His To Protect. Karen Rock

towels from the dispenser and turned. She arched a brow. “I’ll comfort him.”

      “Why are four of my nurses not treating patients?” snapped the chief nurse, breaking up the tableau by thrusting through the curtain, her mouth pressed in a firm line.

      “Sorry, Nurse Little,” gasped the brunette.

      “Just getting medication.” Raeanne shook one of her cups, making the pills rattle.

      “And gossiping,” asserted Nurse Little. “One, we don’t spread rumors.” She ticked her fingers. “Two, we don’t waste precious time doing so when there are patients to treat. Am I clear?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” whispered the cowed young women as they scurried back into the main part of the tent.

      Cassie, however, didn’t trust her trembling legs to move so she held on to the plastic shelving, hoping the spinning world would stop soon.

      Mark had been grounded?

      This was his first disaster mission since Jeff’s disappearance?

      She pictured his dark expression last night when they’d met. Recalled his assurance that he wasn’t the best company. Had his concern for this trip been the reason?

      Yet it didn’t match the image she’d formed of the pilot who’d abandoned Jeff. The overconfident, callous man who cared only about following procedures, not saving lives.

      The rumors had to be wrong.

      “Cassie, you look pale.”

      She shook her head, so many thoughts buzzing in her brain she couldn’t speak one out loud.

      “Yes, you are. And tired.” A firm hand pressed against her brow and Nurse Little’s eyes bored into hers. “This is your first mission, correct?”

      She nodded. Beyond the curtains someone shrieked, a long, agonizing sound that trailed off ominously.

      “And you’ve been working...”

      “Since we arrived, ma’am,” she murmured, dredging her voice from its hiding spot, somewhere down deep in her throat. She wasn’t about to mention that she hadn’t slept the night before, too busy tangling limbs with the helicopter pilot responsible for her brother’s death.

      “Right.” Nurse Little took the tetanus needle from Cassie’s hand. “I’m relieving you tonight. Give me a report on your patients, then shower and bed. I’ll need you back at 0600 hours. That’s an order.”

      “But Melinda...” protested Cassie. And it was her turn for a new admit. The screaming patient...that had to be hers. She was needed. Couldn’t quit now.

      “I’ll give her the shot. Tetanus?”

      “Yes. But really, I can...”

      Nurse Little arched an eyebrow. “I believe I’m perfectly capable of giving a shot. And a directive. Is there some other issue I’m unaware of?”

      Cassie hung her head. “I left my duffel on the helicopter. I don’t have anything to change into.”

      Nurse Little pointed at a bag in the corner. “You can borrow a clean T-shirt and shorts from me. Anything else?”

      Cassie backed up. “No, ma’am.”

      Her supervisor’s face softened. “Get some rest, dear. Lord knows we’ll need a fresh pair of hands in the morning.”

      “Thank you.” After reporting out to her superior, she grabbed the clothes and headed through the back entrance to the hastily built women’s showers—basically a couple of stalls with sheets for curtains and a self-pumping water unit.

      Despite the crude setup, she sighed when she stripped off her limp uniform and lathered her hair, washing the grime away, wishing the devastating losses she’d witnessed today were as easy to erase. None of the wounds she’d treated had come close to soothing the hurts of these people who’d been separated from homes and loved ones.

      She pictured the desperate locals who’d searched the patient board, looking for their family members, leaving hollow eyed and empty-handed. How she ached for them. She knew what loss felt like. The crushing pressure that seemed to bury your heart alive, made taking a full breath impossible, your mind spinning in hopeless circles, trying and failing to understand that a part of you was gone forever. That your life would never be the same, would never be whole.

      Water pulsed against her hair as she scraped her nails over her scalp, massaging in the shampoo. Pushing back the rising darkness, Cassie drew on a memory of the most rewarding part of the day—reuniting a girl with a stuffed dog that had been a dumb-luck find. Cassie had spotted it during her lunch break when she’d helped pull one of the stretchers off an emergency vehicle.

      How elated she’d felt to see the girl’s tears dry and a small smile emerge. The ultimate rewards weren’t always big successes, but sometimes the quiet, small victories.

      She turned beneath the water and held out the length of her hair. Shampoo streamed to the drain and swirled, rising in bubbles before disappearing. Washcloth in hand, she rubbed a bar of brown soap then slid the cleanser over her body, the stringent smell stinging her nose. Despite the devastation caused by the storm, or perhaps because of it, Cassie had most often witnessed love today. Dedicated spouses, partners and family members, waiting for hours outside the station, patiently holding vigil until their loved one was out of danger.

      Love...

      She’d never been in love before. Commuting to her local college, then moving into the apartment above her parents’ garage, meant she hadn’t gotten out much. Dated. Definitely no mind-blowing one-night stands like last night.

      Heat flared at the juncture of her thighs as she skimmed the wash cloth there, her flesh deliciously sore after the long, passionate night.

      If Mark was anyone else, she would have said it was the greatest sex of her life. When was the last time she’d felt so giddy and uninhibited? So powerful?

      Only it’d been a lie. A cruel cosmic joke that made her want to scream, not laugh. Mark was her enemy.

      Yet, based on Raeanne’s story, she wondered.

      Did Jeff haunt Mark, too?

      An alarm sounded as she finished rinsing. Warned that such a signal heralded increased wind and dangerous conditions, she yanked the T-shirt over her slick body, pulled on the shorts and dashed outside.

      Straight into a wall of muscle.

      “Oh. Excuse me,” she muttered, her apology withering on her lips as she glanced up. Mark.

      Her pulse quickened under his intent stare, shock rooting her feet to the ground. The gaining wind whipped her wet hair around her face.

      His gaze traveled down her body, from the collar of her wet shirt to the hem of Nurse Little’s shorts, which, thanks to Cassie’s longer frame, barely covered her ass. His predatory eyes narrowed.

      Before she could whirl away, she caught sight of her duffel, dangling from his hand.

      “That’s mine.”

      He cleared his throat. “I was dropping it at the aid station. Didn’t think you’d still be working.”

      Oh. So he’d hoped to avoid her? Anger sizzled through her, despite her own strategy to evade him.

      Well. Too bad, flyboy.

      “And why’s that?” she demanded, grabbing the bag from him. At the brush of his fingers against hers, hungry need growled low in her gut and she shoved it down. Focused on her anger. Outrage. “You didn’t think I’d last?”

      Before he could answer, something whizzed by her ear and he grabbed her, lightning fast, and pulled them to the ground. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as he crouched over her protectively, his smell familiar and sexy as hell.

      She shoved him away.