Page 7 of Lucky Charm
“John Evans, our medic.”
“Yeah, I remember him.” He’d been with Hunt when she’d worked on him a year ago. She wasn’t happy about this part of the arrangement.
He leaned back into his chair, leaving his coffee to sit on the table. “I’m not being critical. We have weather moving in. I’d like to get there, perform the needed medical service, and get the hell out before it hits.”
“How soon for the weather?”
“Twenty-four to thirty-six hours. If we wait until morning to leave, with the drive to and from the mountains and an undetermined amount of time for surgery, we could get stuck in Haquiri’s compound. I don’t want to be in that position.”
Cait pushed away every emotion, the military officer and doctor coming to the forefront. “Can you brief me? I’ve never heard of him.”
“I’m glad you haven’t. He may be a local leader, but he’s not exactly one of Afghanistan’s best citizens.”
“You’re not happy about this mission?” The flash of insight into his emotions was dangerous territory.
Hunt stayed silent for a long moment. “This is a risky deal, Doc.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve undertaken a dicey mission, LT. In fact, they only give me the hard stuff.” That sounded conceited even if true.
“Not like this. For all intents and purposes, we will be in the same war zone situation we’ve been in from the beginning. Especially in a rural area like this one. The insurgency, the Taliban, poverty, and crime all rolled into one small region. It’s not an area that is currently solid in the Afghanistan government control. I get this mission is about saving a life, establishing a bridge. It’s part of what we do here to build trust. I’m trying to cover all the bases to mitigate that risk to you. I’m doing my job.”
“I’m familiar with the geopolitics of the area, LT. Your orders and mine are not that dissimilar. You get me there. I operate to earn some goodwill. You get us back.” She shouldn’t open this topic, but she had to get her balance. One crazy night and her professionalism teetered like a drunk at Mardi Gras. “We’re staying away from the personal, right?”
His expression twisted, but his gaze remained direct and clear. “Yes. Obviously, I’d prefer no one knew about what’s between us. It complicates things in both our professional realms, but it’s my job to deliver the best protection I can.”
Slayed by the honesty of his words, she went silent. Some way, they had to find a path that didn’t leave them tripping over each other. “I know this is awkward, Hunt.”
He went quiet and then uttered, “You have no idea.”
“Then tell me.” She searched his face for any sign of what he thought. One time they were so in sync it enticed the panties right off her, and the other times they were doing the Mars/Venus thing, neither knowing how to dance with the other.
He stayed silent. She let him think. He didn’t move, didn’t fidget. Hell, his eyes didn’t even move off her face. That stillness unnerved her.
“What do you want me to say, Doc? I don’t regret our night together, but it’s not what either of us are here to do. We have two services and two commands in our midst with performance and ethical expectations. They can call this mission support all they want, but we’re in a war zone. You and I should have left well enough alone and walked away.”
“True. But we didn’t.”
“I need to know that you will follow my orders out there. No questions. No discussion.”
“Done.”
“That simple?” His tone remained skeptical, and she couldn’t blame him. He’d mostly interacted with her as a doctor, and she didn’t apologize for being exacting. Especially when it washisleg muscles involved. Some people called her bossy. She defined it as being the best she could be.
She worked to maintain steady eye contact, acknowledging the importance of what needed to be accomplished to herself. “Yes, it’s that simple. I stay in my lane, and you stay in yours. I’ll make the surgical and medical decisions. You make the security and safety decisions. I’ll do as you ask and you, to the best of the situation, will do what I ask. Can we work with that?”
“Personal stays out of it?” Those laser-green eyes sparked and scoured her face. She couldn’t read his expression or his body language. That stillness again.
“Personal stays out of it,” she promised.
She was insane. She couldn’t breathe when near him. Hadn’t been able to from the first glance of him. She was a board-certified trauma surgeon who hijacked his care to put in stitches. Stitches, for God’s sake. She hadn’t done stitches on simple wounds with any regularity since the second year of her residency. But from the first moment, she’d snapped to him like a divining rod to water and hoarded his care.
He didn’t answer her. His silence and his steady gaze made her squirm.
“You’re in command. Tell me what you need me to do.” She put her promise into cooperation.
He nodded, accepting her response. He rose and handed back her iPad. “I’ll see you in the morning. 0600.”
She watched his muscles shift; he crossed the floor to the door in measured steps andimmediately she missed his presence. She couldn’t leave it like that.
