Beyond Redemption (15 page)

Mitch stepped forward, legs slightly apart, pistols gripped in his hands. “Can you see me now, General?”

Medina stiffened. “You’re one of the mercenaries.”

Mitch smiled and shook his head. “Correct, but that doesn’t mean I won’t blow your fucking head off, General. You made my woman bleed. I’ve killed better men than you for less than that.”

Mendoza stepped forward and glared at him. “I was going to tell Alejandro about you tonight, Major Acosta.” His gaze swiveled to Medina. “He and his friend are Special Forces. They’ve been sent here to find your prized hostage.” He laughed and looked over at Acosta. “Your cousins Arturo and Graciella send their regards. Of course, Arturo had an unfortunate accident, but Graciella…lovely Graciella is tied to a bed in one of the camps, servicing the revolution in the way a woman does best.”

Brutality was a way of life in Colombia, and his cousins weren’t his immediate concern. Hell, he didn’t even know them. The only thing of any importance to him was Angelique. He cut his eyes in her direction. “Come to me, Angel,” he said, his gaze immediately returning to Medina. The son of a bitch was trying to decide if Mitch was serious. He kept one of the GLOCKs pointed at Mendoza. “The other girl too. Both of you walk to me.”

Medina’s face twisted with anger as Angelique pried his fingers from her neck and ducked beneath his outstretched arm. The man was literally shaking with rage. It was all Mitch could do to keep from cursing when she skittered to her companion and released the girl from Mendoza’s grasp. The murdering bastard bared his teeth at her, but she faced him down and dragged the frightened woman behind her.

“Tell your men to put their weapons away, General. I’m not here alone.”

Medina and Mendoza both had guns pointed at Mitch. “You think I am fool enough to believe that bluff?” Medina scoffed.

Mitch grinned. “Angel, press this mic to my throat, would you?” She did, and Mitch said, “Somebody spray a few rounds on the ground in front of these assholes, let ’em see I’m not bluffing.”

The smell of dirt and gunpowder flavored the air as gunfire showered them with dark, rich loam. “Believe me now, General?”

The rebel soldiers lowered their weapons, and Mitch blew out a sigh of relief—until the sound of choppers filled the air. The gloom was filled with bright light as the choppers flooded the area. Ecuadoran Army soldiers rappelled from three helos, adding to the mayhem.

“Son of a bitch!” Mitch screamed. “Move, move, move!” Angel and the other hostage ran toward the forest, but Medina was quicker, grabbing the unidentified woman by her hair, hauling her against him. Mitch got off two rounds, striking Mendoza. One squarely in the chest, the other right between the eyes. He had to love a GLOCK 36. “Fucking parasite.”

Medina held the hostage in front of him, using her as a human shield while his pistol tracked Mitch, who dived sideways. Mitch grunted as he fired, hitting the general in the ankle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Seth emerge from the jungle like an avenging angel, his M16 and semiautomatic pistol spraying the revolutionary troops. Face painted camo green and black, howling like a demented werewolf, he maintained a constant barrage into the insurgents’ ranks. Seth tossed Angelique a GLOCK, and she dived into the jungle and disappeared from sight.

Dirt spit in Mitch’s face, and he dived, rolled again, and rose up, his back arching off the damp ground as he sighted his pistol at an approaching rebel. Too little, too late. The young man died, but Mitch looked up, right into the barrel of Medina’s gun.

Horror stopped his heart when Angelique shouted, “Hey, asshole!” Pistol steady in her hand, she fired, the shot missing Medina. The general uttered a curse before pulling the trigger. Mitch felt his chest explode with fireworks of pain. Medina turned and ran like the coward that was the hallmark of any bully, taking the hostage with him.

Warm blood flowed over his skin, and Mitch wondered how long it would take him to die. Would there be time for him to tell his Angel he loved her? Had loved her from the moment he saw her? Then he heard her shouting at him.

“Jesus, Acosta, you asshole, don’t you die on me!”

He gave her a pained laugh as she dropped to her knees at his side.

“There’s my Angel, cussing me as usual.” He was teasing her with his dying breath, and that was just fine with him, so long as her face was the last thing he saw before the devil dragged him to hell. He choked when she ripped his shirt open and whipped hers over her head, pressing it to his wound. He gasped. Oh God, he’d rather be boiled in oil than have her pressing against his chest like that! Pain as fierce as a thousand heated daggers pierced him, and he was afraid he’d pass out before he could speak his heart.

She was crying, leaning over him, bare breasted and sobbing like a baby. He chuckled, crying out as the pain washed over him. “Flashing a dying man, Angel. Hell of a bedside manner. Is that any way to treat the man who loves you?” Tears splashed on his face as everything went black.

“NOOO! OPEN YOUR eyes, you fucker. I love you too. You are not allowed to die on me.” Angelique howled in grief. “You get up, do you hear me, Acosta? Get on your feet, soldier!” She pressed her fingers against his neck and shouted with joy when she found a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was a pulse. She shouted for Seth and began barking orders. “Help me get him to the surgery. Find the medic.” Again to Seth, “Make sure one of those choppers can stay to transport him back to the clinic.”

Seth grabbed her by her shoulders. “Breathe, cher, and put this on.” He pulled his sweaty T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Can’t have you runnin’ across the compound flashing a bunch of injured men.”

Angelique uttered a hysterical little laugh. “That’s what he said.” A sob escaped her. “That I had a hell of a bedside manner, flashing him like that.” She climbed to her feet as Seth lifted Mitch into his arms.

She matched his stride as he carried his friend as gently as if he were carrying a baby. “Tell me what else you need, cher, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Blood. O-neg, as much as you can find. Ask the medic, he’ll know blood types. Just bring them in here and wash them down in alcohol. I’ll take it straight from their arms and put it into him.”

Angelique gave herself the mother of all pep talks as she pulled off her bloody clothes and changed into fresh scrubs. She scoured herself and stepped into the operating room, praying she didn’t kill the man she loved.

Oh shit, I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s one of the first things we’re taught in medical school. Don’t treat your own.

There was no choice. If she didn’t get Mitch stabilized for transport, he would likely die before they got back to the clinic. She donned fresh gloves and stepped up to the table. She was going to have to cut into the chest of the man she loved, and she was going to have to do it without benefit of a single X-ray. It was worse than meatball surgery. She could very well kill him. As she reached for the scalpel to insert a chest tube, Angelique murmured the first real prayer she’d recited in years.

It took forty-five minutes to get Mitch stabilized. She’d inserted a chest tube, and blood gushed from his chest. Thank God for the golden hour, the time period immediately after to several hours after a traumatic injury. During this time the odds were better that speedy medical treatment would save the patient’s life. In theory. The fact that she’d managed to get the chest tube in was a minor miracle.

Seth, bless his determined Cajun heart, had bullied and cajoled people into donating blood. Under the medic’s direction, he even managed to fill a couple of liter bags to put on ice and transport with them in case Mitch needed them. In less than an hour, the four of them were aboard a military chopper and headed for the small hospital.

Dr. Shepherd met them at the edge of the field with a gurney, and Mitch was rushed into surgery. Despite all her bullying, Angelique was not allowed to assist. Seth had to hold her back as the doors to the operating room closed behind the doctor and his team.

Angelique was numb with worry and fatigue as Seth led her to her quarters. Shock. She knew the symptoms well enough but couldn’t seem to shake them. He ducked inside to get her shampoo, soap, and bathrobe.

“Come on, beb. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

She looked longingly back at the hospital as he led her to the south end of the camp. “You can see him the minute he comes out of surgery. They say no, I’ll hold a gun on ’em until they change their mind.”

The hot water made her sleepy, as did Seth’s strong fingers massaging her scalp. It was dark, so she didn’t see the blood sluicing off her body.

“You did real good, cher. You need to know that. Acosta’s strong as an ox; he’s gonna live to make a half dozen do-gooder babies with you, you hear me?” She nodded dumbly. “Angel, you gotta snap out of it now. That boy’s gonna need you when he wakes up.”

She wanted to snap out of it, really she did, but she was afraid if she let herself feel, she would lose her mind. Acosta was probably going to die from his injury, and that was the one thing she couldn’t face. Seth was pushing too hard, and he needed to stop. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she growled, swinging her elbow back.

Seth pinned her arm between her shoulder blades and shoved her hard against the shower wall.

“You wanna get rough with me,
pischouette
?”

Angelique growled. More than anything she hated to be called a little girl. “Let go before I kick your fucking ass, Boudreaux.”

Seth laughed. “I’m impressed that you think you can, beb. I’m gonna find that bastard for you, Angel, and I’m gonna kill him. For you and for Acosta. I’ll get your friend back too.”

Angelique sagged against him. “Good. You find her, Seth. They’ve had Taffe for nearly a year. She needs to go home.”

Behind her, Seth stiffened. “Taffe, you said?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned. I been searchin’ every square inch of Colombia for that girl, and she’s been in Ecuador the whole time?”

Angelique gasped and turned around to face him. “That’s what you and Acosta have been doing here all this time? And you let me think the worst?”

Seth wrapped his arms around her. “And shame on you for thinkin’ it, cher.”

Seth stood back from the propeller wash and watched as Acosta was loaded onto a medevac helicopter. The entire refugee camp had turned out to wish his friend a safe journey and to bid farewell to Angelique. The pretty blonde doctor hugged every one of them, tears coursing down her cheeks. Seth knew she hated leaving them behind, but neither could she bear the thought of letting Mitch leave without her. She’d come too close to losing him, and she’d damn well see he did exactly what the doctors ordered him to do so he would completely recover from his injury. When the last hug had been doled out to villagers and staff alike, Seth blew out a harsh breath. He was next, and saying good-bye to this particular woman would be one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. What had begun as mutual itch scratching so many years ago had turned into a deep and abiding friendship, at least for him. He opened his arms, and Angelique stepped into them.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done to keep us safe. You and Acosta. You know that, right? Always will,” Angelique told him, her voice cracking.

“I know that, beb,” he said. “You take care of my boy, ya hear? Y’all’s part of the mission’s over. And when the mission’s over, you stand down. You get on that transport, and you don’t look back, you hear me, cher? You don’t look back.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“You never know, beb. Us Boudreaux boys tend to show up in the damnedest places. Go on now; they’re waiting.”

She cupped his cheeks with her soft hands. “Be safe, ya hear?”

“I guarantee.”

She wiped her eyes and gave him a quick kiss, then turned and ran for the chopper. The door closed behind her, the engine revved, and the ungainly machine rose into a brilliantly blue sky. He’d always been a little bit in love with the feisty doc, but Acosta was his partner, so he’d kept his feelings to himself, and now all he felt was an occasional twinge. He watched the bird climb, just to see if she looked back. And damn her eyes, she did. Her tiny hand pressed against the window.

“Well fuck. So long, beb. Have a good life.”

Seth joined the throng and headed back up the hill. He’d gather his gear and head back into the jungle, see if he couldn’t pick up Medina’s trail. He’d made a promise to Angelique that he’d find the bastard who’d shot Mitch and make him pay. And he still had to find Taffe Thurgood and return her to the loving arms of her family.

Seth hauled his pack into the ratty little cantina at the end of town and ordered a beer. The compound was no longer a place of comfort without Mitch and Angelique here. He finished his beer, slung his pack over his shoulder, and stepped around the back of the ramshackle cantina to take a piss. As he zipped up his cargo shorts, he heard the familiar sound of a shell racking into the chamber of a pistol.

“Señor Boudreaux, we meet again.”

Seth turned slowly, hands in the air. He grinned at the little man holding the pistol.

“García.”

“Sí. You will come with me, eh? General Medina requires your presence. You have much to answer for, Yankee.” García poked Seth’s ribs with the gun. “I think maybe soon you die.”

Seth grinned. He was a hard man to kill, but no need to share that information with García. “Tomorrow’s as good a day as any. I guarantee,” he said and stepped out onto the trail.