Page 24

Why is this scum calling me Ms. Rivers?

“After I get you cleaned up, I’ll bandage them up, then give you a shirt to wear, okay?”

He sounds nice.

Wait a minute. He sounds American!

“Who are you?” She croaked out the question.

“Chief Petty Officer Nolan O’Roarke, Omega Sky SEAL Team, United States Navy.”

She huffed out a laugh, then started coughing. When she finally stopped, she opened her eyes. “You could have said Nolan.”

She saw him grin down at her. “I guess I could have.” He might be grinning but she could see his tension behind the grin. That couldn’t be good. She looked at her arm and saw that what she thought had been something stinging her was an IV line. It was attached to long tubing that snaked up to a bag hanging from a coat hook above the vehicle’s window.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Your ribs hurt, don’t they?”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Medic.”

“Then on a score of one to ten, when I cough the pain is at one-hundred. Does that help?”

Nolan sighed. “I’m not sure how many are broken, but that cough has done a number on your ribs.”

As if to prove his point she started to cough so hard her entire body spasmed. Her throat filled with mucus and she looked up at the man who was leaning over her and swallowed it.

“Ms. Rivers, you’ve got to get rid of the phlegm, it’s the best thing you can do for yourself.” He held a bottle of water to her lips. As soon as she was done drinking, she thanked him.

She gave him the best smile she could under the circumstances. “Am I going to live?”

“Damn right you are!” the driver shouted. “We didn’t run through the jungle to have you die on us now.”

Jenny started to cough again. The man up front continued to yell at her. “You better spit that shit out. Get all of that phlegm out of your lungs. Pretend it’s a spitting contest and the prize is a million bucks. This is no time to be ladylike.”

In between coughs, Jenny laughed, then she rolled over and found Nolan holding out a towel for her to spit into. She hated this. Fucking hated this, but now that she was spared drowning in mud, she sure as hell wasn’t going to drown in her own spit!

She heard her chest rattle. She kept coughing and coughing and coughing. How much mucus could one body create?

“That’s good, Ms. Rivers,” Nolan said. “Are you allergic to cephalosporins?”

“No.”

“Good.” He took a fat syringe filled with fluid out of his bag. “I’m going to give you a cephalosporin push to get it onboard faster.” He screwed the syringe into her IV and spent the next couple of minutes pushing the plunger down until it was empty, then he unscrewed it from the IV. After that, he tapped her back, then started to rub it. It was odd. It took a while for Jenny to realize he was using a wet cloth. Thank God, she might finally get clean.

When she finally stopped coughing, Nolan helped her sit up. Her arms were too weak to cover her breasts. And really, who cared at this point? He’d just seen her spit and snort out a gallon of snot and mucus, having him look at her breasts was three steps up.

“Ms. Rivers, do you want to wash up your front before putting on the clean shirt?”

Jenny looked down at her mud-covered torso. Tears of frustration welled as she realized she was too weak to even wash herself.

“I can’t. My arms are too heavy.”

“I can help. My wife insists on me giving our toddler, Iris, baths at least three times a week when I’m home.” He smiled. “Actually, I’m the one who insists. I love how Iris likes to play in the tub, of course clean-up is always a chore.”

Jenny appreciated how he was attempting to make her feel comfortable. “If you could help me wash, I’d appreciate it,” she whispered.