Page 16 of Deadly Rescue

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Five minutes later, Scotch is climbing back in the car. Andre throws it in reverse and backs out like we’re being chased.

Whatever the healer, shaman, medicine person gave Scotch is wrapped in big green leaves. A spicy, earthy scent fills the car. “Do you really know what you’re doing?”

“I studied some indigenous medicines. But I’m not the one that matters. That man knows what he’s doing.”

“Great. I get to be an experiment.”

“Honey, I hate to tell you this, but you already were.”

I gape at him. “Let me give you some advice. That’s not what you want to say to a patient. Remember the concept of bedside manner?”

When Scotch chuckles, I don’t laugh.

“You’re not improving my opinion of doctors.”

“Wait until I use this stuff on you…”

“Oh, lord. Now I’m really worried.”


Carefully, I spread out the medical supplies that I filched from the hospital out on the car seat. I frown as I go through the meager haul. What we have is what I could fit in my cargo pants pockets. “Andre, how long before we can get that flight?”

“Marshall messaged that they just landed in Florida to refuel. Then on to New York to meet the kid’s parents.”

“Can we get another flight out of here? A commercial one? I’d really feel better if we were back stateside.”

“Maybe. I’ll check as soon as we land at the safe-house. Is everything okay?”

“I’m going to need some other medical supplies. Some bandages, some antiseptic. Soap. More gloves.”

“I’ll take you to the safe house and I’ll get it. Just write a list.”

Simona’s a literal wreck. Her color is pale. The hospital gown hangs from her shoulders. She’s hunched in pain. No patient in her shape should be bouncing around in the back of a car.

It damn near rips me to shreds.

Setting the leaf wrapped medicine on the car seat, I say, “This stuff is kind of ugly, be forewarned.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Appearance isn’t the important part.”

She scoffs. “I’m pretty sure a man has never said those words before.”

“Damn. Not only do I have being a doctor against me, now it’s being a man too. I guess I’m screwed.”

Narrowing her eyes, she says, “I don’t hate all men.”

Her blonde brow is arched as she watches me unfold the leaf that’s wrapped around the gooey mass. With disgust in her voice, she says, “Is that—”

“Not feces…”

The tension in her face relaxes. “Thank god.”

I don’t tell her it’s been chewed and spit by the medicine man, though. Unless she asks specifically, I’ll keep that part to myself.

She grabs her nose. “Eew.”