What would it be like to share pleasure with her? Whoa, had the noon sun gone to his head? That wasn’t something he should be thinking about in regard to any of his staff and certainly not about this too young, too idealistic newcomer. Life had taught him that picking women wasn’t his strong suit.
Chance released her arm as if it had turned into a hot coal. “I’ll see you in the clinic. You’ll be working with Michael this afternoon until I think you know the ropes well enough to handle cases on your own.”
Ellen didn’t know what had gotten into Chance but she was relieved that she didn’t have to assist him. Working with Michael was easy and fun so why did it seem anticlimactic next to helping Chance? There was an intriguing intensity about him that tugged at her.
He had seemed so much larger than life when she’d heard him speak. The passion and compassion he felt for the people of Honduras had vibrated through her with each of his words. She’d been drawn to this place. But she’d fought too long and too hard to make her own decisions and Chance was too bossy for her taste. She didn’t need another man overseeing her life.
One of the girls who’d had her nails done was Chance’s patient at the next table. Despite having her back to them, Ellen overheard him say, “Your nails are so pretty.”
She smiled. Mr. Gruff and Groan might have a heart after all.
During the rest of the afternoon and into the dimming light of evening came the continuing blur of people with open wounds, bug bites, sores, to serious birth defects. Thunder rolled in the distance and the wind whipped the tent as the last of the patients were being seen.
“Get started on putting things away. We need to get on the road before this hits,” Chance called to everyone as he finished cleaning a wound on the calf of his last patient, a middle-aged man.
Ellen began storing the supplies in the van. As she passed by Chance he said, “Ellen, would you get an antibiotic out of the med cabinet for me?” He held up a key attached to a ring.
“Sure.” Her hand brushed his larger one as she took it. A tingle went through her. Why this reaction to him of all people? She wasn’t looking for that. Hadn’t come here expecting it. She hurried toward the van.
Entering the vehicle, she made her way down the small isle to where the med box was located. Constructed of metal and bolted to the floor for security, it was situated behind the bench seat. She went down on her knees in front of it. The light was so poor she fumbled with the key in the lock. Slipping her hand into the side leg pocket of her cargo pants, she pulled out her penlight. She balanced it on a nearby shelf, directing the beam toward the lock.
The screech of the driver’s door opening drew her attention. She glanced over her shoulder. A thin young man held a knife in her direction. Fear made her heart pound. Her hand holding the lock shook. She opened her mouth to scream.
The man leaned over the seat bring the knife to her neck. “Tranquillo.”
Ellen remained quiet as he’d asked. She glanced out the end of the van. What was she going to do? She couldn’t give him the meds and she had to protect the others.
The tip of the knife was pushed against her skin. The man hovered over her. He smelled of sweat and wet clothes.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“The drugs,” the man bit out. “Open the box.”
The urgent demand in his voice told her he meant business. When she didn’t immediately move he pressed the knife against her and growled, “Now.”
Panic welled in her. She couldn’t give him the drugs but the blade at her neck reminded her that she couldn’t put him off long either.
With relief and renewed alarm she heard Chance call, “Ellen?”
“Say no word,” the man whispered, slipping down behind the seat but still holding the knife to her neck.
She had to warn Chance.
* * *
Why hadn’t Ellen returned? Chance headed toward the van.
He had finished applying the bandage around the man’s leg. All he needed to do now was give him the antibiotics and they could get on the road. A commotion outside caught his attention. A young man who looked like he was in his twenties was being helped into the tent by another Honduran about the same age. There was a rag soaked in blood on his arm. Michael and Karen were aiding them. Marco and one of his men had started setting up the exam table they had just folded. They could handle the situation. He wanted to know what Ellen was doing.
He instructed his patient to remain where he was. The rear of the van had been driven under the back of the tent. The area was shadowy because the portable lamps were being used around the exam tables. With the dimming light of the day, compounded by the storm, it was hard to see.
As Chance neared the open doors he saw the small glow of what must be Ellen’s penlight. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?”
She was on her knees on the floor, facing the medicine box. Her head turned slowly toward him. Even in the disappearing light Chance could see the fear in her eyes. She looked as if she was imploring him to leave. There was a slight movement behind her. Ellen shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Chance kept eye contact and nodded. “Hurry up, I need those meds.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir? She knew he didn’t like being called sir. Something was definitely wrong.
He backed away from the van. The others were still busy with the injured patient. Rushing past them and outside, he started round the tent when he met Marco. In a low voice he told him that Ellen was in trouble and to give him to the count of ten then run inside the clinic, hollering for help. Marco nodded and Chance circled the outside of the tent until he could see the driver’s side van door. It stood open. He could make out the outline of a man in the seat with his back to the door and one leg on the running board. Dread seized him. The man must have a weapon on Ellen.
Giving thanks for the storm brewing, which would cover any noise he made, Chance moved out to the edge of the clearing and followed it around until he was facing the front of the van. When the thunder rolled again Chance ran as fast as he could and slammed his body into the door. The man let out a startled yelp and twisted in the seat, reaching for his leg. Chance grabbed the door and swung it hard again. This time it hit the man in the head and he dropped to the ground, along with a knife.
“Ellen!” Chance barked. “Ellen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sounded shaken.
Marco joined him. Chance left him to tie the vandal up while he climbed into the van. Looking over the seat, he saw Ellen still sitting on the floor, with her head in her hands. “Are you hurt?”
She said nothing.
He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ellen, are you hurt? Did he cut you?”
Slowly she looked up. “No.” She held up his keys. “And I didn’t let him get any drugs. Do I get atta-girl points?”
“Hell, woman, I’d
