Hard Core (Onyx Group) Page 17

  He left them alone and Alana glanced at Cristian, uncertain herself of the sleeping arrangements. Where did the two of them stand? They’d had one night together, per her request. What came next, she didn’t know. A second later, Cristian answered her question.

  “You take this room. I’ll take the other one.”

  Disappointment made her shoulders slump. Not the answer she wanted, but probably the best one. She didn’t blame Cristian for wanting to keep their...what? There was no they. Nothing to keep secret. One night didn’t make them an item. No matter how much she wanted to sleep next to him.

  “Fine,” she agreed.

  He stood close. So close she could see the stubble growing on his jaw and smell the soap on his skin from his morning shower.

  He was the only constant she had in her life right now and she hated to admit she needed him to be here. Wanted him here. This dark, volatile sensual man with secrets and mysteries she was afraid to unlock who made her feel safe and protected.

  “I’ll give you some time,” he said. “No leaving the house.”

  “Where would I go?” she murmured, watching him stride down the hall and disappear into the room at the end of the hall. Giving her space he assumed she needed. She should be thankful instead of regretful.

  She closed the door and leaned against it, looking around the quaint room. Deciding the quilted covered bed looked inviting, she slipped off her boots, crossed over the hardwood floor onto the off-white rug, and climbed on the bed. Longing for her cot in her hut on the island, she wrapped in the blue and cream quilt and curled into herself, and fell asleep with tears sliding down her cheeks.

  * * * *

  A hard knock woke Alana. She rose to a sitting position and glanced around the strange room, flashing back to her days as an intern. Not a hospital. Sam Ryden’s house. On his ranch.

  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.

  Chapter 16

  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 sti
ll 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.