Relentless (8 page)

Burning. He was dying, screaming in agony as the curling orange-and-red tongues devoured him.

She cried out his name and reached out an arm as if it might help him. The door opened and he fell out. Fire licked over his back and shoulders as he collapsed face down in the snow and lay still.

Not again
, she raged.
I cannot lose him again.

Nearing his prone figure, she threw herself over his back to smother the flames with her body. Her hands were like claws, raking up snow and dirt to throw on him, straining to turn him over. The skin on his neck was blackened and blistered. But his head. Oh, God, it was blown wide open on the right side.

"Rhys, no!” she cried, placing her hands over the gaping wound while his life's blood seeped out, staining the snow crimson. “Don't leave me. Please don't leave me..."

His eyes opened, a startling navy blue. A shiver of foreboding rocketed up her spine.

"Too late,” he said, voice so calm it raised the hair on her nape. “You can't save me."

She could. She had to. She was a surgeon. But she didn't have any medical supplies.

Over the hiss and crackle of the flames she heard the distant thump of an approaching helicopter's rotors. “Stay with me,” she begged, holding his gaze. Help was so close; there would be equipment on board. “Please stay with me.” The screech of the engine was loud now, a shrill cry in her ears.

But Rhys's eyes were staring sightlessly up at her.

Too late. Once again she'd been too late...

Nev's eyes flew open, her heart racing and the alarm blaring its morning greeting next to her head. With a groan, she slapped at it and struggled to calm down, to get her bearings.

Six in the morning. She was in Vancouver, had even spent a few hours with Rhys yesterday and still the damned dream wouldn't leave her in peace.

She'd lain awake until two, then fallen into a fitful sleep, waking twice with her heart hammering in her ears from various nightmares. They always happened in the first few hours after she fell asleep, and they always woke her in a cold sweat.

Sighing, she rolled onto her back and rubbed at her sore, puffy eyes. She needed more sleep, but if she tried now she'd probably sleep right through lunch and into mid-afternoon. Since that was out of the question, she resolved to have a hot shower and go from there.

After crawling out of bed, she pulled back the cream-colored curtain on the wide window, and a soft ray of sunlight greeted her gritty eyes. Over the crisp white tops of the northern mountains, the sun cast its gold and orange rays across the city and over the water, touching it with a million rippling sparkles. Despite her fatigue, a smile pulled at her mouth. November in Vancouver was notoriously rainy, but hardly a cloud marred the azure sky, promising a beautiful fall day.

Glancing the other way, in the distance she spotted people walking and jogging around the seawall in Stanley Park. Rhys had driven her past the park last night on the way back to the hotel. The remaining leaves were ablaze in gorgeous shades of russet and amber, made even more brilliant by the tall stands of evergreen cedars, firs and hemlocks filling the park.

Back home in New York, she ran at least three times a week in Central Park. A run around the seawall breathing in the salty air and admiring the spectacular natural scenery Vancouver had to offer seemed like the best idea she'd had in a long time.

Opting to skip the shower for now, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then changed into her workout gear and grabbed a banana from her purse. Swallowing the last bite, she was about to walk out the door when a nagging unease stopped her, something she carried with her now when she left her “safe zone.” Just another souvenir she'd picked up in Afghanistan. Was it safe for her to go out for a run alone here?

The instant she thought it she rolled her eyes at herself. Vancouver was a hell of a lot safer than New York City, and if she could run in Central Park, she'd manage here. Still, she eyed the clock on the nightstand. Pretty early, but maybe Mike was up. They hadn't met for dinner because his flight had been delayed by a few hours.

Instead, she'd taken a hot bath and climbed into bed to read her book on Delta Force. Three chapters in, a loud boom had sent the book flying and her heart leaping into her throat. Worried there'd been an explosion, she'd called down to the front desk and the woman who answered told her not to worry, it was only the nine o'clock gun sounding across Coal Harbor from the hotel.

Nev guessed the hotel must not have many guests suffering from PTSD like she was, or they might have warned her about it when she'd checked in.

Stretching up on her toes, she thought again of Mike. He was usually an early riser, and he liked to keep in shape, so maybe he'd run with her. Before she could change her mind, she picked up the phone and called his room at the Pan Pacific across the street. He accepted the invitation, sounding wide awake. She met him in the Pan lobby ten minutes later, dressed in yoga pants, a fleece jacket and her runners.

Mike smiled when he saw her, but his warm brown eyes looked tired. “Morning,” he said, giving her a hug.

“Glad you could join me.” She stepped back.

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell wasn't sleeping, so this beats staring at the clock.”

“We could start a support group for insomniacs,” she offered.

“We could,” he agreed, “if that was our only problem.”

“Good point.” They both had major psychological hang-ups since Afghanistan, but Nev still thought she was recovering faster than him. “How are things, anyway?” she ventured.

Mike held the door open for her and they stepped out onto the sidewalk, breathing in the crisp, clean air scented with fall leaves and the overnight rain. “I'm... the same. You?”

“Better.” She told herself that every day. Each day she got closer to returning to normal. At least that's what she was trying to convince herself of.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a dark-haired man dressed in a light gray pullover approaching them. Something about him instantly made her uneasy. His features were Middle Eastern, maybe that's why he'd caught her attention, but there was more to it than that. He had shades on, so she couldn't see his eyes as he came abreast of them, yet she knew without a doubt he was watching her. And not in a friendly, curious way.

She barely repressed a shiver as he passed, and couldn't help glancing at him over her shoulder. She turned to Mike. “Let's go.”

They took a cab from the hotel to the entrance of the park, and got out at the yacht club. Walking for a bit to warm up, she eyed the nine o'clock gun with annoyance as they passed it.

Breaking into a light jog, their shoes made soft slapping sounds against the damp pavement. The seawall was busier than she'd expected for this time of day, full of people out taking advantage of the mild fall weather.

At a steady pace, they wove through walkers, other joggers, and people on Rollerblades. Cars swished past slowly on their left, along with cyclists. Beyond Coal Harbor to their right, out in Burrard Inlet freighters and tankers lay on the calm water silhouetted against the rising sun. Ahead of them, the sharp points of the Lion's ears on the North Shore Mountains were tipped white with freshly fallen snow.

What a place to run. “Isn't it beautiful?” she said after a few minutes.

“Sure is,” Mike responded. “Thanks for the invite. I needed this.”

“Glad to be of service.” A while later up the path they came to a statue of what she thought was a mermaid, but drawing closer she realized it was a girl wearing a wetsuit poised on a rock in the water. Her bronze shoulders glimmered in the morning sunlight. Nev stopped a moment to stretch her right hamstrings.

“Keeps cramping up on me,” she muttered. She set her heel on a bench and leaned forward at the waist, breathing into the stretch as she held it.

Glancing up, with a shock she recognized the man she'd seen on the sidewalk, lounging against the seawall up ahead. He was in profile to her, but she still sensed he was watching her.

The back of her thigh twinged in protest as she quickly dropped her leg. Her pulse leapt, gut instinct telling her something was off. Was he following them? Watching them?

“That's twice I've seen that guy this morning,” she said to Mike. “He's giving me the creeps.”

Mike peered past her shoulder, frowning. “What guy?”

“That guy,” she said, exasperated, and turned her head. She froze.

He was gone. In those few seconds she'd turned her attention to Mike, he'd disappeared. Unease buzzed in the pit of her stomach. She pressed a hand over it, her banana squishing around uncomfortably. Whoever the guy was, he could be anywhere now.

“It's probably nothing,” Mike said. “We're just both overly paranoid since we got home.”

Maybe. She might be over-reacting. But she couldn't ignore her nervous system's innate warning. Some part of her recognized possible danger, and since Afghanistan, she'd learned not to ignore the subconscious messages.

If she was paranoid, so be it, but she wouldn't be taken unawares again. Not like in Kabul. “Maybe we should head back.”

Mike studied her for a moment, hands on hips. “You really that spooked?”

She stared back, lifting her chin. “I just want to be cautious.”

“Okay. Let's go, then.” They turned back and resumed their jog.

The whole way back to the park entrance Nev sensed the weight of a stare pressing against her spine. But by the time the conference got going at nine, she was on her third cup of coffee and feeling secure again. People filled the large meeting room, and though the crowd made her edgy because she felt the constant need to scan for trouble, she hadn't glimpsed the man from the park once.

The opening speaker left her inspired and glad she'd chosen to come. Her experiences, though horrific, only served to underline how desperate the need for medical care in Afghanistan really was. Now if she could just get past the constant sense of unease that came from being on the lookout for possible threats, she might actually enjoy herself.

“Which lecture are you going to?” Mike asked her during the break, rifling through his information packet in the bright blue binders they'd been given.

“I want to hear the neurosurgery one.”

He closed his binder and looked at her with a sigh. “Why, because you want to torment yourself with the possibility you didn't do something exactly right on your one and only neurological patient?”

She shrugged. “I just want to go.”

“He's alive and functioning near a hundred percent,” Mike said quietly. “I'd say you did everything right.”

“I didn't do much of anything. The neurosurgeon did most of the work.”

“Yeah? And who kept him alive during the flight to the hospital and operated the crash cart when he flatlined— twice?”

She had, but that didn't matter. She needed know if there was something else she could have done or something she'd missed. Nev narrowed her eyes at Mike. “Let it go.”

“Right after you, sweetheart.”

“Doctor Adams.”

She stared at Mike for another second before spinning around to address the speaker, finding a conference organizer gesturing for her to come over. She went to him and the Middle Eastern-looking man standing next to him, scolding herself for the apprehension that gripped her. She would not be reduced to bigotry because of her fear.

When she got close enough, she held out a hand and put on a smile. “Hello.”

The organizer accepted the handshake and nodded to the other man. “This is Doctor Shirani,” he said. “I mentioned him to you when we spoke last.”

Her smile brightened. “Yes, hello, Doctor. It's a pleasure to meet you. I was just telling my colleague how much I was looking forward to your lecture.”

Shirani returned her grip and flashed even, white teeth. “The pleasure is all mine, Doctor Adams. I've been looking forward to hearing your speech since they listed you as the keynote.” His eyes were a deep, rich brown, intense and full of intelligence. “We are grateful that you would honor us with your experience here at the conference. I'm only sorry you suffered such terrible things during your time in Afghanistan.”

“Yes, well, I'm making the best of it.”

Admiration filled his expression. “I'm glad. I've heard from various sources that you gained some experience with a flap craniectomy over there.”

“Yes, but I only assisted. It was a miracle the patient survived transport to the hospital, let alone that a neurosurgeon just happened to be there on rotation.”

“An amazing story. Did the patient recover sufficiently?”

“Almost fully.” Though probably not to his satisfaction.

“Incredible.” He gazed at her fondly, almost like an approving parent. “I'm sure he has your skill and quick thinking to thank.”

“I'm afraid I can't take credit for that. I think some higher power was at work that night.”

Shirani's eyes grew even more intense. “Yes, God works in mysterious ways.”

Did He ever. If she ever got the chance to see Him, she had a long list of questions to ask.

“Come have lunch with me after the lecture,” Shirani invited, “and we'll talk more about it. I'm interested to hear more about your story.”

“I'd like that.” If he could assure her she'd done everything humanly possible to help Rhys, then maybe she could cut herself some slack.

As though reading her thoughts, Mike raised a mocking brow at her.

Shirani glanced at his watch and offered another smile. “I'll see you soon then.”

“You bet.”

Mike clapped a hand on her shoulder as Shirani walked away. “Well there you go. You just got the nod from one of the top neurosurgeons in the world.” His mahogany eyes were full of understanding. “Think you can quit beating yourself up now?”

Neveah smiled sweetly. “Right after you, sweetheart.”

Finishing up the last set of bench presses, Rhys's pecs were on fire and his triceps were screaming, from both the weights and the push-ups he always did when he got out of bed every morning.