Healing Love: Saints Protection & Investigation (8 page)

“Right,” Marc answered. “Good luck and let me hear as soon as you can.”

With that the two men disconnected. Allowing the breeze to continue to blow on his face, cooling the sweat that had been pouring off of him, Cam felt the first sense of freedom in a week. Knowing Miriam had to be feeling the shackles of imprisonment, he wanted that sense of freedom for her too. And wanted to be the one to give it to her.

*

Miriam started her
morning managing to get Sister Genovia alone, wanting to question her further about the events of last night. Finding the older woman in the supply tent counting the stock, she picked up a bag of makeshift bandages and began to sort them.

Whispering, she asked, “What happened last night?”

“It appears the doctor and the…man in charge…were seeking female companionship and hoping to impress us at the same time.”

Miriam’s eyes grew wide as she stared dumbly at the nun. “Female companionship? Their wives were with them.”

“With these men, the bounds of marriage mean little. And their wives are quite content to be taken care of.”

“But…but…”

“And the dinner was an exhibition of their wealth. And power.”

“But why?” Miriam asked, her confusion even greater than before.

Sister Genovia turned to her, a kind expression on her face. “My dear, I have worked among these men for a while. It was my calling to bring God’s grace to whomever I could and if I could save anyone from the clutches of their evil…then that is what I have tried to do.”

Miriam looked down at the bandages as a guard walked passed the door to the tent. As she heard him move by, she turned her questioning gaze back to the nun.

“I am not a threat, my child. They know that. I am protected by the veil and they know I will not try to escape. Nor am I impressed by their wealth or power. Those earthly, ill-gotten gains mean nothing to me. But having me along with you last night gave the illusion that it was just a friendly meal.”

“But they kidnapped us. They keep us under lock and key!” Miriam whispered harshly. “How can they think we want to be captives?”

“Look around. Are we not kept safe by the men with guns at our door? Are we not fed better than the workers? You see, in their minds, we are being treated well and as a reward for our service here for the cartel, they are willing to bestow upon you some of their wealth. And if you become a mistress to someone higher up at the same time…so much the better for them.”

Miriam dropped the bundle, clutching the table in front of her until her knuckles were white. Feeling light-headed, she sucked in a huge breath letting it out slowly. “This is madness,” she barely whispered.

She felt Sister Genovia’s hand cover hers and squeeze. “Yes, but this is the madness they live in.”

Miriam turned her face back to the older woman and said, “What do I do?”

She felt the nun’s piercing gaze and held it. Never wavering.

Sister Genovia nodded. “That’s good. You’re not enticed by the lure of what is here. Sharon is. You cannot persuade her differently and do not try. Leave that to me. They will expect it of me but will look suspiciously at you if you try to talk her out of the path she has decided to go on. But,” she squeezed Miriam’s hand for emphasis, “do no talk in front of Sharon. She will quickly become an informant if she thinks it will make her road easier. For now, take care of Lorainne. She is ill and becoming weaker. Do what you’re told and keep your wits about you.”

Lickings her lips nervously, Miriam nodded and then turned her sad gaze back to the nun’s. “I’m never leaving, am I? I’ll never see my family again, will I?” She battled the tears threatening to fall, blinking furiously.

Another squeeze. “My child, you never know what God has in store for us. But I pray for your deliverance and the deliverance of the others.”

“It would take a miracle,” Miriam whispered, beginning to feel that there were no miracles in store for her.

Smiling, Sister Genovia replied, “Miracles happen. And I have a feeling that one is just waiting for you.”

A guard stuck his head into the tent and the two women quickly began counting the bandage rolls once more. Gathering some in her arms, she walked briskly by the guard and into the infirmary tent, seeing Ernesto and Sharon standing very close together. Sharon was leaning close to the handsome doctor and his eyes were on the woman. Remembering the words of the nun, Miriam gave them a quick smile and continued into the next room.

Please God. I need that miracle.
But until it came, she bent over the exam table and began helping the next ill worker.

*

Miriam heard the
noise of a truck pulling up outside and men shouting. Wanting to be as far away from the commotion as possible, she moved toward the back while continuing to check on patients. Pushing her damp hair away from her sweaty face, she bent over the worker who had been retching most of the night. From the looks of him, he might not live through the day.

Dr. Villogas moved beside her and bent over the patient as well, his body too close to hers for comfort.

“I hope you enjoyed the dinner last night,” he said, turning his handsome smile toward her. “Mr. Guzman and I were thrilled to have such company.”

“It was lovely,” she commented. “I hope we did not put your wives out too much.”

The only thing that gave away his surprise at her comment was the flash of irritation that moved through his eyes.

“Not at all. Our wives are very…accommodating that way.”

Forcing a smile on her face, she just nodded.

“We would love to have you join us again sometime,” he said, his voice smooth.

She looked across the room catching Sharon’s gaze on her and was trying to think of an answer when she was saved by the yelling from a guard at the door.

Dr. Villagas and she moved to the outside of the tent where a large truck parked, two men in the back being loaded onto stretchers and being brought inside. The doctor immediately moved with the ill and Miriam stayed behind hoping to put some distance between she and him for as long as possible.

Her eyes turned back to the truck, the acrid smell of vomit emanating from the bed of the vehicle. That was when she noticed the driver. How could she not notice him? Compared to most men around, he was huge. Taller than her brother who was six feet, two inches tall, he was built like one of the football players she would see when Jobe dragged her to college games. His black hair curled over his ears and down his neck. His olive skin was covered in the same dust that coated the truck. He had a few days scruff on his face, needing a good shave to go along with a haircut. His cargo pants were muddy at bottom as well as his boots caked in the clay. Other men around seemed to be giving the driver a wide berth, probably wondering if he were going to become sick as well. As her eyes moved back up his enormous frame, she was startled to see that he was staring. At her. Directly at her.

C
am could not
believe his luck…or fate.
How the hell did I manage to pull up to the exact infirmary tent that she’s at?

He looked away quickly, but not before she had noticed him. Her face, having been committed to memory from the photograph, was now forever burned into his soul from seeing her in person. The family resemblance to Jobe was noticeable, but she was more beautiful in person.

Long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Clean hospital scrubs that did not hide the curves beneath. Her complexion was marred by the dark circles underneath her eyes and he quickly ascertained that she was several pounds thinner than her latest photograph. Her eyes landed on his and before he looked away, he saw the flash of curiosity…as well as fear…in her expression.

Placing his hand over his stomach, he received the desired response of the others moving away. Since no one knew what might be wrong with the agents he brought in, he hoped to keep the others away as well.

Miriam noticed the driver as he swayed slightly and she instinctively moved toward him. Pulling out clean gloves from her pocket, she snapped them on quickly before approaching him. Standing closely, she leaned her head way back to look into his face, noting the grime kept her from telling if he were pale or flushed.

“Are you alright? Do you need to lie down?” Speaking in the broken Spanish that she was picking up.

He grunted his response, “
Sí
.”

Nodding, she placed her hand on his arm to lead him inside the tent, immediately noting the muscles bunching underneath her fingertips. Feeling a tingle travel up her arm, she quickly removed her hand. “Come,” she said, waving her hand in the universal sign to follow. She moved inside the tent, hearing him directly behind her. Just as she was about to give him one of the free beds, Dr. Villogas approached.

He spoke to Cam in rapid Spanish while Miriam stood by in confusion. She watched as the two men’s eyes moved over to the agents and she realized that the driver was being questioned as to what had happened.

She turned her attention to Dr. Villogas as he finished talking to see what his instructions were.

“He says the men came to the camp and became ill, throwing up. I’m putting them in quarantine until we know exactly what’s going on.”

“What about this man?” she asked, wondering where to put him.

“He’ll need quarantining also, but not here. Not with the agents.”

She had seen the hierarchy of care given to the ill and injured. The cartel’s higher echelon members were given priority and treated at one of the buildings that had been turned over for their medical care. The lower members were treated at the makeshift infirmaries. And the workers from the fields…the lowest of care was given.

Biting her tongue, she said, “But he’s been here, so if he’s carrying something shouldn’t we treat him here? Why send him somewhere else where he could spread an infection?”

She saw the thoughts churning in Dr. Villogas’ mind so she pressed her suit further. “He did just possibly save the lives of two agents. I’d hate to see that go unrewarded and have him end up spreading his disease elsewhere.”

Finally giving a terse nod, Dr. Villogas agreed. “Put him in the back of the tent. No, there’s a spare tent behind this one. Put him in there. If he’s well, that’ll be good enough. If he becomes sick, he’s still away from the rest of us. And if he dies, so be it.”

With that, he turned and stalked away and it did not miss Miriam’s attention that Sharon was right where the doctor was heading.

She did not realize how long she had been standing, staring at the retreating doctor’s back when a voice directly behind her startled her.

“
Señorita
?”

Jumping, she looked back up at Cam and saw him sway slightly. “
Perdón
. I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Come,” she said once more, this time leading him around to the back of the tent.

Cam could not believe his luck.
Jesus, if this will only last,
he thought. For right now, he was going to get a tent to himself and access to this woman.
Gotta make this work. Gotta get this right.

He followed her to the small tent and passed her as she stood holding the door flap open. He stepped inside before turning to stare at her once more. It appeared that she had gone into nurse-efficiency-zone.

“Clean clothes for you. Put them on,” she spoke haltingly, holding up a pair of drawstring pants and t-shirt. “
La ropa
,” she reiterated, as he took the clothes from her hands.

Sliding his fingers along hers, he noticed her jerking her eyes up to his as her brow knit in confusion.
Fuck, she’s gonna think I’m a pervert,
he realized as she backed up a step. Keeping his gaze neutral, he watched as she relaxed slightly.

She walked over to a plastic bowl on a small table and picked up a bath cloth, handing it to him as well. “
Lavar
,” she said, motioning to the large water jug next to the bed, indicating for him to wash. She turned and walked to the door flap, before looking over her shoulder again. “
Cinco minutos
,” she said softly, indicating that she would be back in five minutes, before walking out and letting the tent flap wave in her wake.