The Tortured Rebel (7 page)

A place they could be rescued from along with everyone else.

Staying upright and continuing to move was more than an extreme challenge now. Becca slipped on something loose. Or maybe her legs just gave way. She had to grab at a scrubby bush for a handhold but that was loose, too, and it came away in her hand.

The whole bank seemed to be shivering. Moving. Becca was on her hands and knees. She lost her grip on the bag of supplies and items were spilling out and bouncing away down the slope. Clean, white bandages in their plastic wrappings seemed to glow in the gathering dusk. A loud, roaring sound increased and Becca was sure it was inside her head. She was about to faint,
having gone past the physical limits she could push herself to.

Being gripped by her upper arms and hauled to her feet was unbearable.

‘No! Just leave me, Jet.
You
go.’

Jet made no verbal response that she could hear. He was dragging Becca, having abandoned the life pack.

Incredibly, the roaring sound got even louder and the night became a living thing—moving and breathing around them. And then the light changed, flooded with an unearthly, red glow.

Something crashed into the trees nearby.

Jet’s oath was spine-chilling. He was moving faster and Becca was struggling not to fall again.

‘Jet…’

‘Move, Becca. We’ve got to find shelter. That was a rock.’

Another crashing sound came. The crunch of rock on rock. A burst of sparks and the strong smell of scorching.

Much later, Becca would marvel how much difference a burst of adrenaline could make. Muscles she’d thought were useless suddenly came back to life. Her thinking snapped into coherency.

The volcano was erupting again. Hurling missiles into the sky that were landing around them. Lethal weapons, some of which were probably the size of a small car.

Because they were close to the top of this ridge, any cover they might have had from dense forest was gone. Trees were sparse here and bare, rocky formations offered no kind of shelter.

Or did they?

‘There.’
Becca tugged on Jet’s hand, only now realising
that they were joined by a determined grip on each other. ‘Under the rocks.’

This bank of rock had an overhang. Not enough to call itself a cave but more than enough to shelter two people from airborne missiles. Maybe.

They were there within seconds and only just in time to save themselves from a shower of small rocks landing within metres of them. Some seemed to explode on hitting the rocks well above them and the sound and light show from the sparks made it all seem like some grotesque fireworks display.

Or how you would imagine the end of the world to look.

Another earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet with a vicious jolt and Becca cried out in fear. They were about to die. Both of them.

I’m sorry.

Jet gathered the terrified bundle that was Becca into his arms and his only conscious thought was the awareness of a deep shame.

Not that it was a shame his life was going to end like this, in the shadow of an exploding volcano. It wasn’t a bad way to go for someone who’d lived on the edge for so long. He might have chosen it, in fact. A sudden death in the midst of a dangerous adventure. Mind you, if he’d chosen it, he would have timed it a bit better.

Like when he was in his nineties, maybe.

No. The shame came from a sense of failure that he wasn’t able to protect Becca and keep her safe.

He was failing Matt.

He was failing Becca.

Most of all, he was failing himself.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and turned so that it would be his back that got any impact first. He used one hand to cradle her head against his shoulder, letting her bury her face so she wouldn’t see what was happening. He even curled over her protectively, resting his temple on the top of her head. Both their masks had been ripped off somehow in the past minute or two and when he turned ever so slightly, he could press his lips against her hair.

He told himself he was comforting her but he knew he needed the comfort himself just as badly. He didn’t want to die, dammit. Life was too precious and he still had too much he needed to do. And learn. New things to discover that he might not even know existed yet.

Like this … this incredible sensation of holding Becca that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with a woman in his arms. This was so astonishingly … tender. No wonder he’d never gone looking for it. The sensation seeped into every cell of his body and made him feel curiously … raw.

Vulnerable?

No. He might have an excuse for letting the volcano do that to him but Jet Munroe didn’t do vulnerable. He’d learned not to at a very early age. Probably when he’d been a grubby kid with scabby knees and strangers had been telling him that his mother was gone but that they’d find some nice people to look after him instead.

If he thought of the shape he was holding as simply a frightened woman and not Becca, he might be able to lose that unpleasant sensation that was almost fear. It was OK to be afraid of the natural disaster occurring in the physical world but, if he was going to really protect himself, he had to back away from whatever explosions
were happening somewhere in his mind. Or was it his heart?

She was a woman. A virtual stranger now, thanks to the years apart they’d had. But part of her was still the girl he remembered. The bond was still there and that made it impossible to simply let go.

And then Becca’s arms stole around his waist and she squeezed him back, pressing her body tightly against his. She twisted her head to look up at him and because he was so close, with his lips on her hair, he ended up with his mouth only centimetres from hers.

She was looking straight into his eyes and whatever rational thoughts he was trying desperately to cling to shattered and vanished.

This was
Becca.

And she was beautiful.

And he wanted her. He
needed
her.

Kissing her wasn’t any kind of conscious action. It was the result of proximity. Of senses stretched to breaking point by what could very well be the last minutes of life.

Most of all, by sheer inevitability.

This had always been meant to happen.

Reality faded the instant his lips touched hers.

The nightmare became a dream. The culmination of many, many dreams, in fact. All the longing, the desire, the
love
that had been buried for so long came rushing back with the same kind of force that was still sending fiery missiles to land far too close to this precarious shelter.

It was a dream but it was real, too. The scratch of Jet’s unshaven face. The incredible softness of his lips.
The way his hands cradled her head as though she was the most precious thing on earth.

They were both filthy. Battered and bruised and sweaty and so exhausted it felt like being drunk, but none of that mattered at all. This was about.
life.

Not just surviving. It went deeper than that. It was beginnings instead of endings. Wiping out a barrier that should never have been there. One that had walled off what was probably the most important part of being alive.

There had only ever been one man for Rebecca Harding and she was holding him at last. Touching him. Able to offer herself without the slightest hesitation or doubt.

The kiss was hungry. As though they were both tasting something they had wanted but been denied for ever. As soon as the pressure eased even a fraction, the contact was snatched back and deepened. Becca clutched at Jet’s head, torn between gasping for air and being unable to tear her mouth from his.

And it wasn’t enough. She pressed her body against his, wanting … what? To slip inside his skin? To be
inside
him?

No. She wanted him to be inside
her.
As physically close as it was possible for two people to become. It had to happen. This wanting was so powerful, she would shatter if it didn’t happen. Dragging her hands from his head, totally unaware of any pain in her arm or anywhere else in her body, Becca fumbled for the fastenings of his jacket. Pulling it open so that she could find and touch bare skin.

He caught both her hands and held them hard. Stopping her progress. Did he not want this? Shocked, Becca
looked up only to find the heat in the dark eyes so close to hers was just as wild as the fire inside herself. He did want this. As much as she did. He was just checking. Seeking permission to kick away any traces of a barrier.

In answer, Becca reached up to touch his face, running her fingers softly over his lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Offering him her throat. Sending her desire though her fingertips.

His lips were on her neck in a heartbeat. His hands unzipping her flight suit and peeling it back. They slipped underneath the T-shirt she had on and pushed her bra up so they could cup her breasts, his thumbs soft against nipples that felt as hard as metal.

The cry that carried over the roar of sound around them was unrecognisable and yet Becca knew it had come from herself. She was lost in pleasure so sharp it hurt. Desperate for more. To give as well as receive.

A low growl of sound that blended with the roar of the volcano came from Jet as her hands found their way beneath his clothing and touched what they were seeking. Maybe the sounds and the heat came from beyond this shelter but it seemed unlikely and Becca didn’t care.

She gave herself up to ecstasy and the world outside simply stopped turning.

One day, he might look back and joke about the most explosive sexual encounter he’d ever had but laughter had no place in the aftermath of the unleashed passion that had just occurred.

Mother Nature seemed to be in tune with them. When
Jet realised that the edges of paradise were blurring and eased himself gently from inside Becca, the night was very dark. Any glow from burning lava was gone. The eruption seemed to be over.

The roar of sound was gone, too, and it was suddenly so quiet he could hear Becca swallow. He could hear the rasp of the material her suit was made of as she unwrapped her legs and arms from around his body and moved to straighten her clothing.

The sense of loss was surprisingly sharp. Jet moved, too, to lessen its impact. He followed her example and tidied his clothing. Not that he had to do much. How on earth had they managed to have sex like that when they had been virtually still fully clothed?

The silence seemed to grow. He should say something. But what? He knew Becca was watching him but he avoided her gaze while he tried to think of something he could say. Anything. Unfortunately, the words pounding in his head right now were not any he could release.

He had just made love to his best mate’s little sister.

What would Matt think?

Maybe Becca would know what to say. She was grown up. Tough. She could handle anything, couldn’t she?

Apparently not this. She was fully dressed again, sitting with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them.

‘Do you think it’s over?’

‘The eruption?’

He wasn’t quick enough to avoid direct eye contact this time. The message couldn’t have been plainer. He was an idiot. Of course she was talking about the eruption.

They both knew that what had just happened between them wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

M
OVING
on was the right thing to do.

Jet would have been compelled to do
something,
in any case, given that the alternative was to stay there in the silence. With Becca.

With the knowledge that he’d opened the most enormous can of worms and he had no idea what he wanted to do about that.

The warning in that look on her face had been redundant. They had so much unfinished business between them, it would probably never be over. They’d made no attempt to discuss any of the issues of the past and now they had complicated it all to the nth degree by … having sex.

Was that all it had been? A wild coupling in the face of unbearable stress? A safety valve that had gone off because of too much pressure?

He was too tired and too shaken to be able to think about any of it. He could see the worms. Impossibly tangled threads. Memories of events and their associated emotions, some of which he’d never dared try to analyse. The sex had been like a giant, emotional can opener and now it was threatening to do his head in completely.

Jet knew how to deal with such an overwhelming
threat. He switched it off. Simple. It could all go into the ‘too hard’ basket for now. There would be time enough to debrief at some later, more appropriate time. If Becca would even concede having a conversation that involved the past, of course. What had she said?

Keep your memories to yourself.

The past was a no-go area. Whether they had a future at all was still in the lap of the gods. So the present was it for the moment, and Jet could deal with that.

‘I’ve got a torch in my pack. I’m going to get to the top of the ridge and have a look around. Stay here and I’ll come back for you.’

But Becca shook her head. ‘I’ll come, too.’

Any appreciation of how tough she was had been switched off, as well. Jet was in soldier mode. On a mission.

‘Fine.’

Becca gave a terse nod. ‘Can I use the torch for a minute? I’ll go and see if I can retrieve some of that stuff I dropped when the eruption started.’

He went with her but they could only find the life pack and about half of what the bag had originally contained.

‘We’re wasting time,’ Jet decided. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

There was a strong smell of sulphur in the air so they dampened masks with saline and put them on. Jet sacrificed a crêpe bandage and they wrapped a layer over the masks for extra protection. The sunglasses weren’t going to be enough for their eyes but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

‘I’ll keep some saline in my pocket. We can flush our eyes every so often. It might help.’

‘Getting out of here would help,’ Becca muttered. ‘A lot.’

Once they were moving, it was easier to leave what had just happened between them behind. When they reached the ridge and could see the flames of a campfire that had to have been built by people, it was all but forgotten. They had an achievable goal and it was the destination they had been struggling to get to for far too many hours already.

‘We’ll go slowly,’ Jet said. ‘We should be able to keep away from any lava if it’s got this far.’

There were trickles of fire to be seen well above them, trailing down from the glow that was the centre of the volcano. The air was thick and Jet couldn’t decide whether his pounding headache and the vague fogginess in his head were due to his injury, his exhaustion or toxic fumes.

‘How are
you
feeling?’ he asked Becca a few minutes later. ‘Physically, I mean,’ he added in a silence that felt awkward.

‘I’ve been better.’ Her voice was muffled by the covering of mask and bandage but, even so, the tone was wry. ‘Don’t worry about me, Jet. I’ll cope.’

She would, too.

Whose game was it now? Jet wondered as he led her downhill for the last time. Whose rules would have to be followed? If he wanted to continue playing at all, that was. It was a moot point. For the foreseeable future, he had no choice.

They reached what remained of the conservation workers’ settlement within a couple of hours.

The small group of people sitting around the fire
watched their approach in stunned silence. Becca stared back. She tried to smile but realised it didn’t matter that she couldn’t because her face was hidden anyway. It was completely overwhelming. Seeing these people. Smelling hot food. Knowing that—maybe within hours—a ship would be arriving at this location to rescue them all.

Knowing that survival was a real possibility now. If she hadn’t been so convinced that her world was coming to an end, would she have given in to that passionate desire for Jet? Would it have been unleashed at all?

The time since then had been surreal. She’d been in a strange, trance-like state where she’d still been able to feel exactly what it had been like when Jet had touched her. She could still taste his kisses. Feel him inside her. Hear his breath and the thump of his heartbeat. She could stay in that incredible moment when she’d felt.
whole
for the first time in her life.

It had kept her going. It had made the difficulties of the downward climb seem insignificant. It had made her forget about the parts of her body that cried out for rest. To begin with, at least, she’d been happy not to break the trance by talking. She’d wanted to keep it untarnished by any cliché or regret. But then the lack of communication had started to bite and the longer it went on, the more it strengthened the notion that, as far as Jet was concerned, it seemed like it had never happened. Had it just been a way to pass the time until they could get moving again? What on earth was he thinking about what had happened? About her?

In those few seconds of standing there, staring at the group of people that represented their return to the real world, Becca was snapped well out of any remnants of that trance. The thought that she and Jet might have to
talk about what they’d done was both terrifying and inevitable. How could they not talk about it? But how could they talk about it without talking about everything else from the past?

Maybe the opportunity had already gone, anyway. They weren’t alone any more.

Becca tried to say something in greeting to these people but that failed as much as the smile had. Her throat was too tight. She’d be able to blame the quality of the air for that. Or sheer exhaustion. If tears escaped, she could use the same excuses.

Jet didn’t seem to be anything like as affected as she was, which only added weight to the fear that none of it had meant that much to him.

‘Sorry we’re a bit late, folks.’ He was easing the pack off his back to put it down beside the life pack. ‘Had a bit of a hiccup with the landing.’

‘Oh, my God.’ A woman stood up and came towards them. ‘We knew you were due to arrive when the eruption happened this morning. We were sure there’d been an accident and that … you wouldn’t have survived.’ She was peering at them more closely. Taking in the wound on Jet’s forehead and Becca’s bandaged arm. ‘Are you OK?’

‘A drink of water would be very welcome,’ Jet responded. ‘And then fill me in on what’s needed here.’

Becca saw other people starting to move. Someone was bringing them water bottles.

‘You must be hungry,’ someone else said. ‘We’ve been cooking sausages on the fire. It’s nothing flash but there’s plenty of bread and tomato sauce.’

Jet lowered his bottle and wiped a trickle of water
from his chin. ‘Sounds awesome but save me some for later. I’m here for the patients.’

‘Jack’s the worst,’ a young woman said, her voice hitching. ‘He’s … got a bad head injury. And Roger … his leg looks awful.’

‘Jack’s conscious,’ the first woman put in. ‘But he’s not making much sense and he just wants to sleep.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Over there.’

Becca was beginning to realise why it was only a small group close to the fire. A tent-type shelter was off to one side and she could see people lying on the ground with others crouched over them. More people were over by the shadowy outline of a half-collapsed wooden building and sounds of hammering could be heard.

Jet was also scanning the area. He frowned at the sound of the hammering. ‘You had people trapped, yes?’

‘We got three of them out with only minor injuries, thank goodness. Adam’s still stuck. His leg’s caught badly. A couple of the guys are trying to shore things up to make it stable enough to saw through the beam that he’s caught under.’

Jet’s frown deepened. ‘Do they know what they’re doing?’

‘Bruce is a qualified urban search and rescue technician. He’s in charge.’

Jet nodded, clearly satisfied with the credentials. What would he have done if he wasn’t? Becca wondered. Taken on an extrication task as well as patient management? Quite likely.

‘Is Adam conscious?’

‘Yes. He’s in a lot of pain. We’ve got some pretty heavy-duty painkiller tablets here but they don’t seem to have helped much.’

‘I’ll be able to deal with that.’ Jet had his pack dangling by one hand. ‘Jack and Roger had better be first on the list, though.’ He waved his free hand at the life pack. ‘Can someone bring that, please?’ He was already heading towards the tent.

Becca had had a good drink of water. She shook her head at the sausage wrapped in bread that someone was offering her. It could wait. Picking up the life pack and following Jet might have been a kind of apology for losing most of that bag of extra supplies. Or maybe she simply wanted to be the one who helped him.

There were three people lying under the canvas awning. The area was well lit by kerosene lamps and the patients had blankets both underneath and on top of them. They even had pillows. Only one appeared to be unconscious and that had to be Jack. He had a bloodstained bandage around his head and a woman was sitting beside him, holding his hand.

‘I’m Erica,’ she introduced herself. ‘I’m a nurse.’

‘Excellent.’ Jet unzipped his pack and started opening pockets. ‘You can get me up to speed, Erica. I’m Jet Munroe, by the way. ED doctor and army medic. And this is Becca.’

Becca could see the way Erica drew in a deep breath, smiled and then released the breath in an audible sigh of relief. She nodded at Becca but the respect on her face increased noticeably as her gaze returned to Jet. If anyone could help Jack and the others, he could.

She put down the life pack, feeling a little out of place. Jet was a doctor. He had a nurse to assist him.
A young and rather attractive one at that. It had been many years since she had worked as either a nurse or an ambulance officer and her skills as a pilot were hardly going to be helpful here. There wasn’t that much room in the tent so maybe she should go back to the fire and leave them to it. She could have something to eat except, strangely, she didn’t feel at all hungry.

Nobody seemed to notice her taking a step back. And then another, until she found herself in a corner, where she sank down to sit, wrapping her arms around her knees. Exhaustion, and probably very low blood sugar, were making her feel spaced out. Oddly detached. As though she wasn’t actually here at all. She was invisible. Floating above the scene and simply taking it in. She wasn’t consciously watching or thinking about any of it, she was just there. Absorbing what she saw and how it made her feel.

Jet remembered to pull some gloves out from his pack and put them on. She saw him pause and look up as he pulled the second one in place. Looking for her? Because wearing gloves was a kind of personal joke now—a thread of new connection that had contributed to the resurrection of a much older and much stronger one? Or maybe he was just getting his head around where he needed to start work. The glance was brief, anyway, and didn’t take in the direction that included where she was sitting so quietly. If he had thought of her at all, he’d probably assumed she’d done the sensible thing and gone to find some food and rest.

Which was exactly what she should be doing but she wasn’t connected enough to her own body at the moment to make it happen. She watched Jet become the professional medic he was as he turned his attention to
the injured people who needed him. The man with the bandaged head. Another with an injured leg. An older man who looked grey but had no obvious injuries to be seen. Jet talked to them. He laid his hands on them to examine their injuries. He pulled out gear and supplies to begin treating them.

He stuck electrodes on the first patient’s chest and Becca could hear him quizzing Erica.

‘How long was he unconscious for to begin with?

‘Does he have any other injuries you’ve noticed?’

He cut away the remains of clothing around another young man’s broken leg. Erica drew up the drugs he requested for pain relief and they talked about needing to straighten the limb. That would have to wait until he’d assessed the final patient here, the older man.

Utterly focussed, he managed to move with speed but it was obvious how thorough he was being. Becca had no idea how much time was passing as she sat there unnoticed. Maybe she even dozed for a while and some of her thoughts and impressions were a dream. About a doctor who was also a soldier. A real-life hero.

If these people were in any danger, Jet was the man to save them. They had known that back at headquarters, of course, and that was why they’d gone to the lengths of having him rushed to the rescue base by private plane.

But if he was so damn brilliant, why hadn’t he saved Matt’s life? Had he had the same abilities and skills as a newly qualified doctor? He must have had some of them. Maybe he just hadn’t bothered using them on his best friend. Her brother.

The old anger was still there, wasn’t it? Simmering not far beneath the surface. It made her feel more awake again and in a way it was almost comforting. Easier to
accept than the wildly confusing feelings that had been aroused when Jet had been making love to her.

So Becca found herself nursing that old anger. Watching Jet with her eyes narrowed now, feeling even more detached from what was happening around her.

The nurse, Erica, was helping him. They were taking the blood pressure of the older man. Jet was putting in an IV line and Erica was hanging up a bag of fluids. Becca could hear the way they were talking to each other. Like trusted colleagues.