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“Who would’ve thought we’d have the most incredible sex of our lives in a supply hut in Africa?” she whispered. If soldiers burst in and gunned her down right then and there, Molly decided she’d die a happy woman. She doubted that either of them could have mustered the strength to put up much of a fight.
And yet… The imminent possibility of death had made her intensely aware of one thing. She wanted to survive.
“You know what?” she murmured. “I just realized I’d like to come out of this mess alive.”
“So would I,” Jordan said adamantly.
Before tonight, that hadn’t been entirely true for Molly. She didn’t actively think about death, but she hadn’t really cared, either. One way or the other, it hadn’t seemed to matter. It did now, and she had Jordan to thank for that.
“Can you sleep for a while?” he asked, his hands stroking her back.
She nodded. “What about you?”
“Yeah, for an hour or two. I’ve got the second watch. My feeling is we’ll know more about what’s going to happen in the morning.”
Nestled against him, warm and snug, Molly felt herself drifting off.
Sometime later, she felt Jordan leave. He kissed herbefore slipping out of the storehouse. She didn’t remember anything else until he returned. He crawled beneath the single blanket and lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms. Molly felt his sigh as he relaxed and she smiled to herself. It was almost as if the past three years hadn’t happened. It was almost as if they were young and in love all over again. Almost as if Jeffrey hadn’t died…
Molly woke to the unmistakable sound of gunfire. It was close. Much closer than before.
Jordan bolted upright and grabbed his weapon. “Stay here,” he ordered and was gone before she could protest.
Molly barely had time to collect her wits when the door to the shed was thrown open. Jordan stood framed in the light. “Come on,” he shouted, holding out his hand to her. “Zane’s coming and this time we’re going with the chopper.”
Jordan’s friend was coming back! She could hear the chopper more distinctly when she moved outside the supply hut. She was greeted with a whirlwind of dust and grit. Trying to protect her eyes, she hunched forward and, with Jordan’s arm around her waist, ran toward the deafening sound.
Dr. Morton climbed into the helicopter after her, looking shaken and exhausted. He gave her a weak smile and patted her hand as he moved to the rear of the aircraft. Molly waited for Jordan, but he didn’t board with the soldiers.
“Where’s my husband?” she demanded.
“He’s coming,” Dr. Morton said. “Don’t worry, Jordancan take care of himself.” He guided her firmly out of harm’s way.
“Jordan,” Molly shouted, near frantic. The chopper was filling up with people and she couldn’t find her husband. Pushing her way past the others, Molly was sobbing when she saw him. He was walking backward toward the chopper, his gun raised and firing at what she could only guess.
The chopper started to lift.
“Jordan,” she screamed, although he couldn’t possibly hear her. “Hurry!”
Despite everything, her voice—or the emotion she felt—must have reached him because he turned abruptly and ran like she’d never seen him run before, sprinting toward the helicopter. The minute his back was turned three rebels appeared from around the corner of the hospital, shooting at him. Two men fired machine guns from the door of the chopper while Zane helped lift Jordan and drag him aboard. He collapsed once he was inside, pale and bleeding heavily from his shoulder. He clutched at the wound and blood oozed between his fingers.
Molly fell to her knees at his side, weeping. “You’ve been hit.”
He smiled weakly up at her, then his eyelids fluttered closed. He’d passed out.
CHAPTER THREE
Jordan felt as if his shoulder was on fire. The pain pulled him out of the comfort of the void.
He opened his eyes to find Molly and her physician friend working on him. Bright red blotches of blood covered the front of her blouse and he guessed it was his. She seemed to sense that he was awake and paused to look into his face.
“You’re going to be fine,” she assured him when she saw that he’d regained consciousness. But Jordan wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t recognize the cold fear in her eyes.
“Liar,” he said. That one word took every ounce of strength he possessed. Even then his voice was little more than a husky whisper.
Molly held his hand between her own, her eyes bright with tears. “Rest if you can. Zane said we’ll be in the capital soon. There’s an excellent hospital there.”
“The capital,” he repeated weakly.
