Chapter Nine
For what seemed the hundredth time, Cameron went over the notes she’d made on each of the tourists she and the other doctors had treated. Today, a group from the mainland was transferring them to the big island. From there, most would return to their vacation or home. A few would need another day or so of observation, which Matt would provide until he could clear them, then he’d return home as well. She wanted to make sure Matt had all the information he needed to continue their treatment and that each patient had a full account of their injuries and the care they’d received. Wes still wanted Brodie moved. That meant her time to convince him otherwise was growing slim.
Outside the clinic door, Creek rose to his feet. The poor dog hadn’t left the premises since she’d brought Arabella in two days ago. He knew his girl waited inside, and he stayed close until she returned home. Ara had been asking for her loyal companion. Hopefully, today she’d be up for the trek outside so the two could reunite. As Cameron watched the dog, the short hairs on the back of his neck rose and a low growl started in his throat. Her heart accelerated and fear twisted in her gut. Creek knew everyone on the island. He’d even accepted Ian and his team of doctors. She hurried out the door, stopping when she saw what, or rather who, had caught the dog’s attention.
A man strode toward the clinic, focused on the entrance. Despite the heat of the island, he wore a dark suit and dark glasses covered his eyes. Two large men followed behind him. While the leader appeared polished with his gelled hair and smoothly shaven face, the other men wore black t-shirts. The short sleeves exposed the tattoos and scars marking their muscled arms. Facial hair covered their faces.
As the group headed toward Cameron, she gripped the door frame. Creek dashed over, standing between her and the strangers.
She took a steadying breath. “Can I help you?”
The first man nodded. “We’re looking for someone.” He didn’t slow as he neared where she stood in the clinic’s doorway.
“Mind telling me who it is?” She got the feeling she was about to be bowled over.
The man’s head shifted slightly, but with the dark glasses concealing his eyes, she couldn’t tell if he looked at her. “Friends of mine,” he replied, still advancing.
Cameron swallowed and stepped squarely into the doorway. “I don’t believe you’re going to find them here.” Though her insides quaked, her voice remained steady.
The man finally paused. He ripped off his glasses and glared at her. “How do you know that? I don’t know you.”
Creek growled. Cameron laid a hand on the dog’s head. “And I don’t know you. I know everyone on this island, which is why I wonder why you’re here.”
The man’s cold, dark eyes narrowed, but a smile stretched his full lips. That smile sent ice racing through her veins.
“You’re American,” he purred.
She raised an eyebrow. “I am.”
At her accent, his smile grew. “Southern American. I love American women. They’re so outwardly tame, but so secretly wild.”
She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. “I assure you that’s not the case here. Now, who are you?”
“I’m the owner of the plane that crashed on your beach two days ago.” He waved a large hand in the direction of the accident.
Cameron’s entire body stiffened.
“I’m Victor Roberts. And you are?”
His hand was large. His fingers long and thick but not fat. She imagined when clenched, his fists would be massive. She knew for certain it would cause maximum damage. Yet the appendage looked so harmless with its clean, close-cropped nails. She raised her gaze to stare into the eyes of the man who’d ruined Keso’s sister. The man Keso had vowed to ruin in return. A corner of the man’s mouth lifted in a smirk, revealing a dimple. Her stomach twisted and bile rose in her throat. Coughing, she tried to keep the sour liquid from escaping. Roberts dropped his hand, then moved closer.
“Are you okay?” He placed a hand on her forearm.
She jerked away. The dimple had disappeared. “I’m fine.”
He stepped back. Still too close. “You never told me your name,” he reminded her. “Where is that southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?” His words came out clipped, controlled.
She was wasting his time, testing his patience. Could she afford to keep that up?
She straightened, stiffening her spine. “Dr. Crawford.”
His eyes narrowed as he assessed her, raking his gaze over her breasts, taking in the hint of cleavage peeking out of her tank-top, then down her torso to her bare legs in her cut-offs. Goose bumps popped up on her skin, but she refused to squirm.
“I’ve heard about you, Dr. Crawford. You were quite the hero after the crash.”
“I just did my job.”
He licked his lips, still assessing her. “I didn’t know pulling men and women from the ocean was in a doctor’s job description.”
She lifted a shoulder, hating that the gesture caused her breasts to move, gaining more of his attention. “Any decent human would do everything in their power to save another person.”
He smirked. Of course. What did he know about being a decent human?
“Is there something you need here?” For the sake of everyone on the island, she needed him to get on his way.
“You have Americans in your clinic. I need to see if any of them are my friends.” He leaned forward, as if heading for the door.
Cameron remained firm. “They’re not.”
The man stood only inches from her now. His cologne tickled her nose. Surprisingly, he smelled nice. Unfair. A man like Victor Roberts should smell like the garbage he was.
“I’ll see for my—”
“No.” Her daughter was inside the clinic. She’d die before she willingly allowed this monster near her baby.
His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared.
“The only Americans are tourists from boats,” she explained. “Your plane passengers are on the beach . . . or the water.” They’d pulled out any bodies they’d found, but Cameron’s priority had been the living. No one on the plane had fit that category.
“Well, I’d like to see for myself, if you don’t mind.” He tried to push past her.
Cameron stiffened her legs, rooted to the spot. “You’re not coming into the clinic.”