“Take your time, Doc,” he told her, his voice husky. “I’ve seen this level of suffering over in Somalia and Kosovo. It takes some getting used to.” And he managed a twisted one-cornered smile that let her know he understood what she was going through.
Choking, Sam bowed her head and shut her eyes tightly. It took everything she had to force down her unraveling emotions. Afraid to talk for fear of bursting into tears of sympathy for those suffering so badly below them, she simply nodded to let him know she’d heard him.
Finally, after what seemed interminable minutes, Sam took a long, unsteady breath. There. Her emotions were tamped way down deep once more. Giving Gunnison a quick glance, she whispered, “Thanks…I’m okay now. You can step back.”
Roc nodded and did as she instructed, though his protective instincts were running full bore. He knew Dr. Andrews needed a human touch. To be held. To be told everything would be okay. But he knew better than to take her in his arms. Besides, his experience in Kosovo and Somalia had taught him that sometimes things didn’t always turn out okay and that the situation below was truly chaotic.
As he stepped back to give her room to get to her feet, he watched her closely. Even though Andrews was dressed in the mannish navy uniform, her bulky flak jacket hiding her womanly assets, she was incredibly graceful, like a ballerina to him. He wanted to ignore her femininity, but found himself absorbing her into his heart like a starving animal instead. That disgusted him, because Roc knew her to be a red-haired witch of the worst sort and his nemesis on this mission, despite the emotions he had just witnessed.
As Sam carefully made her way back to her seat and sank into it, Roc continued to stand, just in case she lost her footing again. The good doctor wasn’t used to walking on the heaving deck of a helo as he was.
Once she was seated and strapped in, Roc moved forward. “My map?” he said, extending his hand.
“Oh!” Sam quickly held it out to him as he bent over her, one hand on the overhead strap to keep from falling. The instant their fingertips met, she had the crazy urge to jerk away. But she didn’t. That would look childish to her people, who were watching them with curiosity.
“Thanks,” she managed to reply in a strangled tone. As she looked up into his darkened eyes, she saw his mouth twitch wryly.
“You’re welcome, Dr. Andrews.”
Feeling inept and completely out of her league, Sam turned away, looking anywhere other than at Gunnison, who sat down right across from her. She heard the engine change and felt the chopper begin to sink earthward. Swallowing repeatedly, Sam tried to gather her thoughts. What was going on? Was it seeing the awful devastation that had her so shaken up? Was she in shock?
She didn’t want to give Gunnison credit for any sympathy. The man made her feel like an awkward teenage girl who had a crush on the star football player.
How ridiculous! Jerking off the earphones, Sam dropped them in her lap. She didn’t want to talk to Gunnison. He took off his earphones, too, his face once again inscrutable.
He’s just doing his job, Sam told herself. Calm down, will you? He’s got you rattled. He probably did it on purpose, just to keep you off balance. Get your stuff together, woman. Don’t let him intimidate you.
Sam continued to berate herself with that litany until they landed. Outside, dust rose in thick yellow clouds around the helicopter, almost obliterating the marine in the distance who held a pair of orange flags in his hands that signaled where they were to land.
Though it seemed like forever to Sam, a few minutes later the engines were shut off and the rotors stopped turning. When the blades came to a halt, the loadmaster on the flight unlocked the sliding door and hauled it open. As the dust filtered in, Sam saw a small group of people standing well beyond the range of the blades, waiting with anxious looks on their faces. She watched as Gunnison got up and ordered his team to move out. She waited until the five-man Recon team disembarked. Then she unstrapped her seat belt and looked at her own team.
“Okay, we’re here,” she told them. “Let’s go.”
As she stood on the lip of the cargo bay, ready to jump down, a hand appeared: Gunnison’s large, heavily scarred palm and fingers. Mesmerized by the sight, she noted that his fingers were long and strong looking, his nails blunt cut. Under any other circumstances she’d have found his hands beautiful to look at. As she hesitated there, unsure of whether to accept his offer of help as he stood looking up at her, her mind was filled with the sudden unexpected image of his fingers trailing over her flesh.
Discombobulated by her tumbling thoughts, Sam reached out automatically and took his hand, gripping it as she eased down off the lip of the helo to the dusty ground. Quirking her lips, she barely looked at him as she jerked her hand out of his. Moving quickly away from him, she headed toward a male marine lieutenant and a woman in a deputy’s uniform beside him, who looked like the leaders of the group.
“Dr. Andrews?”
Sam halted in front of the marine, who was dressed similarly to Gunnison and his team. “Yes, that’s me.”
He smiled. “I’m Lieutenant Quinn Grayson. Welcome to area 5.” He saluted her.
Sam returned the salute. “Thanks, Lieutenant.” She turned her attention to the woman at his side. “And you must be Deputy Chelton?”
“Yes, I am, Doctor. Call me Kerry. We don’t stand on formality around here,” she replied, as she offered her hand.
Sam instantly liked the young woman. “Me, either. Call me Sam,” she said, shaking her hand warmly.
“Thanks, I will. We’re here to help you all we can.” She looked up at Grayson. “The lieutenant will take you to your tents. They just came in yesterday, and have been erected near ours. We’re looking like a tent city at this point.” Rubbing her hands together, Kerry added, “I’m sure you’re just as cold as we are. Winter mornings can be chilly even in Southern California. We’ve got hot coffee, hot chocolate and a warm stove waiting for you over at our main tent, which is where we plot and plan for area 5.”
“Great!” Sam exclaimed. “I’m freezing. The hot coffee sounds too good to be true.” She turned to her team. “Ready?”
They chorused in agreement, their smiles eager.
Sam saw Gunnison remaining behind with his men and the loadmaster on the flight. Frowning, she said, “Kerry, can you take my team over there? I’ve got to coordinate the off-loading of our supplies.”
“I can help,” Lieutenant Grayson said, stepping forward. “Let me direct them, ma’am. You go get warm with your team. Kerry will show you where you’re going.”
Sam hesitated. It would be a relief to let Grayson deal with Gunnison and his men. “Okay, Lieutenant, you’ve got a deal. Ask Captain Gunnison to join us when he’s done?”
Quinn nodded. “Of course, ma’am. It’ll take only a few minutes to get your supplies into our storage tent, which is guarded twenty-four hours a day against theft. I’ll pass on your request to him.”
Good. Sam turned and smiled at Kerry. She seemed warm and gentle for someone who worked in police enforcement. Noting that Kerry moved slowly and with a limp, Sam came up beside her.
“Are you okay,
