that it’s going to hang around for two more days before we get some clearing.”
Alanna crossed her legs, resting her arms on her thighs. “But you mentioned you were trucking up the supplies earlier.”
“The trucks can only go so far and so fast. With choppers we can zip in and out, pick up the worst injuries, and have them down here for initial medical help in no time. I’ve got ten cases that require surgery, and now they’re going to have to be carried over five miles on a stretcher to the jeeps, then bounced over these mountain roads to the hospital. Or, I can leave them up there waiting, and they might die during the night.” He glanced over at her, his eyes broadcasting his undisguised concern. “Truck or auto is no way to transport people who need emergency medical treatment. They can die of shock in a matter of hours.”
“You sound as if you know a great deal about it.”
He shrugged, staring back into the darkness. “I’m a paramedic.”
“I didn’t know Marine officers practiced medicine,” she commented, looking at him in a different light. The senator had always accused Breckenridge of being a bloody warmonger after a high body count. This was the second time that Alanna saw that claim refuted. He was an engineer who built structures and a paramedic who saved lives.
Matt shut his eyes, resting his head on his arm. “I was in a special contingent of the Marine Corps.”
“What was that?”
“Recons.”
Alanna felt genuine compassion flood her breast. He seemed so drained. In the pallid light, his skin looked taut and washed out. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with them.”
“Most people aren’t. It’s a special branch of the Marine Corps that is molded into a crack surveillance unit to penetrate behind enemy lines. The reconnaisance information gained can be very important when our troops have to engage the enemy. We recorded troop movements for a period of five to ten days and then helicoptered out to the safety of our own lines. In a way, Recons save the lives of many men.”
She shivered. “It sounds awfully dangerous.”
“It can be.”
“Is that why you became a paramedic, then?”
“Each member of the Recon team had to be a specialist in some field. I picked the medical end.” He raised his head, rubbing his face slowly. “At least there was some honor in trying to save a life instead of having to take one.”
She looked at him strangely, wondering at the softness in his voice. “I don’t understand.”
He smiled almost bashfully. “I delivered six babies while I was over in Nam. It sort of made up for the rest of it…. It gave me a clean feeling. Bringing life into the world instead of only watching it being taken.”
“You delivered babies?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Alanna withheld her comment. It was a cruel one that he didn’t deserve. He met her gaze fully, assessing her silently.
“You wonder how a trained soldier like me can revel in giving life rather than taking it, don’t you?”
She trembled inwardly, suddenly tearing her gaze away from his weary features. How frighteningly honest he was. And how accepting he was of her less than compassionate view of him. It had to hurt him to see the way she stereotyped him because of the career he had chosen. Her brows drew downward, and she refused to answer, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. The moments lengthened uncomfortably between them, and she licked her lips.
“Does—doesn’t it bother you that people are repelled by your profession?”
“It used to when I was younger. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve been through so much in such a short period of time, it’s easy to separate what’s really important in living and what is not.”
“You make it sound as if you went through hell.”
He managed a patient smile. “Everyone has his or her own conception of hell, Alanna. Take yourself: you view this experience as hell. There’s no bed, no hot water, very little food. To me, this is luxury. I’ve spent too many years sleeping on the hard ground, in water-filled foxholes or in trees hiding from the enemy. A wood floor and a sleeping bag seems like heaven.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “So you see, hell is a relative term, depending upon your past experiences.”
“Obviously,” she agreed quietly, gaining new and increasing respect for him, regardless of what the senator had said. He wasn’t trying to cajole her or twist her thinking. And she knew it. Alanna was almost positive he rarely talked this way to anyone, and that knowledge confused her. She was his enemy. She was out to ruin his military career by proving he was a smuggler. Guilt twinged at her conscience as she watched him. There was a quiet calmness that emanated from him as steadily as a beacon shining in the darkness. A depth of peace and a rock solidness that made her feel protected. And if something did go wrong, she knew Matt would do everything in his power to save her.
She jolted herself back to reality. What on earth was she doing? He was no knight in shining armor on a white steed. Alanna, you’re too old to allow romantic thoughts to sway you from the position you’ve taken, she chided herself.
“Look,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m going to try to catch a few hours’ sleep. Are you warm enough with these?”
“Yes. Will you be warm enough? I mean, you’ve only got one—”
Matt rose, ambling over to the corner and shutting off the kerosene lamp. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Good night.”
She snuggled back down into the wiry wool blankets, pulling her legs up and curling into a kittenlike position. She heard him unlacing his boots and setting them on the floor. Soon, quietness pervaded the small room, and only muted voices in the next room and the constant sharp static of the radios interrupted the silence. Some time before she returned to sleep, she thought she heard the softened breathing of Matt Breckenridge and knew he had finally found an edge of peace in sleep.
* * *
Alanna awoke slowly, feeling drugged and groggy. Voices, low and urgent, became intelligible as she struggled out of the stupor. She forced her eyes open. A wedge of light slipped through the partially opened door, and she focused her attention on the whispered conversation.
“Matt, we’ve got to get up there….”
“What are the weather conditions, Cauley?” he mumbled.
A sigh of exasperation broke from the other man. “The same. Dammit, we’ve got three children up there that were just found under a fallen structure. Two are seriously injured, and the third is close to death. If we can get a chopper up there and—”
“You’re asking me to risk one of only three choppers, plus you, the pilot. I won’t allow it, Cauley. It doesn’t make any sense to lose one-third of our aircraft for an emergency flight in below-minimum conditions. Use your head.”
“Matt…please…dammit, one of those kids is only four years old! I can fly it. God, how many times did I fly you and your team
