Her Hard To Resist Husband
Tina Beckett
Praise for Tina Beckett: (#u43604465-13f5-593d-913c-7933d7b6c34e)
‘… a tension-filled emotional story with just the right amount of drama. The author’s vivid description of the Brazilian jungle and its people make this story something special.’
—RT Book Reviews on DOCTOR’S GUIDE TO DATING IN THE JUNGLE
‘Medical Romance™ lovers will definitely like
NYC ANGELS: FLIRTING WITH DANGER
by Tina Beckett—for who doesn’t like
a good forbidden romance …?’
—HarlequinJunkie.com
Born to a family that was always on the move, TINA BECKETT learned to pack a suitcase almost before she knew how to tie her shoes. Fortunately she met a man who also loved to travel, and she snapped him right up. Married for over twenty years, Tina has three wonderful children and has lived in gorgeous places such as Portugal and Brazil.
Living where English reading material is difficult to find has its drawbacks, however. Tina had to come up with creative ways to satisfy her love for romance novels, so she picked up her pen and tried writing one. After her tenth book she realised she was hooked. She was officially a writer.
A three-times Golden Heart finalist, and fluent in Portuguese, Tina now divides her time between the United States and Brazil. She loves to use exotic locales as the backdrop for many of her stories. When she’s not writing you can find her either on horseback or soldering stained glass panels for her home.
Tina loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.
SUSAN CARLISLE’s love affair with books began when she made a bad grade in math in the sixth grade. Not allowed to watch TV until she’d brought the grade up, she filled her time with books and became a voracious romance reader. She has ‘keepers’ on the shelf to prove it. Because she loved the genre so much she decided to try her hand at creating her own romantic worlds. She still loves a good happily-ever-after-story.
When not writing Susan doubles as a high school substitute teacher, which she has been doing for sixteen years. Susan lives in Georgia with her husband of twenty-eight years and has four grown children. She loves castles, travelling, cross-stitching, hats, James Bond and hearing from her readers.
Her Hard to Resist
Husband
Tina Beckett
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader
There comes a time in our lives when we’re confronted with tough challenges or painful decisions. When those decisions are of a life-changing nature there’s a temptation to draw inward and isolate ourselves, locking out those who love us the most.
Tracy Hinton faces just such a situation. And at a time when she should lean on her husband the most she shuts him out completely, creating a rift that soon grows too wide to bridge.
That could have been the end of the story, but sometimes we’re given a second chance—an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past. What we do with that chance will set the course for our future. Will we waste it? Or will we embrace it and accept the good things life has to offer?
Thank you for joining Ben and Tracy as they embark on a very special journey of healing and second chances. In confronting the mistakes of the past they rekindle a love that has never quite died. These two characters stayed with me long after I wrote ‘The End’. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Love
Tina Beckett
Dedication (#u43604465-13f5-593d-913c-7933d7b6c34e)
To my husband, who stands beside me through thick and thin.
And to my editor, Suzy,
for making me dig deeper than I ever thought I could.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u84bf57c2-9187-5e63-9e1f-c0079b8f617d)
Praise for Tina Beckett
About the Authors (#u15fb77af-573a-55cb-83fe-8b0a125ea2fd)
Title Page (#u76734add-1199-5989-b90c-52729235b757)
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u43604465-13f5-593d-913c-7933d7b6c34e)
TRACY HINTON DIDN’T faint.
Her stomach squirmed and threatened to give way as the scent of death flooded her nostrils, but she somehow held it together. Calming herself with slow, controlled breaths was out of the question, because breathing was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
“How many are there?” She fitted the protective mask over her nose and mouth.
“Six deaths so far, but most of the town is affected.” Pedro, one of her mobile clinic workers, nodded towards the simple clay-brick house to his left, where an eerily still figure was curled in a fetal position on the porch. Another body lay a few yards away on the ground. “They’ve been dead for a few days. Whatever it was, it hit fast. They didn’t even try to make it to a hospital.”
“They were probably too sick. Besides, the nearest hospital is twenty miles away.”
Piauí, one of the poorest of the Brazilian states, was more vulnerable to catastrophic infections than the wealthier regions, and many of these outlying townships relied on bicycles or their own two feet for transportation. It was hard enough to make a twenty-mile trek even when one was young and healthy, which these poor souls had not been. And cars were a luxury most couldn’t afford.
She wouldn’t know for sure what had caused the deaths until she examined the bodies and gathered some specimens. The nearest diagnostic hospital was a good hundred miles from here. In any case, she’d have to report the possibility of an epidemic to the proper authorities.
Which meant she’d have to deal with Ben.
Pedro shook his head. “Dengue, you think?”
“Not this time. There’s some blood on the front of the man’s shirt, but nothing else that I can see from this distance.” She stared at the crude corral where several pigs squealed out a protest at the lack of food. “I’m thinking lepto.”
Pedro frowned. “Leptospirosis? Rainy season’s already over.”
The area around the house consisted of a few desiccated twigs and hard-packed clay, confirming her colleague’s words. The sweltering heat sucked any remaining moisture from the air and squeezed around her, making her nausea that much worse. Situated close to the equator, the temperature of this part of Brazil rarely dipped below the hundred-degree mark during the dry season. The deadly heat would only grow worse, until the rains finally returned.
“They have pigs.” She used her forearm to push sticky tendrils of hair from her forehead.
“I saw that, but lepto doesn’t normally cause hemorrhaging.”
“It did in Bahia.”
Pedro’s brows went up. “You think it’s the pulmonary version?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you want to take samples? Or head for one of the other houses?”
Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she eased out her cellphone and glanced hopefully at the display. No bars. What worked in São Paulo obviously didn’t work here. “Is your phone working?”
“Nope.”
She sighed, trying to figure out what to do. “The tissue samples will have to wait until we come back, I don’t want to risk contaminating any live patients. And maybe we’ll come within range of a cellphone tower once we hit higher ground.”
Benjamin Almeida pressed his eye to the lens of the microscope and twisted the fine focus until the image sharpened, making the pink stain clearly visible. Gram negative bacteria. Removing the slide, he ran it through the digital microscope and recorded the results.
“Um, Ben?” His assistant’s hesitant voice came from the doorway.
He held up a finger as he waited for the computer to signal it had sent his report to the attending physician at the tropical disease institute of Piauí. The man’s office was fifteen steps away in the main hospital building, but Ben couldn’t take the time to walk over there right now. Dragging the latex gloves from his hands and flicking them into the garbage can to his right, he reached for the hand sanitizer and squirted a generous amount onto his palm.
“Yep, what is it?” He glanced up, his twelve-hour shift beginning to catch up with him. There were two more slides he needed to process before he could call it a day.
“Someone’s here to see you.” Mandy shifted out of the doorway, the apology in her cultured Portuguese tones unmistakable.
“If it’s Dr. Mendosa, tell him I just emailed the report. It’s a bacterial infection, not a parasite.”
A woman appeared next to Mandy, and Ben couldn’t stop his quick intake of breath. Shock wheeled through him, and he forced himself to remain seated on his stool, thankful his legs weren’t in charge of supporting his weight at that moment.
Inky-dark hair, pulled back in its usual clip, exposed high cheekbones and a long slender neck. Green eyes—right now filled with worry—met his without hesitation, her chin tilting slightly higher as they stared at each other.
What the hell was she doing here?
The newcomer adjusted the strap of a blue insulated bag on her shoulder and took a small step closer. “Ben, I need your help.”
His jaw tensed. Those were almost the exact words she’d used four years ago. Right before she’d walked out of his life. He gave a quick swallow, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his thoughts. “With what?”
“Something’s happening in São João dos Rios.” She patted the bag at her side, words tumbling out at breakneck speed. “I brought samples I need you to analyze. The sooner the better, because I have to know why people are suddenly—”
“Slow down. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She bit her lip, and he watched her try to collect her thoughts. “There’s an outbreak in São João dos Rios. Six people are dead so far. The military police are already on their way to lock down the town.” She held her hand out. “I wouldn’t have come if this wasn’t important. Really important.”
That much he knew was true. The last time he’d seen her, she had been heading out the door of their house, never to return.
He shouldn’t be surprised she was still roving the country, stamping out infectious fires wherever she went. Nothing had been able to stop her. Not him. Not the thought of a home and family. Not the life she’d carried inside her.
Against his better judgement, he yanked on a fresh pair of gloves. “Do I need a respirator?”
“I don’t think so. We used surgical masks to collect the samples.”
He nodded, pulling one on and handing another to her, grateful that its presence would hide those soft pink lips he’d never tired of kissing. Ben’s attention swiveled back to her eyes, and he cursed the fact that the vivid green still had the power to make his pulse pound in his chest even after all this time.
He cleared his throat. “Symptoms?”
“The commonality seems to be pulmonary hemorrhage, maybe from some type of pneumonia.” She passed him the bag. “The bodies have already been cremated, unfortunately.”
“Without autopsies?” Something in his stomach twisted in warning.
“The military let me collect a few samples before they carted the bodies away, and the government took another set to do its own studies. I have to document that I’ve destroyed everything once you’re done.” She lowered her voice. “There’s a guard in your reception area whose job it is to make sure that order is carried out. Help me out here. You’re the best epidemiologist around these parts.”
He glanced at the doorway, noting for the first time the armed member of the Polícia Militar leaning against the wall in the other room. “That wasn’t one of my most endearing features, once upon a time.”
He remembered all too well the heated arguments they’d had over which was more important: individual rights or the public good.
Biting her lip, she hesitated. “Because you went behind my back and used your job as a weapon against me.”
Yes, he had. And not even that had stopped her.
His assistant, who’d been watching from the doorway, pulled on a mask and moved to stand beside him, her head tilting as she glanced nervously at the guard. Her English wasn’t the best, and Ben wasn’t sure how much of their conversation she’d grasped. “Is he going to let us leave?” she asked in Portuguese.
Tracy switched to the native language. “If it turns out the illness is just a common strain of pneumonia, it won’t be a problem.”
“And if it isn’t?”
Ben’s lips compressed as he contemplated spending an unknown amount of time confined to his tiny office.
With Tracy.
He had a foldable cot in a back closet, but it was narrow. Certainly not large enough for …
“If it isn’t, then it looks like we might be here for a while.” He went to the door and addressed the official. “We haven’t opened the tissue samples yet. My assistant has a family. I’d like her to go home before we begin.”
Ben had insisted his office be housed in a separate building from the main hospital for just this reason. It was small enough that the whole thing could be sealed off in the event of an airborne epidemic. And just like the microbial test he’d completed for a colleague moments earlier, any results could be sent off via computer.
Safety was his number-one priority. Mandy knew the risks of working for him, but she’d been exposed to nothing, as far as he could tell. Not like when Tracy had rushed headlong into a yellow fever epidemic four years ago that had forced him to call in the military authorities.
The guard in the doorway tapped his foot for a second, as if considering Ben’s request. He then turned away and spoke to someone through his walkie-talkie. When he was done, he faced them. “We’ll have someone escort her home, but she’ll have to remain there until we know what the illness is. As for you two …” he motioned to Ben and Tracy “… once the samples are uncapped you’ll have to stay in this building until we determine the risks.”
Mandy sent Ben a panicked look. “Are you sure it’s safe for me to leave? My baby …” She shut her eyes. “I need to call my husband.”
“Have Sergio take the baby to your mother’s house, where she’ll be safe. Just in case. I’ll call you as soon as I know something, okay?”
His assistant nodded and left to make her call.
“I’m sorry.” Tracy’s face softened. “I thought you’d be alone in the lab. I didn’t realize you’d gotten an assistant.”
“It’s not your fault. She’s worried about the risks to her baby.” His eyes came up to meet hers, and he couldn’t resist the dig. “Just as any woman with children would be.”
He mentally kicked himself when the compassion in Tracy’s eyes dissolved, and anger took its place.
“I was concerned. But it was never enough for you, was it?” Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “I’m heading back to São João dos Rios as soon as you give me some answers. If I’m going to be quarantined, I’m going to do it where I can make a difference. That doesn’t include sitting in a lab, staring at rows of test tubes.”
He knew he’d struck a nerve, but it didn’t stop an old hurt from creeping up his spine. “Says the woman who came to my lab, asking for help,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you did.”
They stared at each other then the corners of her eyes crinkled. She pulled down her mask, letting it dangle around her neck. “Okay, maybe I did … a little. But at least I admitted that I need you. That has to count for something.”
It did. But that kind of need was a far cry from what they’d once had together. Those days were long gone, and no matter how hard Ben had tried to hold onto her back then, she’d drifted further and further away, until the gulf between them had been too huge to span.
Bellyaching about the past won’t get you anywhere.
Ben shook off the thoughts and set the insulated bag on an empty metal table. He nodded towards the aluminum glove dispenser hanging on the far wall. “Suit up and don’t touch anything in the lab, just in case.”
She dug into her handbag instead and pulled out her own box of gloves. “I came prepared.”
Of course she had. It was part of who she was. This was a woman who was always on the move—who never took a weekend off. Tracy had thrown herself into her work without restraint … until there had been nothing left for herself. Or for him.
He’d thought she’d stop once the pregnancy tests went from blue to pink. She hadn’t. And Ben hadn’t been able to face any child of his going through what he had as a kid.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, he glanced around the lab, eyeing the centrifuges and other equipment. They’d have to work in the tiny glassed-off cubicle in the corner that he’d set up for occasions like this.
Keeping his day-to-day work space absolutely separate from Tracy’s samples was not only smart, it was non-negotiable. If they weren’t careful, the government could end up quarantining his whole lab, meaning years of work would be tossed into the incinerator. He tensed. Although if their findings turned up a microbe that was airborne, he’d willingly burn everything himself. He wouldn’t risk setting loose an epidemic.
Not even for Tracy. She should know that by now.
“I have a clean room set up over there. Once we get things squared away with Mandy, we can start.”
Tracy peered towards the door where the phone conversation between his assistant and her husband was growing more heated by the second. “I was really careful about keeping everything as sterile as I could. I don’t think she’s been exposed to anything.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m going to take your bagged samples into the other area. Can you wipe down the table where they were with disinfectant?”
As soon as Ben picked up the insulated bag, the guard appeared, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Where are you going with that?”
Ben motioned towards the clean room. “The samples can’t infect anyone else if they’re kept enclosed. You can see everything we do from the reception doorway. It’ll be safer if you keep your distance once we’ve started testing, though.”
The guard backed up a couple of paces. “How long will it take? I have no wish to stay here any longer than I have to.”
“I have no idea. It depends on what we’re dealing with.”
Putting the bag in the cubicle, he gathered the equipment he’d need and arranged it on the set of metal shelves perched above a stainless-steel table. He blew out a breath. The eight-by-eight-foot area was going to be cramped once he and Tracy were both inside.
An air handler filtered any particles floating in and out of the clean room, but there was no safe way to pump air-conditioning into the space. They’d have to rely on the wheezy window unit in the main lab and hope it kept them from baking. He could offer to send Tracy on her way before he got the results—but he was pretty sure he knew how that suggestion would be met, despite her waspish words earlier.
You couldn’t coax—or force—Tracy to do anything she didn’t want to do. He knew that from experience.
Mandy appeared in the doorway to the reception area just as Ben turned on the air filter and closed the door on the samples.
“It’s all arranged. Sergio called my mom and asked if she’d care for the baby overnight. He’s not happy about staying home from work, but he doesn’t want me to stay here either.”
“I don’t blame him. But look on the bright side. At least you can go home.” He smiled. “Tell Sergio he should count his lucky stars I haven’t stolen you away from him.”
Mandy laughed. “You’ve already told him that yourself. Many times.”
Tracy spun away from them and stalked over to the metal table she’d previously sanitized and began scrubbing it all over again. She kept her head down, not looking at either of them.
“Is the guard going to take you home?” He forced the words to remain cheerful.
“They’re sending another policeman. He should be here soon.”
“Good.” He had Mandy go back and wait in the reception area, so there’d be no question of her being anywhere near those samples. Returning to the sealed cubicle, he slid the insulated bag into a small refrigerator he kept for just this purpose. The air was already growing close inside the room, but he’d worked under worse conditions many times before. Both he and Tracy had.
He could still picture one such occasion—their very first meeting—Tracy had stepped off the Projeto Vida medical boat and stalked into the village he had been surveying, demanding to know what he was doing about the malaria outbreak twenty miles downriver. He’d been exhausted, and she’d looked like a gorgeous avenging angel, silky black hair flowing behind her in the breeze, ready to slay him if he said one wrong word.
They’d barely lasted two days before they’d fallen into bed together.
Something he’d rather not remember at the moment. Especially as he was trying to avoid any and all physical contact with her.
She might be immune, but he wasn’t. Not judging from the way his heart had taken off at a sprint when he’d seen her standing in that doorway.
Tracy dumped her paper towel into the hazardous waste receptacle and crossed over to him. “I just want to say thank you for agreeing to help. You could have told me to get lost.” She gave a hard laugh. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”
“I’m not always an ogre, you know.”
Her teeth caught the right corner of her bottom lip in a way that made his chest tighten. “I know. And I’m sorry for dragging you into this, but I didn’t know where else to go. The military didn’t want me to take the samples out of São João dos Rios. They only agreed to let me come here because you’ve worked with them before … and even then they made me bring a guard. I honestly didn’t think anyone else would be affected other than us.”
“It’s not your fault, Trace.” He started to reach out to touch her cheek, but checked himself. “The government is probably right to keep this as contained as possible. If I thought there was any chance of contamination, I’d be the first one to say Mandy needs to stay here at the lab with us.”
He smiled. “If I know you, though, not one microbe survived on that bag before you carried it out of that town.”
“I hope not. There are still several ill people waiting on us for answers. I left a colleague behind to make sure the military didn’t do anything rash, but he’s not a doctor, and I don’t want to risk his health either.” She blew out a breath. “Those people need help. But there’s nothing I can do until I know what we’re dealing with.”
And then she’d be on her way to the next available crisis. Just like she always was.
His smile faded. “Let’s get to work, then.”
The guard stuck his head into the room. “They’re sending someone for your friend. They’ll keep her at home until the danger has passed.”
Ben nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”
When he went to the doorway to say goodbye to Mandy, she kissed his cheek, her arms circling his neck and hugging him close. When she finally let go, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m so grateful. I can’t imagine not being able to tuck my Jenny into bed tonight, but at least I’ll be closer to her than I would be if I stayed here.”
His heart clenched. Here was a woman whose baby meant the world to her—who didn’t need to jet off to distant places to find fulfillment. Unlike his parents.
Unlike Tracy.
“We’ll work as quickly as we can. Once things are clear, make sure you give her a kiss and a hug from her uncle Ben.”
“I will.” She wiped a spot of lipstick from his cheek with her thumb. “Be careful, okay? I’ve just gotten used to your crazy ways. I don’t want to break someone else in.”
Ben laughed and took off one of his latex gloves, laying his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me any time soon, so go and enjoy your mini-vacation. You’ll be back to the same old grind before you know it.”
Mandy’s escort arrived, and as soon as she exited the building, he turned back to find Tracy observing him with a puzzled frown.
“What?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just surprised you haven’t found a woman who’d be thrilled to stick close to the house and give you all those kids you said you wanted.”
“That would be impossible, given the circumstances.”
“Oh?” Her brows arched. “And why is that?”
He laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I just did.”
Grabbing her left hand, he held it up, forcing her eyes to the outline of the plain gold band visible beneath her latex glove. “For the same reason you’re wearing this.” He stared into her face. “Have you forgotten, Mrs. Almeida? You may not go by your married name any more, but in the eyes of the law … we’re still husband and wife.”
CHAPTER TWO (#u43604465-13f5-593d-913c-7933d7b6c34e)
SHE’D FORGOTTEN NOTHING.
And she’d tried to see about getting a divorce, but being overseas made everything a hundred times more complicated. Both of the Brazilian lawyers she’d contacted had said that as an American citizen, she should return to the States and start the proceedings there, as she and Ben had been married in New York. But asking him to accompany her had been out of the question. Even if he’d been willing, she wasn’t. She hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him, too raw from everything that had transpired in the month before she’d left Teresina—and him—for ever.
Staying married probably hadn’t been the wisest move on her part but she’d thrown herself into her work afterwards, far too busy with Projeto Vida, her aid organization’s floating clinic, to set the ugly wheels in motion. Besides, a wedding ring tended to scare away any man who ventured too close. Not that there’d been many. Her caution-do-not-touch vibes must be coming through loud and clear. She’d never get married again—to anyone—so keeping her wedding ring and her license made keeping that promise a whole lot easier.
Too bad she hadn’t remembered to take the ring off before asking Ben for help.
She realized he was still waiting for a response so she lifted her chin, praying he wouldn’t notice the slight tremble. “We’re not married any more. Not by any stretch of the imagination. You made sure of that.”
“Right.” Ben turned away and gathered a few more pieces of equipment.
Her thumb instinctively rubbed back and forth across the ring, a gesture she’d found oddly comforting during some of the tougher periods of her life—like now.
Strange how most of those times had found her wearing surgical gloves.
Studying Ben as he worked, Tracy was surprised by the slight dusting of grey in his thick brown hair. She gave herself a mental shake. The man was thirty-eight, and she hadn’t set eyes on him in four years. Change was inevitable. What hadn’t changed, however, were the electric blue eyes, compliments of his American mother, or how they provided the perfect counterpoint for tanned skin, high cheekbones and a straight, autocratic nose—all legacies from his Brazilian father. Neither had he lost any of that intense focus she’d once found so intimidating.
And irresistible.
Snap out of it, Tracy.
She donned the scrubs, booties and surgical gear Ben had left out for her and moved into the glassed-in cubicle where he was busy setting up.
“Close the door, please, so I can seal it off.”
“Seal it off?” Swallowing hard, she hesitated then did as he asked.
“Just with this.” He held up a roll of clear packing tape. “Is your claustrophobia going to be a problem?”
She hoped not, but feeling trapped had always set off a rolling sense of panic that could quickly snowball if she wasn’t careful. It didn’t matter whether the confinement was physical or emotional, the fear was the same. Glancing through the door to the reception area, she noted the exit to the outside world was plainly visible even from where she stood. “As long as I know there’s a door right through there, I should be fine. The room being made of glass helps.”
“Good.”
Ben taped the edges of the door, before removing the insulated bag from the fridge and examining the labels on each tube inside. Selecting two of them, he put the rest back in cold storage.
“What do you want me to do?” Tracy asked.
“Set up some slides. We’re going to work our way from simple to complex.”
He turned one of the tubes to the side and read her label out loud. “Daniel, male, twelve years.” He paused. “Living?”
“Yes.” Her heart twisted when she thought of the preteen boy staring at her with terrified eyes. But at least he was alive. As was his younger sister Cleo. Their mother, however, hadn’t been so lucky. Hers had been one of the first bodies they’d found in the village. “Febrile. No skin lesions visible.”
“Signs of pneumonia?”
“Not yet, which is why this seemed so strange. Most of the dead had complained to relatives of coughs along with fever and malaise.”
“Liver enlargement in the dead?”
She swallowed. “No autopsies, remember? The military destroyed everything.” Her voice cracked.
Ben’s gloved hand covered hers, and even through the layers of latex the familiar warmth of his touch comforted her in a way no one else ever could. “Why don’t you get those slides ready, while I set up the centrifuge?”
Glad to have something to take her mind off the horrific scene she and Pedro had stumbled on in São João dos Rios, she pulled several clean slides from the box and spread them across the table. Then, carefully taking the cotton swab from Ben’s outstretched hand, she smeared a thin layer of material on the smooth glass surface. “What are you looking for?”
“Anything. Everything.” The tense muscle in his jaw made her wonder if he already had a theory. “You’ll need to heat-set the slides as you smear them.”
He lit a small burner and showed her how to pass the slide across the flame to dry it and affix the specimen to the glass.
The sound of a throat clearing in the outer doorway made them both look up. Their guard cupped his hands over his mouth and said in a loud voice, “Your assistant has arrived safely at her home.”
Ben flashed a thumbs-up sign. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Tracy’s fingers tensed on the slide at the mention of Ben’s assistant, which was ridiculous. Yes, the woman had kissed him, but Brazilians kissed everyone—it was a kind of unspoken rule in these parts. Besides, the woman had a family. A new baby.
Her throat tightened, a sense of loss sweeping over her. Ben had wanted children so badly. So had she. When she’d fallen pregnant, they’d both been elated. Until she’d had a devastating piece of news that had set her back on her heels. She’d thrown herself into her work, angering Ben, even as she’d tried to figure out a way to tell him.
That had all changed when he’d sent the military in to force her out of a stricken village during a yellow fever outbreak. She knew he’d been trying to protect her and the baby—not from the disease itself, as she’d already been vaccinated the previous year, but from anything that had taken her out of his sight. She hadn’t need protecting, though. She’d needed to work. It had been her lifeline in a time of turmoil and confusion, and his interference had damaged her trust. She’d miscarried a week later, and the rift that had opened between them during their disagreement over the military had grown deeper, with accusations flying fast and furious on both sides.
In the end she’d opted to keep her secret to herself. Telling him would have changed nothing, not when she’d already decided to leave.
Work was still her number-one priority. Still her lifeline. And she needed to get her mind back on what she was doing.
Tracy took the long cotton swab and dipped it into another of her sample jars, laying a thin coating of the material on a second glass slide, heat-setting it, like she’d done with the first. “Do you need me to apply a stain?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got on these first.”
“There were pigs in a corral at one of the victims’ homes. Could it be leptospirosis?”
“Possibly.” He switched on the microscope’s light. “If I can’t find anything on the slides, we’ll need to do some cultures. Lepto will show up there.”
He didn’t say it, but they both knew cultures would take several days, if not longer, to grow.
Tracy sent a nervous glance towards the reception area, where the guard lounged in a white plastic chair in full view. He twirled what looked like a toothpick between his thumb and forefinger. For the moment his attention wasn’t focused on them. And he was far enough away that he shouldn’t be able to hear soft voices through the glass partition.
“That could be a problem.”
Ben turned toward her, watchful eyes moving over her face. “How so?”
“I told the military police you’d have an answer for them today.”
“You did what?” His hand clenched on the edge of the table. “Of all the irresponsible—”
“I know, I know. I didn’t have a choice. It was either that or leave São João dos Rios empty-handed.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking at her again. “You’re still hauling around that savior complex, aren’t you, Tracy? Don’t you get tired of being the one who swoops in to save the day?”
“I thought that was your role. Taking charge even when it’s not your decision to make.” She tossed her head. “Maybe if you’d stopped thinking about yourself for once …” As soon as the ugly words spurted out she gritted her teeth, staunching the flow. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Yes. It was.” He took the slide from her and set it down with an audible crack.
The guard was on his feet in an instant, his casual manner gone. “O que foi?”
Ben held up the slide. “Sorry. Just dropped it.” Although he said the words loudly enough for the guard to hear them, he kept his tone calm and even. Even so, the tension in his white-knuckled grip was unmistakable.
The guard rolled his eyes, his face relaxing. “I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want something?”
How exactly did the man expect to get the food past the sealed doorway? Besides, she wouldn’t be able to eat if her life depended on it. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Same here,” said Ben.
The guard shrugged and then checked the front door. He palmed the old-fashioned key he found in the lock before reinserting it again, this time on the outside of the door.
He meant to lock them in!
“No, wait!” Tracy stood, not exactly sure how she could stop him.
“Sorry, but I have my orders. Neither of you leaves until those samples are destroyed.”
She started to argue further, but Ben touched her shoulder. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice.
Holding her tongue, she watched helplessly as the door swung shut, a menacing snick of the lock telling her the guard had indeed imprisoned them inside the room. A familiar sting of panic went up her spine. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if we’re trapped?”
Stripping off one of his gloves, he reached into his pocket. “I have a spare. I know you don’t like being confined.”
Sagging in relief, she managed a shaky laugh. “You learned that the hard way, didn’t you?”
The vivid image of Ben playfully pinning her hands above her head while they’d tussled on the bed sprang to her mind. The love play had been fun. At first. Then a wave of terror had washed over her unexpectedly, and though she’d known her panic had been illogical, she’d begun to struggle in earnest.
A frightened plea had caught in her throat, and as hard as she’d tried to say something, her voice had seemed as frozen as her senses. Ben had only realized she was no longer playing when she succeeded in freeing one of her hands and raked her nails down his face. He’d reeled backwards, while she’d lain there, her chest heaving, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. Understanding had dawned on his face and he’d gathered her into his arms, murmuring how sorry he was. From that moment forward he’d been careful to avoid anything that might make her feel trapped.
A little too careful.
His lovemaking had become less intense and more controlled. Only it had been a different kind of control than what they’d previously enjoyed, when Ben’s take-charge demeanor in the bedroom had been a huge turn-on. That had all changed. Tracy had mourned the loss of passion, even as she’d appreciated his reasons for keeping a little more space between them. Her inability to explain where the line between confinement and intimacy lay had driven the first wedge between them.
That wedge had widened later, when he’d tried to limit her movements during her pregnancy, giving rise to the same sensation of being suffocated. She’d clawed at him just as hard then, the marks invisible but causing just as much damage to their marriage.
The Ben of the present fingered the side of his face and gave her a smile. “No permanent damage done.”
Yeah, there had been. And it seemed that one patch of bad luck had spiraled into another.
“I always felt terrible about that,” she said.
“I should have realized you were scared.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
Even her father hadn’t realized their play sessions could change without warning. There’d always been laughter, but the sound of hers had often turned shrill with overtones of panic. A gentle soul, her father would have never hurt her in a million years. It didn’t help that her older sister had been a tough-as-nails tomboy who’d feared nothing and had given as good as she’d got. Then Tracy had come along—always fearful, always more cautious. Her father had never quite known what to do with her.
She was still fearful. Still flinched away from situations that made her feel trapped and out of control.
And now her mom and her sister were both gone. Her mom, the victim of a menacing villain who’d stalked its prey relentlessly—turning the delicate strands of a person’s DNA into the enemy. Passed from mother to daughter. Tracy had been running from its specter ever since.
Ben donned a fresh glove and picked up the slide he’d smacked against the table, checking it for cracks. Without glancing up at her, he said, “You look tired. I put the folding cot in the corner in case we needed to sleep in shifts. If I know you, you didn’t get much rest last night.”
“I’m okay.” He was right. She was exhausted, but no way would she let him know how easily he could still read her. Or how the touch of concern in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “It’s just warm in here.”
“I know. The air-conditioner in the lab is ancient, and the filter doesn’t let much of it through, anyway.”
Even as he said it, a tiny trickle of sweat coursed down her back. “It’s fine.”
He pushed the slide beneath the viewer of the microscope and focused on the smear. “How old are the samples?”
“Just a couple of hours.”
He swore softly as he continued to peer through the lens, evidently seeing something he didn’t like. He took the second slide and repeated the process, his right hand shifting a knob on the side of the instrument repeatedly. Sitting up, he dabbed at perspiration that had gathered around his eye with the sleeve of his lab coat then leaned back in for another look.
“What is it?” She felt her own blood rushing through her ears as she awaited the verdict.
It didn’t take long. He lifted his head and fastened his eyes on hers. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s pneumonic plague, Tracy.” Shifting his attention to the test tube in her hand, he continued, “And if you’re the one who took these samples, you’ve already been exposed.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ef3916ed-a77d-5135-83df-f6ba3fe83bac)
TRACY SAGGED AND swallowed hard, trying to process what he’d said through her own fear. “Are you sure?”
“Here.” He moved aside so she could look at the slide.
Putting her eye to the viewfinder, she squinted into the machine. “What am I looking for?”
“See the little dots grouped into chains?”
“Yes.” There were several of them.
“That’s what we’re dealing with. I want to look at another sample and do a culture, just in case, but I’m sure. It’s Yersinia pestis, the same bacterium that causes bubonic plague. I recognize the shape.” He rolled his shoulders as if relieving an ache. “Bubonic plague normally spreads from infected rats through the bite of a flea, but if the bacteria migrate to a person’s lungs, it becomes even more deadly, spreading rapidly from person to person by way of a cough or bodily fluids. When that happens, the disease no longer needs a flea. We’ll want to put you on a strong dose of streptomycin immediately.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll start on them as well, but just as a precaution.” Ben dripped a staining solution on another slide. “Most of the people who work in the lab are vaccinated against the plague, including Mandy. But I assume you haven’t been.”
“No, which means neither has … Oh, God.” She rested her head against Ben’s shoulder for a second as a wave of nausea rolled over her. “That town. I have to get back there. They’ve all been exposed. So has Pedro.”
“Pedro?”
“My assistant.”
Just as he pushed the slide back under the microscope, the lock to the outer door clicked open before Tracy had a chance to figure out how to proceed.
The guard pushed his way inside, glancing from one to the other, his eyes narrowing in on her face. She sat up straighter.
“Problema?” he asked.
Instead of lunch, he only held a coffee cup in his hand.
A tug on the back of her shirt sent a warning Tracy read loud and clear, Don’t tell him anything until I’ve taken another look. The gesture surprised her, as he’d always been buddy-buddy with the military, at least from what she’d seen over the course of their marriage.
Still holding one of the slides, he casually laid it on the table. “We need to run a few more tests before we know anything for sure.”
“No need. Our doctors have isolated the infection and will take the appropriate containment measures.”
Containment? What exactly did that mean?
Her brows lifted in challenge. “What is the illness, then?” Maybe he was bluffing.
“I’m not at liberty to say. But my commander would like to speak with Dr. Almeida over the phone.” He gave Tracy a pointed stare. “Alone.”
A shiver went over her. Alone. Why?
What if the government doctors had come to a different conclusion than Ben had? What if they were assuming it was something other than the plague? People could still die … still pass it on to neighboring towns. And São João dos Rios was poor. How many people would lose loved ones due to lack of information?
Just like she had. She knew the pain of that firsthand.
She’d lost her mother. Her grandmother. Her sister—although Vickie’s illness hadn’t been related to a genetic defect. The most devastating loss of all, however, had been her unborn child. Ben’s baby.
All had died far too young. And Tracy had decided she wasn’t going to waste a second of her time on earth waiting around for what-ifs. Movement, in her eyes, equaled life. So she’d lived that life with a ferocity that others couldn’t begin to understand.
Including Ben.
Genetic code might not be written in stone, but its deadly possibility loomed in front of her, as did a decision she might someday choose to make. But until then she was determined to make a difference in the lives of those around her.
Or maybe you’re simply running away.
Like she had with Ben? No, their break-up had been for entirely different reasons.
Had it?
She pushed the voice in her head aside. “Why does he want to talk to Dr. Almeida alone?”
“That’s not for me to say.” The guard nodded towards the bag. “Those samples must be destroyed.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Her husband’s voice was calm. Soothing. Just as Zen-like as ever. Just as she imagined it would have been had she told him about the life-changing decision she was wrestling with.
And his icy unflappability drove her just as crazy now as it had during their last fight.
How could he take everything in his stride?
Because it was part of who he was. He’d grown up in Brazil … was more Brazilian than American in a lot of ways.
As Ben stripped the tape from around the door and sanitized his hands before stepping into the hallway with the guard, Tracy sighed. She never knew what he was thinking. Even during their marriage he’d been tight-lipped about a lot of things. But as aloof as he’d been at times, she’d sensed something in him yearning for what he hadn’t had when growing up: the closeness of a family.
It still hurt that she hadn’t been able to give that to him. That even as she was driven to work harder and harder by the loss of her baby and by whatever time bomb might be ticking inside her, she was gradually becoming the very thing he despised in his parents.
Her sister had died never knowing whether or not she carried the defective gene. It hadn’t been cancer that had claimed Vickie’s life but dengue fever—a disease that was endemic in Brazil. She’d been pregnant at the time of her death. Her husband had been devastated at losing both of them. As had she. But at least Vickie had been spared the agonizing uncertainty over whether or not she’d passed a cancer gene down to her child.
As much as Tracy had feared doing just that during her pregnancy, she’d never in her weakest moments wished harm to come to her unborn child. And yet she’d lost the baby anyway, as if even the fates knew what a bad idea it was for her to reproduce.
Her vision suddenly went blurry, and she blinked in an effort to clear her head from those painful thoughts. As she did, she realized Ben and the guard had come back into the room and were now staring at her.
“What?” she asked, mentally daring him to say anything about her moist eyes.
Ben’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing. “I need to leave for São João dos Rios. Do you want me to drop you off at the airport on my way out of town?”
“Excuse me?”
Why would she need to go to the airport? Unless …
No way!
Her hands went to her hips. “I’m going with you.”
Both Ben and the guard spoke at once, their voices jumbled. She caught the gist of it, however. Evidently Ben had been invited to go but she hadn’t been.
Outrage crowded her chest. “I’m the one who took the samples. I’ve already been out there.”
“And exposed yourself to the plague in the process.”
“Exactly.” Her hands dropped back to her sides, palms out. “I’ve already been exposed. And I’m a doctor, Ben. I’ve spent my life fighting outbreaks like this one. I should be there.”
His voice cooled. “It’s not up to me this time.”
“This time. Unlike the time you sent your goons into that village with orders to send me packing?” She almost spit the words at him. “My assistant is still in São João dos Rios. I am not leaving him out there alone.”
Stepping around Ben, she focused on the guard. “I’d like to speak with your superior.”
The man blinked several times, as if he couldn’t believe she was daring to defy whatever orders he’d received. “I’m afraid that’s not possible—”
Ben’s fingers went around her upper arm and squeezed. “Let me talk to her for a minute.”
Practically dragging her to the other side of the room, his stony gaze fastened on her face. “What are you doing?”
“I already told you. I’m doing my job.”
“The military wants to handle this their way. They’ll go in and treat those who aren’t too far gone and make sure this doesn’t spread beyond São João dos Rios.”
“Those who aren’t too far gone? My God, stop and listen to yourself for a minute. We’re talking about human beings—about children like Daniel and Cleo, who are now orphans. They deserve someone there who will fight for them.”
“You think I don’t care about those children? I was the one who wanted you to slow down during your pregnancy, to …” He paused for several long seconds then lowered his voice. “I care just as much about those villagers as you do.”
His surgeon’s scalpel cut deep. She could guess what he’d been about to say before he’d checked himself. He still thought her actions had cost the life of their child. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t say with any certainty that he was wrong. She’d worked herself harder than ever after she’d had the results back from the genetic testing—struggling to beat back the familiar sensation of being trapped. But that wasn’t something she wanted to get into right now.
“Let me go with you.” She twisted out of his grasp so she could turn and face him. “Please. You have pull with these guys, I know you do. Call the commander back, whoever he is, and tell him you need me.”
He dragged a hand through his hair then shook his head. “I’m asking you to walk away, Tracy. Just this once. You don’t know how bad things might get before it’s over.”
“I do know. That’s why I need to be there. Those two kids have already lost their mother. I want to help make sure they don’t lose their lives as well.”
She was not going to let some government bureaucrat—or even Ben—decide they were a lost cause. “I’ll take antibiotics while I’m there. I’ll do whatever the government people tell me to do. Besides, like I said before, my assistant is still in the middle of it.”
She couldn’t explain to him that she really did need to be there. This was part of what being alive meant—fighting battles for others that she might not be able to fight for herself. She took a deep breath. “Please, don’t make me beg.”
A brief flicker of something went across his face then was gone. “Listen, I know—” Before he could finish the guard appeared in front of them, tapping his hat against his thigh, clearly impatient to be gone. “We need to leave.”
Tracy kept her pleading gaze focused on Ben. He had to let her go. He just had to.
Ben swore and then broke eye contact. “Call General Gutierrez and tell him we’re on our way. Both of us.”
The man didn’t bat an eyelid. “I’ll let him know.”
Exactly how much influence did Ben have with these officials? She knew his salary came from the government, but to say something like that and expect it to be accepted without question …
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
Jaw tight, Ben ignored her and addressed the guard again. “We’ll follow you out to the village once I’ve destroyed the samples. We need to use my four-wheel drive to haul some equipment.”
The guard swept his hat onto his head before relaying the message to his superiors. When he finished the call, he said, “My commander will have someone meet you at the town square and direct you to the triage area they’ve set up. But you must hurry.”
Ben nodded. “Tell them we’ll be there within three hours.”
“Vai com Deus.”
The common “Go with God” farewell had an ominous ring to it—as if the man had crossed himself in an attempt to ward off evil. And pneumonic plague was all that and more. Its cousin had killed off large swaths of the world’s population in the past.
Despite her misgivings about working with Ben again, a couple of muscles in her stomach relaxed. At least she wouldn’t have to fight this particular battle on her own.
Ben would be there with her.
And if he found out the truth about the genetic testing she’d had done before their separation?
Then she would deal with it. Just as she’d dealt with the loss of her baby and her own uncertain prognosis.
Alone.
As they hurried to finish loading his vehicle, a streak of lightning darted across the sky, pausing to lick the trunk of a nearby tree before sliding back into the clouds. The smell of singed wood reached Ben a few seconds later, followed by an ominous rumble that made the ground tremble.
Tracy, who stood beside him, shuddered. “Only in Teresina.”
He smiled. “Remember the city’s nickname? Chapada do corisco: flash-lightning flatlands. If ever lightning was going to strike twice in the same spot, it would be here.” He shut the back of the grey four-wheel-drive vehicle. “I’d rather not put that theory to the test, though, so, if you’re ready to go, hop in.”
She climbed into the SUV and buckled in, staring in the direction the jagged flash had come from. “That poor tree looks like it’s lightning’s favorite prom date, judging from the color.”
Scarred from multiple strikes over the years, it stubbornly clung to life, clusters of green leaves scattered along its massive branches. Ben had no idea how it had survived so many direct hits.
Their marriage certainly hadn’t been as lucky.
He got behind the wheel and started the car. “It’ll eventually have to come down.”
“Through no fault of its own,” she murmured. “It’s sad.”
Was she thinking of what had happened between them? It had taken every ounce of strength he’d had after she’d left, but he’d forced himself to keep living. In reality, though, she had been gone long before she’d actually moved out of the house. He’d accepted it and moved forward.
Right.
That’s why he was on his way to São João dos Rios right now, with Tracy in tow. He should have just shut her down and said no. General Gutierrez would have backed him in his decision. So why hadn’t he?
“You sure you want to do this? The airport is on our way. We could still have you on a flight to São Paulo in a jiffy.”
She jerked in her seat, gripping the webbing of the seat belt before shifting to look at him. “I can’t just turn my back on the town. That’s not how I operate.”
Really? It had seemed all too easy for her to turn her back on him. But saying so wouldn’t help anyone.
They reached the entrance to the highway, and Ben sighed when he saw metal barricades stretched across its width.
The four-lane road—long under construction—was still not finished.
He coasted down a steep incline to reach the so-called official detour, which consisted of a narrow dirt track running parallel to the road. It looked more like a gully from water run-off than an actual street. As far as the eye could see, where the highway should have been there was now a long stretch of hard-packed orange clay that was impassable. At the moment trucks seemed to be the only vehicles braving the washboard tract Ben and Tracy were forced to use. Then again, there was no other option. Most things, including food, were moved from city to city via semi-tractor-trailers. And with the current conditions of the highway it was no wonder things were so expensive in northeastern Brazil.
“How long have they been working on this?” Tracy asked.
“Do you really need to ask?”
“No. But it was paved the last time I was here.”
They’d spent most of their marriage in Teresina, the capital of the state of Piaui. He’d rearranged his job so he could stay in one place. Ben thought Tracy had been willing to do the same. How wrong he’d been.
She had come off the medical boat and put someone else in her place, but that was about the only concession she’d made to their marriage. By the time he’d realized she was never going to slow down, he’d lost more than just his wife.
“Yes, it was paved, after a fashion.” He grimaced. “I think the shoulder we’re on is in better shape than the highway was back then.”
Ben slowed to navigate a particularly bad stretch where torrential rains had worn a deep channel into the dirt. “Well, some parts of it, anyway.”
“My car would never survive the trip.”
He smiled. “Are you still driving that little tin can?”
“Rhonda gets great gas mileage.”
His gut twisted. He could still remember the laughter they’d shared over Tracy’s insistence on keeping her ragamuffin car when they’d got married, despite the hazardous stretches of road in Teresina. To his surprise, the little vehicle had been sturdier than it had appeared, bumping along the worst of the cobblestone streets with little more than an occasional hiccup. Like the bumper she’d lost on a visit to one of the neighboring aldéias. She’d come back with the thing strapped to the roof. He smiled. When he’d suggested it was time to trade the vehicle in, she’d refused, patting the bonnet and saying the car had seen her through some tough spots.
His smile faded. Funny how her loyalty to her car hadn’t been mirrored in her marriage.
He cast around for a different subject, but Tracy got there first.
“How’s Marcelo doing?”
Ben’s brother was the new chief of neurosurgery over at Teresina’s main hospital. “He’s fine. Still as opinionated as ever.”
She smiled. “Translated to mean he’s still single.”
“Always will be, if he has his way.” He glanced over at her. “What about you? How’s Projeto Vida going?” The medical-aid ship that had brought them together was still Tracy’s pet project.
“Wonderfully. Matt is back on the team and has a baby girl now.”
Tracy’s sister had died years ago, leaving her husband, Matt, heartbroken. “He remarried?”
“Yep. Two years ago.” She paused. “Stevie … Stephani, actually, is great. She loves the job and fits right into the team.”
“I’m glad. Matt seemed like a nice guy.” Ben had met him on several occasions when they’d traveled to Coari to deliver supplies or check on the medical boat.
“He is. It’s good to see him happy again.”
Which was more than he could say about Tracy. Maybe it was the stress of what she’d been dealing with in São João dos Rios, but the dark circles under her green eyes worried him. He glanced to the side for a quick peek. The rest of her looked exactly as he remembered, though. Long, silky black hair that hung just below her shoulders. The soft fringe of bangs that fluttered whenever the flow from the air-conditioning vent caught the strands. Lean, tanned legs encased in khaki shorts.
And as much as he wished otherwise, being near her again made him long for family and normalcy all over again. He’d always thought she would bring stability to his life, help to counteract his tumultuous upbringing. His parents had drifted here and there, always searching for a new adventure while leaving their two young sons in the care of their housekeeper. In many ways, Ben had felt closer to Rosa than to his own mother, so much so that he’d kept her on at his house long after his parents had moved to the States on a permanent basis.
He’d thought life with Tracy would be different. That their children would have the close-knit family he’d always longed for as a kid. But Tracy, once the first blush of their marriage had faded, had started traveling again, always finding some new medical crisis to deal with, whether with Projeto Vida or somewhere else.
He could understand being married to your career—after all, he was pretty attached to his—but he’d learned to do it from one central location. Surely Tracy could have done the same.
Instead, with every month that had passed, the same feelings of abandonment he’d had as a kid had taken root and grown, as had his resentment. And once she’d fallen pregnant, she’d seemed more obsessed about work than ever, spending longer and longer periods away from home.
When he’d learned she was dealing with a yellow fever outbreak in one of the villages he’d finally snapped and called his old friend General Gutierrez—despite the fact that he knew Tracy been vaccinated against the disease. His ploy had worked. Tracy had come home. But their marriage had been over, even before she’d lost the baby.
So why hadn’t he just settled down with someone else, like Tracy had suggested a few hours earlier? Marriage wasn’t exactly a requirement these days. And why hadn’t Tracy finally asked for a divorce and been done with it?
Questions he was better off not asking.
“What’s the time frame for pneumonic plague?”
Her question jolted him back to the present. “From exposure to presentation of symptoms? Two days, on average. Although death can take anywhere from thirty-six hours after exposure to a week or more. It depends on whether or not other organ systems besides the lungs have been compromised.”
“Oh, no.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve brought packets of antibiotics in that black gym bag I threw in the back. Go ahead and dig through it and take a dose before we get there.”
Tracy unhooked her seat belt and twisted until she could reach the backseat. She then pulled out one of the boxes of medicine and popped a pill from the protective foil. She downed it with a swig from her water bottle then shoved a couple of strands of hair back from her temple. “You have no idea how glad I am that you were able figure it out so quickly.”
“I think I do.” Surely she realized he was just as relieved as she was. “Not everyone has the equipment we do.”
“Or the backing of the military.”
He ignored the bitterness that colored her words. “Part of the reality of living in a developing country. We’ll catch up with the rest of the world, eventually. Marcelo’s hospital is a great example of that. It’s completely funded by sources outside the government.”
“So is Projeto Vida.” She paused when they hit another rough patch of road, her hand scrabbling for the grip attached to the ceiling. “Speaking of funding, we’ll need to check with the nearest pharmacist to make sure they have enough antibiotics on hand. I’ll pay for more, if need be.”
“I was already planning to help with the costs.” He glanced over and their eyes caught for a second. When he turned his attention back to the road, her fingers slid over the hand he had resting on the emergency brake before retreating.
“Thank you, Ben,” she said. “For letting me come. And for caring about what happens to those people.”
He swallowed, her words and the warmth of her fingers penetrating the icy wall he’d built up over the last four years.
It wasn’t exactly the thing that peace treaties were made of, but he got the feeling that Tracy had just initiated talks.
And had thrown the ball squarely into his court.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_184e2acf-376d-5259-b203-01643558ba9c)
MILITARY VEHICLES BLOCKED the road to São João dos Rios—uniformed personnel, guns at the ready, stood beside the vehicles.
“They’re not taking any chances,” Ben muttered as he slowed the car on the dirt track.
“In this case, caution is probably a good thing.” As much as Tracy worried about the presence of the Brazilian army, she also knew the country’s military had helped ease Brazil’s transition from a Portuguese colony to an independent nation. Not a drop of blood had been shed on either side. The two countries were still on good terms, in fact.
There was no reason to fear their presence. Not really. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Ben powered down his window and flashed his residence card, identifying both of them. “General Gutierrez is expecting us.”
The soldier checked a handwritten list on his clipboard and nodded. “You’ve been told what you’re dealing with?”
No. They’d been told nothing other than Ben being asked to come, but Tracy wasn’t sure how much this particular soldier knew. She didn’t want to start a mass panic.
Ben nodded. “We’re aware. We brought masks and equipment.”
She didn’t contradict him or try to add to his words. She knew he’d done quite a bit of work for the military and he’d probably identified many other pathogens for them in the past. They had also taken the time to track her down and challenge her work four years ago, when Ben had asked them to, something that still had the power to make her hackles rise.
The soldier nodded. “I’ll need to search your vehicle. General Gutierrez said there were to be no exceptions. So if you’ll both step out, please.”
Ben glanced her way, before putting the car in neutral—leaving the engine running and nodding at her to get out. He handed her a mask and donned one himself as he climbed from the vehicle.
The soldier looked in the backseat. He then gave the dizzying array of equipment they were carrying a cursory glance but didn’t open any of the boxes. He seemed to be looking for stowaways more than anything, which seemed crazy. Who would want to sneak into a plague-infested area? Then again, she’d heard of crazier things, and nobody wanted this disease to get out of the village and into one of the bigger cities. Teresina wasn’t all that far away, when you thought about it.
Ben came to stand next to her, and she noticed he was careful not to touch her. She swallowed. Not that she wanted him to. She’d had no idea they’d be thrown together in a situation like the one they were currently facing. But despite the pain that seeing him again brought, she couldn’t have asked for a better, or more qualified, work partner.
She heard her name being called and turned towards the sound. Pedro hurried toward them, only to be stopped by another soldier about fifty yards before he reached them. The man’s point came across loud and clear. Once she and Ben crossed this particular line, there’d be no going back until it was all over. Who knew how long that could be?
“Ben, are you sure you want to do this? You can drop me off and go back to Teresina. There’s no reason to risk yourself and all your work.”
A muscle spasmed in his jaw, his eyes on Pedro. “My name was the one on the dance card, remember?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Besides, this is part of my job. It’s why I work at the institute.”
“Yes, well …” She didn’t know how to finish the statement, since her reasons for wanting him to go back to the safe confines of his office was nothing more than a bid to keep her distance. She’d used his invitation as a way to regain access to the town, but she was also smart enough to know they might need his expertise before this was all over. So she held her tongue.
She glanced back at the soldier, who was currently peering beneath the car at its chassis.
Really? The guy had been watching way too many TV shows.
“Can I go in while you keep looking? My assistant is motioning to me, and I want to start checking on the patients.” Daniel and Cleo were in there somewhere.
The soldier waved her through, even as he switched on a flashlight and continued looking.
“Tracy …” Ben, forced to wait for his vehicle to pass inspection, gave her a warning growl, but she shrugged him off.
“I’ll meet you once you get through the checkpoint. Don’t let them confiscate the antibiotics.”
And with that, she made her escape. Securing her mask and feeling guilty, she stepped around the line of military vehicles and met Pedro, pulling him a safe distance away from the soldier who’d stopped him.
“It’s pneumonic plague,” she whispered, switching to Portuguese while noting he was already wearing a mask. “You’ll need to start on antibiotics immediately.”
“I thought so. They’re staying pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, but they’ve set up a quarantine area. Those who are ill have been kept separate from those who still appear healthy—which aren’t many at this point.”
“Any more deaths? How are Daniel and Cleo?”
“Who?”
“The two kids we found in the field.”
Daniel, the boy she’d taken samples from, had been lying in a grassy area, too weak to stand and walk. His sister, showing signs of the illness as well, had refused to leave his side. They’d carried them back to an empty house, just as the military had shown up and taken over.
“No change in the boy, although there have been two more deaths.”
“And Cleo?”
“She’s definitely got it, but now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can start them both on treatment.” Pedro slung his arm around her and squeezed. “Can I say how glad I am to see you? These soldier boys are some scary dudes.”
He said the last line in English, using his best American accent, which made Tracy smile. She glanced over at Ben, who was still glowering at her, and her smile died.
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