Page 34 of Hot Intent

“I could donate a pint,” Katie offered. “I’m O-negative.”

“That’s a noble offer. But if you donate blood to everyone who needs some around here, you’ll be drained dry. You needthe blood more, anyway. We’re going to be working long hours around here.”

Alex was not kidding. When word got out that a doctor had arrived, patients poured into the clinic, and they worked forty-eight hours straight with only short cat naps to keep them going.

They survived on bottled water and canned food gulped down as they moved from patient to patient. A hastily dug outhouse behind the clinic served much of the village, and baths consisted of sponging off over a bucket of cold water.

After the initial surge of patients, they both grabbed four hours’ sleep, and repeated the whole routine again.

Katie helped Sylvia whenever she could. They woman working tirelessly in the background, collecting scrap wood and building a fire, boiling water over it, and sterilizing towels, sheets, and surgical tools in it. When she and Sylvia’s nursing services weren’t needed, they fed children and passed out bottles of water, and mopped blood off the floors. Katie forgot what it felt like to sit down and rest.

As miserable and demanding as the work was, Katie was reassured to see the passionate healer she’d first met and fallen in love with still existed inside Alex’s convoluted heart. The physician was just buried beneath the spy. Now, if only she could uncover the man’s emotions and feelings, life would be perfect.

The fifth day dawned, and she asked Alex over their breakfast of powdered eggs and canned tomatoes, “Isn’t it about time for us to be moving on? When we were in Zaghastan, it took about three days for word to get out among the locals that we were in the area. It must work about the same, here.”

He nodded around a slug of water. “I’m counting on it working about the same.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer. She pressed, “Are we going to leave, soon?”

He shook his head and picked up his trash. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’m timing how long it takes the Cuban Army to show an interest in us.”

What the heck did that mean?

“They showed quite an interest in us the night we arrived. I thought we were avoiding those guys.”

“Someone told the Army to ambush our arrival point. What I’m watching is how quickly they track down reports of a foreign doctor showing up in the area.”

“You’re using us as bait?” she squeaked.

“More or less.”

“There’s no less about it. You’re sitting here waiting for them to come after us! What exactly are you planning to do when they get here?”

He shrugged. “Evade them.”

“Just like that?”

“Yup.”

God, she hated it when he went all monosyllabic on her like this. “Won’t that be just a wee bit dangerous?”

A shrug.

Great. Now he wasn’t speaking at all. At least her vocal chords were functioning normally. “This is a lousy idea, Alex. Just because your father is in bed with the Cubans doesn’t mean they’ll embrace you like a long-lost son.”

“I’ve got to go,” he bit out.

“You’re avoiding me. I’m not done talking about this with you!” she called after him as he beat a hasty retreat to help an elderly man shuffle inside the clinic.

Alex dived into the morning’s line of patients with enough vigor for her to be certain he was dodging her.

Old Alex would not have taken such a risk with her life. New Alex was far too cavalier about danger for her taste.

As quickly as the deluge of patients had come, it stopped as abruptly by noon. Sylvia told the two of them to take a few hours off. They went to her little cottage next door, which was missing part of its roof, crawled wearily into hammocks draped with mosquito netting, and crashed.

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