Dear God, her hand was shaking.

Alana swallowed hard, staring at her right hand, which
visibly trembled only inches from Caleb’s side. The scalpel bounced when it
should be steady.

She flashed back to Gavin’s basement and shook even more,
covered in Caleb’s blood. Too much blood on her hands. She couldn’t do this.
Someone help her, she’d lost the only thing she knew. The one thing she strived
for. The one thing that would have made her parents proud.

She’d lost her steady hands.

Someone touched her shoulder, bringing her out of Gavin’s
basement and back to the present. She looked up to see Cristian standing over
her, calm, strong.

“Do it.” Although he didn’t say it, his eyes conveyed the
confidence he had in her, giving her the strength she needed to continue.

With a nod, she drew in a deep breath and willed her hand to
steadiness. She’d done this procedure a hundred times and she could do it now.
Though the slightest shake afflicted her hand, she managed to make the small
incision between the ribs. Cristian melted into the background.

“He’s not breathing,” Sam said. “Doc, he’s not fucking
breathing.” The controlled panic in his tone echoed through the room.

Digging two fingers into the incision, she said calmly,
“He’s still breathing, Sam, just very shallowly.”

There was a scuffle behind her, but she paid no attention.
Cristian would keep Sam in line until she finished. “Hand me the tubing.”

It landed in her hand and she very carefully inserted it into
the incision. Glancing at Caleb’s chest, she realized it no longer moved.
Please, she prayed, moving the tube around. If she didn’t get it in place soon,
Caleb would die.

Sweat trickled down her back, her throat dry. She couldn’t
lose him.

“Come on,” she pleaded in a whisper, hearing Cristian speak
quietly to Sam in a fierce voice.

“He’s dying.” Sam. Angry. Scared.

Time was running out... Suddenly Caleb drew in a slow, deep
breath and air wooshed out the opposite end of the tube.

“Put the bottle on the floor next to me,” she ordered,
reacting fast. The bottle appeared next to her leg and she threaded the tube
into the other hole she had made until it was immersed in water, creating a
seal. Not ideal, but given the circumstances, it would work.

She rose to her feet and checked Caleb’s vital signs, happy
to see they were returning to normal. He would pull through.

She turned to Sam, who watched in strained silence. “He’s
going to be fine. But you need to get him to a hospital for proper care.”

Tears glistened in Sam’s eyes and he let out a sharp breath.
“You saved his life,” he said gruffly, striding to his brother’s side. “I won’t
forget this, Doc.”

“Let me clean--”

Cristian’s hand on her arm stopped her. When she looked at
him, he shook his head and nudged her toward the door. She quickly pulled off
her gloves and tossed them in the trash before following him out.

“What are you--”

Cristian’s mouth covered hers and cut her off mid-sentence.
His body pressed her back against the door of one of the horse stalls, his hand
cupping the nape of her neck.

Alana sank into him, tasting his desire, and her own. She
kissed him back with equal fervor, having wanted this ever since she woke up
this morning. Last night should have satiated her lust for him, but she wanted
more now, if that were possible.

When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathless.
Dazed, Alana met his eyes, her pulse racing at the hunger she saw there. “What
was that?” she asked, then ran her tongue over her bottom lip so she could taste
him there.

Cristian’s eyes followed the movement and his expression
darkened. “Don’t do that,” he growled.

Emboldened by his response, she did it again, wanting him to
kiss her again.

“Vixen,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “You did great in
there.”

Pride swelled in her chest, giving back some of the
confidence Gavin Ross had stolen from her and allowing her to slow down and
think about what just happened. She wilted against him, resting her head on his
chest, drawing in deep breaths.

“My hands were shaking,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I
could do it.”

“But you did.”

She nodded against his hard chest. “Gavin did that to me,”
she said quietly, admitting it out loud, needing to say it.

Cristian’s hand tightened on the nape of her neck. “Don’t
give him that control, Alana.”

“I can’t help it. Every time I hold a scalpel I remember
what he almost made me do.”

“You didn’t do it.”

“Because you interrupted.” She lifted her head to look him
in the eye. “What if you hadn’t? I would have murdered Dave.”

His eyes darkened. “Nothing good comes out of the what-if’s,
Alana. Nothing. You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking about it. Let it go. You
didn’t do it. Dave is alive.”

“I was going to,” she whispered.

Cristian’s hand moved to cup her chin. “Everyone has a
survival instinct. When our back is against the wall we do whatever it takes to
survive. Even you.”

“That justifies it?” she asked, agonized. She didn’t want to
believe she was like that. Like him. Able to kill. No matter what the
circumstances. “There is no justification for taking a life. I swore an oath,
Cristian. I swore to save lives, not take them. I hold that oath above all
else. It’s what makes me whole.” Or at least it had at one time. A time when
she thought she had it all figured out. Until the pressure of her gift
suffocated her and sent her running to the jungle.

Something flickered in his eyes, but he masked it before she
could read it. His face hardened, becoming unreadable, aloof. He hadn’t
withdrawn in body, but in soul.

“That isn’t what makes you whole, Alana,” he said, stepping
away from her. “Go check on your patient.”

Feeling the sting behind those words, Alana escaped into the
makeshift clinic. Was Cristian right? Did she exist outside of being a doctor
on a remote island where no one knew she practiced without a license because
she’d never finished her internship? Did she exist outside the comfort of
knowing who she was? Because here, she had no idea who that woman should be.

Or where she belonged.

* * * *

Alana watched through the window of the guest bedroom as EMS
drove away with Caleb. For her safety, Cristian and Sam had ordered her to wait
in the house. She’d argued, insisting she be the one to report Caleb’s
information properly to the paramedics, but they vetoed her. Actually, Cristian
threatened to physically remove her from the barn. And she knew he’d do it, so
she’d relented and stalked to the house.

Caleb was stable and doing well, but that wasn’t the point.
She had a responsibility to her patient. They had no right to kick her out when
he needed her the most.

Gavin had done this to her. He’d forced her into hiding and
she hated him for it. Hated living in secret, in fear. Never knowing if Gavin
lurked just around the corner. Always looking over her shoulder. Even here in
the middle of nowhere, she was a target. And it prevented her from doing her
job.

Her job. She didn’t exactly have a job anymore. A sob built
in her throat and she clamped her lips together to stop it. Everything she
loved had been on that island. And now it was gone. Leaving her where?

Here. On a ranch in the middle of nowhere for a night and
then off to Cristian’s penthouse in the city tomorrow. While part of her wanted
to see how Cristian lived, the man outside of the mercenary, the other part
feared the unknown. This was a new life without her father. He’d always been
there. Her rock. She never would have gotten past her mother’s death without
him. How could she do this on her own?

An ache spread through her chest. She tried to rub it away,
but it wouldn’t go. Would it ever?

“Alana?”

Startled, she turned to see Sam standing in the doorway.
Relieved it wasn’t Mercer, she motioned him inside. She hadn’t seen Mercer
since their arrival, not that she minded. She wasn’t in the mood for being put
under a microscope.

“Sam,” she said. “Caleb got off, I see.”

“I’m on my way to the hospital now. I just wanted to thank
you for saving my brother’s life.”

She smiled. “Glad I could help.”

He nodded his head, hesitating.

“Was there something else?” she asked.

After a moment he shook his head. “No. Just…feel free to use
the house.” He turned on a heel and disappeared down the hall, leaving her to
wonder what he’d been about to say. Something was on his mind, but like
Cristian, he didn’t voice it.

Must be a mercenary code. A vow of silence against revealing
too much.

With a sigh, she turned back to the window and stared out at
the rolling green pastures and split-rail fences. This was a beautiful place,
but too quiet. She longed for the noises of the jungle. For her family. Her
home. Grief stabbed through her and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

Wanting some fresh air to clear her head, she left her room
and walked onto the back porch. Cristian and Mercer were on a conference call
with their boss, a man named Gallagher. Just as well, she wanted to be alone
anyway.

She slipped quietly out the back door, walked to one of the
chairs, and sat down, rocking slowly, her eyes on the horizon. It had been a
long time since she’d seen the sunset or sunrise. Here, the sky stretched for
miles and miles, as far as the eye could see. The sky turned vibrant as the sun
sank slowly, alive with reds and oranges that blended together into a beautiful
view.

Night in the jungle came quickly. There was no gentle
change, no mingling of day and night. Until now, she hadn’t known she’d missed
the day’s gentle end. There was a certain serenity in watching the sunset. It
warmed her, offered comfort.

Tipping her face so she could feel the warmth, she closed
her eyes and let it soothe her frayed nerves. It had been a long few days.
Horrible, mostly. Except for the night she’d spent with Cristian.

She sensed more than heard someone sit in the chair next to
her and knew instinctively it was Cristian. He never made a sound when he
walked, but she knew him. On some other level she was afraid to examine.

They had tread lightly around each other since the kiss in
the barn. His words still haunted her and the fact he was giving her space
didn’t settle well either. She didn’t really want space. She wanted him. That
kiss had only fueled the fire burning low and hot inside her.

On edge again, Alana lowered her head and glanced over to
see Cristian lounging in the rocking chair beside her, legs stretched before
him, staring off into the sunset. Cristian never truly relaxed, he only gave
the illusion. The sun softened the harsh lines of his face, making him appear
less intimidating, less intense.

It disturbed her, but she felt attracted to that side of
him. The dangerous, intense, violent, sensual man.

He turned his head to look at her and she knew she was far
from getting over him. His ice blue eyes searched hers, revealing nothing of
his thoughts.

“Are we alone?” she asked.

“Mercer is walking the perimeter.”

And Sam was in town. She rose to her feet, walked to where
he sat and stepped over his legs. Meeting his gaze, she lowered herself onto
his lap and braced her hands on the back of the chair. His legs came up,
rocking her intimately against him.

Her lips parted next to his, not touching, as they rocked
together. It was sensual, erotic. Breathing hard already, she rubbed against
him, loving this mating game. She didn’t have to wonder if he wanted her, it
was evident in his eyes and body. That empowered her.

“Cristian,” she murmured, their breath mingling. “Take me.”

His mouth claimed hers and she was lost. When the kiss
turned primal, Alana tore at the button on his pants, wanting him inside her.
Somehow she got his pants down and hers off far enough she was sliding over
him, taking him inside her with a satisfied gasp. His hands gripped her waist,
digging into her flesh as they set a frantic rhythm together. She met him
thrust for thrust, urging him closer, faster, until they climaxed together.

When she could breathe again, Alana lifted her head and
smiled at Cristian. “That was good,” she said, still slightly breathless. “I
feel better.”

Cristian planted a hard, fast kiss on her lips. “Glad to be
of service.”

She shifted to get more comfortable and felt him growing
hard inside her. Her smile turned wicked. “I just may need your services again.
Meet me upstairs?”

Eyes smoldering, he nodded.

“Give me five minutes.” Alana slid off him. “Don’t be late.”

* * * *

Fool
. Making love to Alana on Ryden’s porch? Why the
hell did he make love to her at all? The first night shouldn’t have happened.
Alana had been vulnerable. This time, he had no excuse. He was addicted to her.
Powerless.

And she damn well knew it.

He shouldn’t have kissed her today, but he’d been so damn
proud of her for overcoming her demons he couldn’t help it. He’d wanted her
then. Would have taken her against the wall if there hadn’t been people around.

Slade rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his pants up.
She was waiting for him. A beautiful, sexy woman who was wild and uninhibited
and damn fun in bed. Sex had always been sex for him. A means to an end. A way
to rid his body of excess adrenaline after a job. He’d never formed
relationships after Mariette. Never found a woman he wanted to have one with.
Mariette was the closest he’d come to real love, but what he felt for Alana was
different. More powerful. More intense.

He wasn’t adept at playing this game. It made him edgy. He
had to stay objective to protect her. This was only a small reprieve from Gavin
Ross. Not the time to take his eye off the ball.