скачать книгу бесплатно
Houston slowly straightened, his gaze never leaving hers. “You still think I engineered this whole thing to get you down to Lima, don’t you?” He’d give anything to make her realize he was innocent of this. But the look in her eyes told him differently.
“There’s no question in my mind about that,” Ann growled back.
“For what possible purpose?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Surprised, Ann placed her hands on her knees. “Why, the obvious one, Major.”
“What? That I like you? That I admire your brains, your gutsiness? I made no bones about that when we worked together up north.” He’d have said more, but people were looking in their direction. Even now he would protect Ann from prying eyes and ears.
“And I’m sure those aren’t the only things about me you admired,” Ann sputtered, feeling heat move up her neck and into her face. She felt uneasy talking about the attraction between them, but dammit, there was no denying it! Oh, she was blushing! Of all the times to blush!
Houston forced himself to lean back in his seat, a mirthless smile slashing across the hard planes of his face. The pain and raw need he felt for her were mixed with anger and frustration. He’d never expected Ann to assault him like this. “And here I thought you were without imagination, Ann. I was wrong, I guess, wasn’t I?”
The innuendo struck her full force. Ann saw and felt his derisive laughter as he tilted his head back and allowed the low, growling sound to escape from his throat. She had that coming and she knew it.
“You know what, Doctor?”
She met his ruthless gaze. “What?”
“I have a really tough time thinking you’re not a machine. I’ve seen a lot of medicos in my lifetime, but none of them came across as icy and brittle as you. I heard Morgan say you were one of the best. Well, you’re going to have to prove that to me. I won’t allow you to step a foot in that clinic with your kind of by-the-book bedside manner. I’ve seen it for eight weeks now, and I’m certainly not going to subject two nuns who work tirelessly for the poor to your iceberg tactics. As a matter of fact, I don’t think you’ve allowed yourself to be human for a helluva long time. You’re happy in your little ivory tower. That’s fine. Down there at the clinic, we’re all touchers and huggers, and you’ll probably misread that, too. Some of the children coming in are orphans off the street, abandoned because their parents were unable to feed one more mouth. Those kids get a lot of hugs, embraces and love showered on them by the three of us.”
With a shake of his head, Houston rasped, “And if Miss Anglo with her highfalutin Harvard medical degree thinks she’s stepping into our humble abode like the proverbial Ice Queen to order us poor half-breeds and stupid Indians around like we’re brainless, she has another think coming. No, I don’t want you down in Lima with me, if the truth be known, Ann. Not like this. I’m used to working with people who have heart, who have a passion for living life and who aren’t afraid to show their vulnerability. Do me a favor? When you get off this flight, stay at the airport. I’ll make sure you get the very next flight back to the States.”
Chapter 3
By the time their jet touched down at Lima’s international airport, it was 0600. Pink touched the rim of the horizon, and ordinarily, Mike would have enjoyed the spectacle of color set against the darkness of the Andes mountains, where Lima sat loftily overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Disgruntled, unable to sleep and generally grouchy because of his head-on clash with Ann, he strode off the plane. His heart ached with grief over the loss of the trust he’d forged with her on the ranch. How could he have fallen so helplessly and hopelessly in need of her in two short months? Maybe he was more lonely than he realized. But it was more than loneliness, he realized. He knew now that he wasn’t the kind of man who could go through life without a good woman at his side. The tragedy and loss he had endured in his past had told him he had no right to ever try and reach out and love again. Mike never expected to find love again—nor did he want to. He’d always thought of himself as a doomed man. Because of his dangerous lifestyle, he’d always known it was just a matter of time until his body became meat for buzzards. And then Ann Parsons had walked into his life and he’d begun to dream once more of happiness. What a fool he was.
The dark smudges under Ann’s glorious eyes told him she didn’t feel much better than he did. Dammit, he wanted to apologize for some of the things he’d said to her in anger earlier. Somehow, she got to him, and he lost his normal ability to hold on to his temper. Great. Just great. More than anything, Mike didn’t want to leave her with hurtful feelings between them. Ann deserved better than that. He owed it to her to make amends and try to heal the bad blood between them.
Slowing his gait, he waited for her to catch up. One nice thing about first class was that they were off the plane first. He slung the black canvas knapsack he always carried with him over his left shoulder. As Ann approached, he saw that her dark hair was in mild disarray, and he had the maddening urge to reach over and comb his fingers through the thick, gleaming strands, which shimmered with highlights of gold and red. Better not, he warned himself. She’ll take my hand off at the elbow. And then he grinned carelessly. He knew it would be worth it, because she’d once allowed him the privilege of sliding his fingers through her silky hair in one of their stolen moments—in the heat of a hungry, searching kiss.
Once Ann was beside him, he continued toward the terminal. Even at this time of morning, Lima airport was busy. Mike wasn’t surprised. Peru’s capital was a twenty-four-hours-a-day city. It was cosmopolitan, upscale and surging ahead because of the influence of Japanese investors and the huge population of Japanese people who had left their island home to settle here. They brought money into the economy, and over the years Lima had become the third largest enclave of Japanese in the world. Only São Paulo, Brazil, had a larger population outside Japan.
As he stepped into the terminal, he saw a huge crowd of people waiting for folks to disembark from their flight. Too bad he didn’t have a special somebody waiting for him. Someone like Ann. Hell, he had too much of the romantic left in him. Or maybe being with a woman he was so drawn to had stirred up that vat of loneliness he’d stuffed deep down inside of him. No, the army was his only wife, and this was one time he was regretting that dictate. Well, it didn’t matter anyway, because Ann didn’t want him. And if she hadn’t before, she sure as hell didn’t now after his stupid, stupid remarks to her in the heat of their argument on board the aircraft.
At customs Mike dropped easily into Spanish, Lima’s main language. Japanese was a close second and one that he’d mastered with a lot of difficulty over the years because of his position with the Peruvian government. He remained on guard, always looking around. Now that he was back on Peruvian soil, he had to be alert or he could be killed. The young lady behind the desk, obviously Castilian Spanish with her golden skin, thin proud features, black eyes and shining black hair, smiled at him. Mike felt a little better just seeing a pleasant expression on someone’s face for a change.
At the check-in desk, he launched into conversation with the ticketing agent about a van that was due to bring the medical supplies, to be carried in on the next flight. In the meantime, he saw Ann halt a few feet away and observe the busy, crowded terminal. She didn’t look like a doctor in that moment. No, just a very thin, tired woman. His conscience ate at him big-time. Thanking the agent, Mike turned and sauntered over to where she stood just outside of the streams of people coming and going in the terminal.
“I’ve never been to Lima,” Ann confessed without looking up at him. “This airport reminds me of the Chicago terminal—huge, bustling and busy twenty-four hours a day. I just never imagined it.” Mike’s presence, especially in the fog of her exhaustion, was overwhelming to her. Ann felt herself seesawing between going with him to the clinic and remaining at the terminal to catch the next flight back to the States. She saw the anguish in his dark eyes, the fatigue clearly marked on his own hard features, and felt a wonderful blanket of protection and care settle around her. She knew that feeling came from being with him. She tried to tell herself that his care didn’t mean anything. However, she was too tired to fight the truth of what she felt emanating from him. And she knew the rawness she felt in her chest was her own longing for him.
She’d had a long time on their flight to feel her way through her jangled feelings, her confusion, her fear and her needs. Although she lay in her chair, her eyes closed, Ann hadn’t slept because she’d been too upset. How had she come to feel so much for Mike while at the ranch? How? No matter what she did, the answer didn’t seem forthcoming. Ann had sworn never to fall for a man again…not with her bad track record. How had Mike eased himself into her life? Was it that boyish smile he flashed at her in unexpected moments, always catching her off guard? Was it his obvious passion for living life fully and for the moment? That dancing glint in his eyes that broadcast such warmth and tenderness toward her every time he looked at her? His hot, searching kisses? The way he touched her, fanning coals of passion into wildly flaring flames? It was more than sexual, Ann admitted darkly. She liked Mike. His integrity. His continued efforts to help the poor and defend them. She approved of his morals and values. There was nothing, really, not to like about Mike Houston, she sourly admitted. Absolutely nothing. Except for the mystery she felt around him—that mystical quality she couldn’t pinpoint with her razor-honed intellect. Not all the academic degrees in the world could outfit her to deal with someone like Houston.
“Maybe,” Mike growled, despite his attempt to take the sting out of his tone, “if you give Peru half a chance, she’ll seduce you like she did me when I came here more than a decade ago.” He heaved an inner sigh of relief. At least Ann was talking civilly to him once again. But then, she hadn’t slept, either, so he knew she was probably feeling more like a walking zombie right now and the blame game was low on her list of priorities.
Pointing toward where they had to walk to get to the baggage claim area, he added, “They call Lima the Jewel of the Pacific. The city sits up on the slopes of the lower Andes and looks out over the dark blue Pacific Ocean. The first time I came here, I didn’t know what to expect. My mother had told me many, many stories of Lima, and how beautiful it was—the apartments that had flower boxes on their balconies and the trees that made the city look more like a park than a maze of steel-and-glass sentinels. She loved this city.” Mike risked a glance down at Ann. Even though she was a good five feet nine inches tall, she was still short in comparison to him.
She refused to look up at him. The way her full lips were pursed told him that he’d hurt her earlier with his nasty, spiteful comments. Ruthlessly, Houston absorbed her aristocratic profile. She had high cheekbones, like his Indian ancestors did. With another sigh, he dropped his gaze to her pursed lips once more. To hell with it. Somehow, he had to change things so that they parted on good terms at least. He took a deep breath, reached out and gripped her arm gently, forcing her to look at him.
“Listen,” he muttered darkly as her expression changed to one of shock as he touched her, “I’m sorry for what I said to you on the plane. It wasn’t right and—”
A cry for help halfway down the terminal ripped through the early morning air. People began to slow down or hurry a little faster.
Scowling, Mike dropped his hand from Ann’s arm, instantly alert. “Now what?” he growled.
Ann looked in direction of the sound. She could hear a woman sobbing and screaming for help. She saw Mike Houston peering above the heads of the crowd. “You’re taller than I am,” she exclaimed. “What do you see? What’s going on?”
Grimacing, he glanced down at her. “Someone’s in trouble. Medical trouble. Come on….” He took off in long, loping strides.
“Mike! Wait!” Ann hurried to catch up. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man and he cut a swathe through the crowds in the airport terminal. She wasn’t so lucky and was stopped repeatedly. As she hurried along in his wake, she found herself admiring the way he ran, with a boneless, swift grace that reminded her of a large cat. Perhaps a cougar loping along silently, yet with remarkable power. Other people seemed to sense it, too, for Houston was never elbowed, stopped, nor did he have to change direction. No, the masses parted for him like the Red Sea had for Moses. Ann realized she was witnessing that impenetrable mystery about him in action now. No wonder they called him the jaguar god.
Mike’s eyes widened as he made his way through the large circle of people that had formed. In the middle was a woman crying hysterically. A young woman, very pretty, well-heeled and dressed in a purple business suit. He knew her well. It was Elena Valdez, wife of Antonio Valdez, one of the most prominent and powerful businessmen in Lima. What the hell was happening?
“Step aside,” Mike growled, opening a path to where Elena stood sobbing, her fists against her mouth. She was from one of the old aristocratic families of Peru, of pure Castilian blood. Normally aloof and serene, her mascaraed eyes were running dark streaks like war paint down her cheeks, her red lips contorted as she stared down at the floor. Mike followed her wild, shocked gaze.
“Antonio!” he rasped. Houston suddenly spun on his heel and roared at the crowd, “Give us room!”
Miraculously, everyone took a number of steps back widening the circle. There on the floor, ashen and unmoving, was Antonio Valdez. The thousand-dollar, dark blue pinstripe suit he wore went with the short, sleek black hair combed back on his narrow skull. His red silk tie looked garish next to his pasty flesh as Mike sank to his knees.
“Antonio—Tony!” He gripped the businessman’s shoulder. The man did not respond. Sensing Ann’s presence, Mike snapped his head up as he placed two fingers against the man’s neck.
“Cardiac arrest,” he stated shortly. “No pulse…” He leaned down, his ear close to the man’s nose. “No breath.” He jabbed at his backpack, which he’d dropped nearby. “There’s a bag-valve mask in there. Get it. An OPA, too.” He ripped at the man’s tie, the silk of his shirt giving way under the power of Mike’s efforts. Then he tipped the man’s head back to create an airway. He heard Elena sobbing wildly.
“Oh, Mike! Mike! Antonio was just walking with me. Everything was fine. Fine! And suddenly…suddenly he grew very pale and groaned. He collapsed, mi amigo. Oh, Mike! Help him! Help him!”
Jerking the tie from Tony’s neck, Houston shot a glance at Ann, who was on her knees, digging furiously in his backpack. All the tiredness, the cloudy look in her eyes, had dissolved. When she looked up, protective green latex gloves in hand, he reached out and took them. With expert swiftness, he donned them. “Get the goggles, too. If he vomits, I don’t want it in our eyes.”
“Right!” Ann handed him a pair of plastic goggles. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed the white OPA, a plastic device known as an oropharyngeal airway, into the patient’s mouth. This device would keep his tongue from falling back and blocking his breathing passage once they started pumping air into his lungs.
Ann grabbed the bag-valve mask and moved once more to the man’s head. She knelt and settled the translucent, soft plastic mask over his face. The mask was attached to the blue, oval-shaped rubber bag that would start pumping air into him.
Mike watched her get into position. She leaned over the man, ready.
“Have you got paramedics posted here at the terminal?” she demanded, squeezing the appliance.
“Hell, no.” Mike looked up and barked at a younger man dressed in business clothes. “You! Get to a white phone! Call security for help. Tell them we’ve got a cardiac case in terminal three. Tell them to call an ambulance, pronto!”
“Sí, sí!” the man shouted, and he turned and worked his way through the crowd.
“Okay, let’s get on it,” Ann whispered.
Mike appreciated her cool efficiency as he knelt on the other side of Antonio and placed his hands just below the man’s sternum. He laid his large palm flat against his chest, then nodded in her direction. “Give ’em air. Two breaths.”
“I know CPR.”
He heard the warning clip of her voice. Scowling, he concentrated on his part of the two-person procedure. After two breaths, he leaned over Tony and delivered a powerful downward push over the sternum. The heart lay under that long, flat bone that held the rib cage together.
In moments, they were working like a well-oiled team. Houston forgot the pandemonium around them, forgot Elena’s sobbing. He counted to himself, his mouth thinned, his nostrils flaring.
Two minutes into the process, he rasped, “Stop CPR.” Anxiously, he placed his fingers against Antonio’s neck.
“No pulse.” He leaned down, praying for the man to at least be breathing. “No breath.”
“Do you know him?”
Houston gave a jerky nod as he repositioned his hands. “Yes. Start CPR.”
Ann squeezed the bag-valve mask, delivering a long, slow dose of oxygen into the man’s chest cavity. She saw the patient’s wife kneel down at his feet, sobbing and praying. She was so young and pretty—she couldn’t be more than in her late twenties.
“How old is he?”
“Forty-five.”
“Perfect age for a CA.”
“Yeah, isn’t it, though?” Mike continued to push down on the man’s chest again and again. He kept looking at Tony’s color. “Damn, this isn’t working.”
“How long before an ambulance arrives with a defibrillator machine?”
“Too long,” he muttered. “Too damn long. Stop CPR. We’re going to do something different.”
Ann watched as Houston jerked the shirt completely away from the man’s chest. She saw him ball up his fist. She knew what he was going to do. In the absence of a defibrillator, which with an electrical shock could jolt the heart into starting again, a medic could strike the sternum with a fist. Sometimes, though rarely, the hard, shocking blow would get the heart restarted. It was risky. She noted the strain on Mike’s face, the glistening sweat on his wrinkled brow. His eyes had turned a dark, stormy blue, and she knew all his focus was on his abilities as a paramedic, despite the many other emotions he had to be feeling.
“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked, holding the man’s head steady as Mike prepared to strike his chest.
“Yes. A damn good friend. God, I hope this works,” he said.
Mike measured where his fist would strike the man’s sternum. He gripped Tony’s shoulder to hold him in place. Raising his arm, he smashed his fist downward in a hard arc. Flesh met flesh. He heard his friend’s sternum crack loudly beneath his assault.
“Come on! Come on!” Houston snarled as he gripped the man’s lifeless shoulders and shook him hard. “Damn you, Tony!” he breathed into the man’s graying face, “don’t you dare die on me!” He put his fingers against his neck.
“Nothing,” he growled.
“Do it again,” Ann ordered in a hushed tone. She saw the fear in Houston’s eyes.
“He’s dumping on us….”
“I don’t care. It’s all we got! Hit him again!”
For a split second, Ann met his distraught eyes. And then he balled his fist again. Once the sternum was broken there was a danger that any further strikes to jolt the heart could create lacerations in the liver and possibly the heart itself, from fragments of bone that had been broken by the first blow. Antonio could bleed to death as a result.
“You mean son of a bitch,” Houston growled at Tony as he raised his fist. “You live! You hear me?” Then he brought his fist down just as hard as the first time.
The man’s whole body jarred and jerked beneath the second blow. Ann held the man’s head and neck in alignment and continued to pump oxygen into him. She watched as Mike leaned over to check for pulse and breathing. Whether it was because she was already numb with tiredness and drained emotionally, she didn’t know, but for a split second as he leaned down, snarling in Spanish at his friend, she thought she was seeing things.
Houston’s growling voice wasn’t human any longer. It sounded to her like a huge jungle cat. It shocked her, the primal, sound reverberating through every pore in her body as he leaned over and shook Antonio. She sensed an energy in the air, pummeling her repeatedly like wildly racing ocean waves. She realized it was emanating from Houston as he leaned over Antonio, almost willing him to breathe again.
“You’re not dying on me,” he rasped, striking him even harder than before, in the center of the chest. “Live! Live, you hear me?”
Ann blinked belatedly. As Houston struck the man a third time, she knew she was seeing things. His head disappeared, and in its place she saw the golden face of a jaguar or leopard, black crescent spots against gold fur. She was hallucinating! Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and opened them again. Mike was leaning over his friend, his fingers pressed insistently against his neck. My God, what was happening? What was she seeing? For the first time, Ann clearly realized that she was on a mission with an incredibly attractive man whose power was beyond her own rational mind.
“Tony!” he pleaded hoarsely. “Don’t die on me! Don’t!”
Houston’s plea shook her. Gone was the hard soldier’s mask. She trembled at the raw emotion of his voice. Tears stung her eyes. What a horrible thing to come home to—seeing a good friend go into cardiac arrest and then watching him die. Ann was ready to tell Mike that it was too late. Only seven percent of people suffering from a heart attack ever revived with the help of CPR.
Again she gazed up through her veil of tears. She no longer heard the onlookers or felt them closing in on them, inch by inch. She watched as Houston hunkered over the older man, gripping him by the shoulders and giving him a good, hard shake. Yet again Houston struck him in the chest.
“Mike—” she begged.
“Wait! A pulse! I’ve got a pulse!” He gave a cry of triumph and watched intensely as the man’s face began to lose some of its grayness. “Bag ’em hard,” he snapped. “Pump all the oxygen you can into him.” He grinned tightly and put a coat beneath the man’s legs to elevate them slightly. Leaning over him again, he called, “Tony? Tony, you hear me? Open those ugly eyes of yours and look up at me. It’s Mike. Mike Houston. Come on, buddy, you can do it. Open your eyes!” And he shook him again, all the time keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arms.
Houston watched the dark lashes tremble against the man’s pasty features. “That’s it, open your eyes. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay. Come on, come on back. You’re too mean to die yet….” Then he grinned as Tony opened his dark brown eyes and stared groggily up at him.
Almost immediately, the patient started gagging. Ann removed the bag-valve mask from his face, took out the breathing appliance and threw it aside. She quickly replaced the mask, holding it there until she and Mike were both sure he was getting enough oxygen and was breathing well on his own.
Houston heard Elena cry out her husband’s name as she bent over him.
“Calm down, Elena,” he coaxed, reaching across and soothingly moving his hand against her thin shoulder as she gripped her husband’s hand. “He’s okay….” Mike wasn’t sure how okay Antonio really was. He knew the man had suffered a massive heart attack. How bad, they’d only know after a series of tests at the hospital.
Risking a look up at Ann, who was still kneeling at Tony’s head, delivering the life-giving oxygen, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. They caught him completely off guard. Returning his attention to his friend, he reached down, got his stethoscope from the bag and listened intently to his heart. It was a good, strong beat. Then Mike took his blood pressure.
“Eighty over sixty,” he announced with satisfaction.
“It could be better,” Ann said.
Grimly, Mike deflated the blood pressure cuff. “Give him five minutes. He’s not dumping on us. Color’s flooding his face. His capillary refill is better,” he murmured as he pinched the index fingernail of Tony’s right hand. Normally, the capillary refill took two seconds or less to flow back into the pinched area. It was a good indicator that the heart was pumping strongly and normally, supplying the life-giving substance to even the farthest extremities of the body.
“Three seconds?” Ann asked.
Houston nodded. He waited to recheck the blood pressure, but five minutes seemed to take forever. Glancing at his watch, he wished the second hand would move faster.
Elena was speaking in hushed tones to her husband. When Tony tried to reach up and touch his wife’s wet, pale face, Mike grinned. “You’re gonna be fine, Tony. But right now, keep your hands off Elena, you hear me? Just lie there and let your strength come back.” He glanced at Ann. “Stop bagging him.”
She nodded and watched as he took another blood pressure reading. Houston’s expression was intense and hard now. She was seeing his professional side as a paramedic once more. He was very good at what he did. He had an incredible confidence that radiated from him like the sun sending energy earthward. She watched as his thinned lips relaxed. A cocky, one-cornered smile tugged at his mouth as he removed the stethoscope from his ears and settled it around his thick, well-muscled neck. When he looked in her direction, she felt incredible tenderness coming from him. It wasn’t for her, but she basked in that invisible glow just the same. In that moment, he looked like a little boy, his blue eyes sparkling with unabashed joy.
“One-ten over eighty. He’s stabilizing. He’s through the worst of it.”
“Yes,” Ann quavered, giving him a trembling smile of triumph. “He’s going to live….”
Houston stood with Ann at his side as the ambulance paramedics took Antonio Valdez away on a gurney. Most of the crowd had disappeared now that the life-and-death drama was over. Without thinking, Mike put his hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a welcome to Lima.”
Ann felt the warm strength of his hand. She recognized his gesture for what it was. People in the medical field had to be devoid of emotion, keep ahead of the curve in any emergency, think rationally and stay calm when everything around them was shaking apart. She lifted her chin and met Mike’s blue gaze, absorbing his touch, the energy that seemed to tingle from his hand into her shoulder. It made her feel safe and cared for. His touch felt like life itself throbbing through her. It wasn’t the first time she had felt this unusual sensation. Now it was far more palpable and comforting. A soft smile flitted across her face. “Yes, it was…but you were good. Very good. You knew what to do.” Her heart expanded wildly. How could she stand the thought of not being near Mike? Suddenly, Ann realized how much her life had changed since he had walked into it.
Digesting the feelings that overrode her normal fears, she understood for the first time how much Houston had become a part of her, and vice versa, it seemed. They had been a good team. They’d worked as one. Perhaps it was due to sleep deprivation, but there in the Lima terminal Ann listened to her heart more closely than she had in a long time.
Houston absorbed that hesitant, fleeting smile Ann gave him. How beautiful she was, even though her hair was in mild disarray and her white blouse rumpled from the long flight. “So were you. We’re a good team, you and I.” And then he grinned. “Even if we do fight like dogs and cats.” He didn’t want to remove his hand, but he knew it was best. Allowing it to fall back to his side, Mike thought he saw a fleeting darkness in Ann’s wide, intelligent eyes. Unable to interpret what it meant, he cocked his head.
“Let me at least buy you a good cup of espresso before I leave for the clinic. It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping save Tony’s life. I owe you one….”
