She stared outside again, looking for the source of that whacky idea. Nothing. No dragons slaying beasts, no witches on broomsticks chasing away black clouds.
The helicopter nudged onto the landing pad outside the hospital unit on base, jolting Madison back to reality, refocusing her attention to shifting Porky without causing him any more distress.
‘You don’t take time to settle in before everything turns belly up, do you?’ Jock was clambering inside the aircraft.
‘I’m hoping I’ve seen the worst for a while,’ she tossed over her shoulder as she raised Porky’s eyelid. ‘No one home.’
‘Probably for the best until we’re inside. Fill me in on the details while we shift him.’
She did, leaving nothing out. ‘Sam’s still patrolling that area around the old police station. He wasn’t convinced the area was clear of insurgents, and there’s a boy to see clear of the site.’
‘I’m surprised he didn’t take the flight and leave you out there.’ There was an irritating smile on Jock’s face. ‘He’s always the first to put newbies under pressure, and there’s no pressure like your first patrol when something goes wrong.’
So Sam had been kind to her. Her mouth lifted into a smile.
‘What?’ Jock asked.
‘Maybe Sam thinks I’m more use to Porky than he might be.’ Huh?
Jock spluttered with laughter. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’
‘I’m joking. Why?’
‘Because Sam is a brilliant surgeon and knows it. Believe me when I say he was doing you a favour.’
‘Truly?’ Gobsmacked just about described her. Damn it, Sam was starting a thaw deep inside her that she didn’t want to end until all the frost had gone. One day after arriving here and he was inadvertently encouraging her to look outward, not inside all the time. Which only spelt danger. She might become enthralled with him, even go so far as to fall in love with him. In a week? Why not? There were a hundred reasons. Her heart wouldn’t withstand another bludgeoning. It hadn’t recovered from the first one.
‘Truly.’ Jock laughed at her.
It wasn’t hard to find a return smile for Jock. He was one of the good guys. ‘Hadn’t we better get cracking with fixing Porky’s foot? Though I have my doubts about whether we can save it.’ She’d do everything within her power to keep from amputating if it was up to her. Everything and then some. Porky deserved that. And so did she. Here was an opportunity to fly, show what she was made of, and she wasn’t going to blow it.
* * *
Having showered to remove the grit and now dressed in theatre scrubs, Sam entered the small, crowded operating room, desperate to know how his sergeant was getting on, fearful of the answer. That foot hadn’t been in good shape. Porky was a professional soldier who prided himself on being the fittest, and was one of the best at what he did. Without his left foot he’d be relegated to an office out the back of nowhere for the rest of his army career. He’d hate that with a vengeance.
Jock looked up as the door shut behind him, and tilted his head in Madison’s direction, his eyes wide. Was he telling Sam he was impressed with their new medic? Or things had gone badly for Porky? No, he knew Jock and didn’t think he was telling him something was wrong.
Moving closer to the operating table, he saw Madison was leading the surgery. So Jock had handed the reins over. Interesting. That meant she knew her stuff. Jock was a perfectionist who let no one rain on his parade.
Maddy worked with infinite patience, putting that decimated foot back together. Out in the desert Porky’s foot had looked done for. Now there was a strong chance it’d be hanging around for a long time to come. Go, Maddy.
‘Watch an expert at work. Never seen anything like it, considering she’s not an orthopaedic surgeon.’ That was awe in Jock’s voice.
‘Seems Madison doesn’t do anything by halves.’
‘Worked out on patrol, then?’ Jock hadn’t taken his eyes off the surgery still going on.
‘Couldn’t fault her. Got a sharp pair of eyes on her, too.’ She’d been the first to see that kid crawling towards them. She’d also kept her promise to not let dust whirls disturb her. There had been a couple of instances when her hand had touched her midriff but her focus had been fixed on their environment, observing everything around them.
‘The guys okay about her?’
Sam nodded. Oh, yeah. They more than liked Captain Hunter. She could’ve asked them to crawl backwards all the way to camp and they’d have leapt at the chance to win her attention. ‘She slipped into her role as easily as a cold beer could slide down my throat right about now.’ Madison hadn’t tried to show she knew what to do, had instead got on with the job as required. Not every officer arriving out here for the first time behaved like that.
When he stepped closer to the operating table Madison raised her eyes. ‘Didn’t hear you come in. Thought you’d be hours away still,’ she murmured, before returning her attention to the job in hand.
He was already forgotten. Porky was in very good hands. His eyes dropped to the operation site. Her long, slim fingers moved deftly, gently, even though Porky wouldn’t be feeling a thing. Ideas of what those fingers might feel like on his own feverish skin wound around Sam, teasing him, lifting goose bumps on his arms. Her movements were smooth, purposeful. The suture needle caught the light as she pulled and pushed it, reminding him of one of those spinning rides at the fair. Now you see it, now you don’t. Now I touch you, now I don’t. Damn it.
Jamming his hands on his hips, he stared down at the patch of floor between his feet. Nothing there to distract him or make him curl his toes.
Get me a cold drink, fast. I need to drown these crazy thoughts before they take hold and wreck my common sense for ever.
Except this was nothing new. He’d felt the same tightening, same need warming his blood whenever he was interested in an attractive woman. Often. But today—today’s longing was about more. As though the whole package was a possibility.
‘You clear that police site?’ Jock’s sharp question interrupted his daydream.
‘Without a hitch.’ He risked watching Madison some more. ‘Porky’s got a good chance of a reasonable recovery, then?’ he asked no one in particular. Singling out Maddy would make her more important in his eyes, and he so didn’t want to do that. He’d gone too far along that track already.
Again she glanced up to him, like she was connected to him somehow. That could prove awkward considering where his mind had been headed. ‘No guarantees on how well the foot will function but I th
ink we can say he’s going to keep it.’ There was a challenge in her eyes, telling him not to argue the point.
He wouldn’t. The sergeant needed all the positive vibes he could get. ‘That’s a better prognosis than I gave him two hours ago.’
‘Me, too,’ Madison conceded. ‘I didn’t think he stood a chance, especially when Jock asked me to take over.’
That hit him smack bang in the chest. She’d admitted she might not have been the best person to do the job without a thought to the consequences for her own reputation. Again that annoying question sprang into his mind. What’s happened to you? She got spooked by dust whirls, admitted she wasn’t perfect when it came to operating, had accepted he’d been in charge on that morning’s patrol without a murmur. His gaze dropped to her midriff, or where it should be under the loose scrubs she wore.
I so don’t know you. But I sure as hell want to.
‘Sam, did you find what got Porky?’ Jock asked as the operation was being finished. ‘Madison thought he might’ve stepped on a landmine but I reckoned he’d have lost a lot more than his boot if he had.’
‘There was nothing left of the explosive device to investigate but we found a homemade pressure bomb on the other side of the building that we’re presuming was the same as what Porky trod on. Small, amateurish but still destructive.’ It’d been pure luck the second incendiary device hadn’t been completely buried so that the sun’s rays had caught it enough for Cop to investigate. Someone else could’ve been badly injured if he hadn’t.
‘Porky, Cop. What’s with all these nicknames?’ Madison asked. ‘How come you haven’t got one, Jock?’
Sam and Jock laughed.
‘You have? Jock’s a nickname?’
‘The man’s a Scotsman from way back,’ Sam told her.
‘Three generations ago,’ Jock growled. ‘Nothing Scottish about me.’
‘He likes haggis.’ Sam shuddered. ‘How anyone can eat that is beyond me.’