Mackenzie's Pleasure (16 page)

animal howl rattled in his throat, and he arched in pain. "Santos!" she screamed, trying to hold

him down while still holding the chador in place.
"Santos!"

With a muttered curse the stocky medic shouldered her aside. He lifted the chador for a

second, then quickly pressed it into place and grabbed her hand, guiding it into position.

"Hold it," he rapped out. "Press down—hard."

There was no more gunfire, only the hum of the motor. Salt spray lashed her face as the

boat shot through the waves. The team maintained their discipline, holding their assigned positions.

"How bad is it?" Greenberg yelled.

Santos was working feverishly. "I need light!"

Almost instantly Greenberg had a flashlight shining down on them. Barrie bit her lip as

she saw how much blood had puddled around them. Zane's face was pasty white, his eyes halfshut as he gasped for breath.

"He's losing blood fast," Santos said. "Looks like the bullet got a kidney, or maybe his

spleen. Get that damn helicopter on the way. We don't have time to get into international

waters." He popped the cap off a syringe, straightened Zane's arm and deftly jabbed the needle

into a vein. "Hang on, boss. We're gonna get you airlifted outta here."

Zane didn't reply. He was breathing noisily through his clenched teeth, but when

Barrie glanced at him she could see the gleam of his eyes. His hand lifted briefly, touched

her arm, then fell heavily to his side.

"Damn you, Zane Mackenzie," she said fiercely. "Don't you
dare—"
She broke off. She

couldn't say the word, couldn't even admit to the possibility that he might die.

Santos was checking Zane's pulse. His eyes met hers, and she knew it was too fast, too

weak. Zane was going into shock, despite the injection Santos had given him.

' I don't give a damn how close in we still are!" Greenberg was yelling into the radio. "We

need a helo
now.
Just get the boss out of here and we'll wait for another ride!"

Despite the pitching of the boat, Santos got an IV line started and began squeezing a bag

of clear plasma into Zane's veins. "Don't let up on the pressure," he muttered to Barrie.

"I won't." She didn't take her gaze off Zane's face. He was still aware, still looking at her.

As long as that connection was maintained, he would be all right. He had to be.

The nightmare ride in the speeding boat seemed to take forever. Santos emptied the first

bag of plasma and connected a second one to the IV. He was cursing under his breath, his

invectives varied and explicit.

Zane lay quietly, though she knew he was in terrible pain. His eyes were dull with

pain and shock, but she could sense his concentration, his determination. Perhaps the only

way he could remain conscious was by focusing so intently on her face, but he managed it.

But if that helicopter didn't get there soon, not even his superhuman determination

would be able to hold out against continued blood loss. She wanted to curse, too, wanted to glare at

the night sky as if she could conjure a helicopter out of thin air, but she didn't dare look away from

Zane. As long as their gazes held, he would hold on.

She heard the distinctive
whap-whap-whap
only a moment before the Sea King helicopter

roared over them, blinding lights picking them out. Spooky throttled back, and the boat

settled gently onto the water. The helicopter circled to them and hovered directly overhead, the

powerful rotors whipping the sea into a frenzy. A basket dropped almost on their heads. Working

swiftly, Santos and Greenberg lifted Zane into the basket and strapped him in, maneuvering around

Barrie as she maintained pressure on the wound.

Santos hesitated, then indicated for her to let go and move back. Reluctantly she did. He

lifted the chador, then immediately jammed it back into place. Without a word he straddled the

basket, leaning hard on the wound. "Let's go!" he yelled. Greenberg stepped back and gave the

thumbs-up to the winch operator in the helicopter. The basket rose toward the hovering monster, with

Santos perched precariously on top of Zane. As the basket drew even with the open bay, several pairs

of hands reached out and drew them inward. The helicopter immediately lifted away, banking

hard, roaring toward the carrier.

There was an eerie silence left behind. Barrie slumped against one of the seats, her face

rigid with the effort of maintaining control. No one said a word. Spooky started the motor again,

and the little craft shot through the darkness, following the rapidly disappearing lights of the

helicopter.

It was over an hour before the second helicopter settled onto the deck of the huge carrier.

The remaining four members of the team leaped to the deck almost before the helicopter had touched

down. Barrie clambered after them, ran with them. Greenberg had one hand clamped on her

arm to make certain she didn't get left behind.

Someone in a uniform stepped in front of them. "Miss Lovejoy, are you all right?"

Barrie gave him a distracted glance and dodged around him. Another uniform popped up,

but this one was subtly different, as if the wearer belonged on board this gigantic ship. The

first man had worn a dress uniform, marking him as a non-crew member. Greenberg skidded to a

halt. "Captain—"

"Lieutenant-Commander Mackenzie is in surgery," the captain said. "Doc didn't think he'd

make it to a base with such a high rate of blood loss. If they can't get the bleeding stopped, they'll

have to remove his spleen."

The first uniformed officer had reached them. "Miss Lovejoy," he said firmly, taking her

arm. "I'm Major Hodson. I'll escort you home."

The military moved at its own pace, to its own rules. She was to be taken home

immediately; the ambassador wanted his daughter back. Barrie protested. She yelled, she

cried, she even swore at the harried major. None of it did any good. She was hustled aboard another

aircraft, this time a cargo transport plane. Her last glimpse of the
Montgomery
was as the

sun's first rays glistened on the blue waters of the Mediterranean, and the sight was blurred

by her tears.

By the time the transport touched down in Athens, Barrie had cried so hard and for so

long that her eyes were swollen almost shut. Major Hodson had tried everything to pacify her, then

to console her; he assured her that he was just following orders, and that she would be able to

find out bow the SEAL was doing later. It was understandable that she was upset. She'd been

through a lot, but she would have the best medical care—

At that, Barrie shot out of the uncomfortable web seat, which was all the transport plane

afforded.
"I'm
not the one who was shot!" she yelled furiously. "I don't need medical care, best,

worst or mediocre! I want to be taken to wherever Zane Mackenzie is taken. I don't care what

your orders are!"

Major Hodson looked acutely uncomfortable. He tugged at the collar of his uniform.

"Miss Lovejoy, I'm sorry. I can't do anything about this situation. After we're on the ground and

your father is satisfied that you're okay, then where you go is up to you."

His expression plainly said that as far as he was concerned, she could go to hell. Barrie sat

down, breathing hard and wiping away tears. She'd never acted like that before in her life.

She'd always been such a lady, a perfect hostess for her father.

She didn't feel at all ladylike now; she felt like a ferocious tigress, ready to shred anyone

who got in her way. Zane was severely wounded, perhaps dying, and these
fools
wouldn't let her be

with him. Damn military procedure, and damn her father's influence, for they had both

wrenched her away from him.

As much as she loved her father, she knew she would never forgive him if Zane died

and she wasn't there. It didn't matter that he didn't know about Zane; nothing mattered

compared to the enormous horror that loomed before her.
God, don't let him die!
She couldn't bear

it. She would rather have died herself at her kidnappers' hands than for Zane to be killed while

rescuing her.

The flight took less than an hour and a half. The transport landed with a hard thump

that jerked her in the web seat, then taxied for what seemed like an interminable length of time.

Finally it rolled to a stop, and Major Hodson stood, plainly relieved to be free of his unpleasant

burden.

A door was slid open, and a flight of steps rolled up to it. Clutching the black robe

around her, Barrie stepped out into the bright Athens sunlight. It was full morning now, the heat

already building. She blinked and lifted a hand to shield her eyes. It felt like forever since she'd

been in the sunshine.

A gray limousine with darkly tinted windows was waiting on the tarmac. The door

was shoved open, and her father bounded out, dignity forgotten as he ran forward.

"Barrie!" Two days of worry and fear lined his face, but there was an almost desperate relief in

his expression as he hurried up the steps to fold her in his arms.

She started crying again, or maybe she had never stopped. She buried her face against

his suit, clutching him with desperate hands. "I've got to go back," she sobbed, the words barely

intelligible.

He tightened his arms around her. "There, there, baby," he breathed. "You're safe now,

and I won't let anything else happen to you, I swear. I'll take you home—"

Wildly she shook her head, trying to pull away from him. "No," she choked out. "I've got

to get back to the
Montgomery.
Zane—he was shot. He might die. Oh, God, I've got to go

back
now!"

"Everything will be all right," he crooned, hustling her down the steps with an arm

locked around her shoulders. "I have a doctor waiting—"

"I don't need a doctor!" she said fiercely, jerking away from him. She'd never done that

before, and his face went blank with shock. She shoved her hair out of her face. The tangled mass

hadn't been combed in two days, and it was matted with sweat and sea spray. "Listen to me! The

man who rescued me was shot.
He might die.
He was still in surgery when Major Hodson forced

me on board this plane. I want to go back to the ship. I want to make sure Zane is okay."

William Lovejoy firmly took hold of his daughter's shoulders again, leading her across

the tarmac to the waiting limo. "You don't have to go back to the ship, sweetheart," he said

soothingly. "I'll ask Admiral Lind-ley to find out how his man is doing. He
is
one of the SEAL

team, I presume?"

Numbly she nodded.

"There wouldn't be any point in going back to the ship, I'm sure you can see that. If he

survived surgery, he'll be airlifted to a military hospital."

If he survived surgery.
The words were like a knife, hot and slicing, going through her.

She balled her hands into fists, every cell in her body screaming for heir to ignore logic,

ignore the attempts to soothe her. She needed to get to Zane.

Three days later, she stood in her father's office with her chin high and her eyes colder

than he'd ever seen them. "You told Admiral Lindley to block my requests," she accused.

The ambassador sighed. He removed his reading glasses and carefully placed them on

the inlaid walnut desk. "Barrie, you know I've denied you very little that you've asked for, but

you're being unreasonable about this man. You know that he's recovering, and that's all you need to

know. What point would there be in rushing to his bedside? Some tabloid might find out about it,

and then your ordeal would be plastered in sleazy newspapers all over the world. Is that what you

want?"

"My ordeal?" she echoed.
"My
ordeal? What about his? He nearly died! That's

assuming Admiral Lindley told me the truth, and he really is still alive!"

"Of course he is. I only asked Joshua to block any inquiries you made about his location."

He unfolded his tall form from the chair and came around to lean against the desk and take her

resistant hands in his. "Barrie, give yourself time to get over the trauma. I know you've invested this... this guerrilla fighter with all sorts of heroic characteristics, and that's only

normal. After a while, when you've regained your perspective, you'll be glad you didn't

embarrass yourself by chasing after him."

It was almost impossible to contain the volcanic fury rising in her. Nobody was listening;

no one wanted to listen. They kept going on and on about her ordeal, how she would heal in time,

until she wanted to pull her hair out. She had insisted over and over that she hadn't been raped, but

she had fiercely refused to be examined by a doctor, which of course had only fueled speculation

that the kidnappers had indeed raped her. But she'd known her body bore the marks of Zane's

lovemaking, marks and traces that were precious and private, for no one else's eyes. Everyone was

treating her as if she was made of crystal, carefully not mentioning the kidnapping, until she

thought she would go mad.

She wanted to see Zane. That was all. Just see him, assure herself that he would be all right.