‘Exactly.’ She looked relieved. ‘So, we’re...good?’
‘Sure.’
He didn’t feel good. He felt something a whole lot more—almost dangerously so. He wanted to say something. Or, worse, do something. Like touch her. Taste her.
With deliberate nonchalance, he turned back to the group in time to hear Alex deliver his verdict.
‘Looks like the filter, maybe?’ he declared. ‘But we’d need Clem to fix it.’
‘Who’s Clem?’ Lukas asked as a rumble of concern made its way around the group.
‘Clem is mechanic.’ Jean-Christophe pulled a face. ‘He is being back in camp.’
Another rumble ran around the group. The supplies they’d collected included anti-malaria drugs and tetanus vaccine, along with some other medical supplies which all needed to be kept in a carefully controlled cool environment. Only a working generator could keep the back of the truck cold enough.
‘And Clem is only one can fix.’ Alex pointed to the generator.
‘Unless you can?’ Oti ventured hesitantly, looking at him.
‘You are mechanic?’ Jean-Christophe frowned.
‘I used to tinker a bit.’
‘He used to build his own racing cars.’ Oti stepped in, glancing at him. ‘Sorry, but this is no time for false modesty. Edward told me he met you at the racetrack once or twice. And if we don’t get this fixed, we could lose a significant amount of the supplies.’
As a murmur of agreement made its way around, Lukas acknowledged her point and peered at the machine. It didn’t take him long to determine that Alex was right; it was the fuel filter that needed replacing.
‘Do we have any spares?’
‘Should have been on supply plane, but no.’ Jean-Christophe bunched his shoulders. ‘Was expected fifteen days ago. We cannot be keeping much supplies in camp, in case of being attacked of bandits.’
Yeah, Oti had explained to him that everything was kept to a minimum the further out the camps were from any main towns or cities. The more remote, the more they depended on regular supplies. The less they kept on site, the less of a target the hospital, the staff and the patients would be to any potential thieves.
In a roundabout way, Lukas supposed it made sense, though it didn’t help in situations like this.
‘There’s nothing?’ he checked. ‘Not even an old generator?’
‘Yes, old generator in car,’ one of the other drivers jumped in suddenly. ‘But is not work.’
‘It doesn’t matter if it works.’ Lukas thought quickly. ‘It’s the fuel filter I need. It just might do.’
‘I get, I get.’ The driver hurried over to his vehicle as Lukas began working at the generator in the truck.
‘Is not same type generator.’ The driver frowned, bringing it over. ‘Filter does not fit.’
‘Let me see?’ demanded Lukas, stretching out his hand. He investigated it closely. ‘No, it isn’t the same, but I reckon I could file the leads down and jimmy something up.’
‘Who is this Jimmy?’ Jean-Christophe frowned as the group began to crowd around Lukas. ‘We backing up, yes? Giving the man space to work. Showing us that he is not being our little Oti’s plus one after all.’
‘Jean-Christophe...’ Oti sounded agitated but a laugh sprung out of Lukas.
‘Is that what they’re calling me?’
He realised he hadn’t heard himself quite that relaxed or happy in a long time. Ironic, given the situation. But it had been creeping up on him for the past month or so.
Ever since his marriage.
‘Oti’s plus one, sí,’ confirmed José, clearly delighted he wasn’t taking it personally.