Commando by Lindsay McKenna

antiseptics. Jake felt as if he’d stepped back a century in time. As he scrubbed up, he checked out the antiquated facilities. There was very little here except the most necessary of equipment and medicines, he realized as he gazed at the glass cabinet above the sink. He glanced around the room and saw with growing anger that whoever had attacked the village had hurt at least twenty people. Sickened, he hurried over to where Shah stood waiting for him. Expertly she slipped the surgical gloves onto his hands.

    “There are two more men who are seriously hurt,” she told him breathlessly. “Pai Jose is so tired. You’ll have to watch him, Jake. His hands aren’t as steady…”

    He smiled tiredly down at her. “I’ll take care of this, darlin’. You go do whatever else needs to be done.”

    Darlin’. The endearment gave Shah sustenance and strength when she felt as if her knees were going to cave in beneath her. She lost herself momentarily in the warm gray of Jake’s gaze—that same feeling of powerful protection again embracing her. But this time she didn’t fight it or deny it. Absorbing Jake’s care, she felt like a plant welcoming sunlight onto its leaves for the first time. Then, forcing herself to snap out of the inexplicable magic that bound them, she stepped away from him.

    “I’m glad you’re okay,” she quavered.

    He gave her a grim smile. “You’re the one I was worried about.”

    Shah knew they didn’t have time to talk; there were too many wounded to be attended to. Turning away, she blinked back tears. Tears! Her emotions frayed and raw from the attack, Shah didn’t try to rationalize them away this time: they were tears of relief that Jake wasn’t dead. She headed toward the wall, where several of the less seriously wounded sat or stood, waiting patiently for treatment. A gamut of emotions smothered Shah, making her dizzy. How could Jake Randolph have come to mean so much to her in so short a time? He was the enemy.

Chapter Five

    “S hah, let me take you to your hut. You’re ready to keel over.”
    The instant Jake’s hands curved around her slumped shoulders where she sat at a table in the hospital, Shah capitulated. The heat of the day was rising, and although all the windows were open to allow air to flow sluggishly through the long, rectangular area, the room was stifling. For an instant, she rested against his large, caring hands, but just for an instant. Straightening, she pulled away from the contact with him and got to her feet.

    “I guess most of the emergencies are over,” she said wearily.

    Jake put his hands on his hips and surveyed Shah intently. It was nearly noon, and help had arrived from another mission nearby. Five nuns were now caring for the wounded, but he knew that Shah would stay on to help unless someone made her take care of herself.

    “For now,” he agreed quietly. Her hair, once loose, was now captured by a rubber band behind her head, the ebony strands drawn into a ponytail that almost reached her waist. He watched as Shah, with some difficulty, pulled the once-white surgical gown off her shoulders. Her golden eyes were dark with anguish.

    “Here, I’ll take that. One of the Tucanos women is out back with a big black kettle, boiling the hell out of anything used for the surgeries.”

    Shah forced a tired smile—one that she didn’t feel but felt Jake deserved. “Thanks. You sound so chipper—as if nothing had happened.” She looked up into his harsh features. Jake’s eyes were red-rimmed, as she was sure hers must be, and his mouth was a slash, holding back the unexpressed feelings she knew he carried.

    Taking a huge risk, Jake reached over and settled his hand again on her shoulder. “I’ve been through this kind of thing a few times more than you have,” he said. “Come on, I’ll walk you down the hill to your hut.”

    His hand was at once supportive and sheltering. Shah wanted to surrender to the powerful care that emanated