Read the book: «The Hunted»

“Julia.” His voice was gravelly.

“Yeah?”

“If for some reason I don’t come back from that op tomorrow …”

Panic constricted her heart. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re not going to get blown up, damn it.”

“I know.” Sebastian paused. “At least I hope not.” Another pause. “But just humor me, okay? If I don’t come back, there’s something I need you to know.”

Unsettled, she moved onto her side and studied his profile. She couldn’t decipher the strange expression on his face, and that only troubled her more. “What is it?” she asked.

After a long moment of hesitation, he breathed in deep, then exhaled in a fast rush. “If I could offer you more than a casual affair, I would.”

Surprise lifted her eyebrows. Okay. Well, she hadn’t been expecting that.

But he wasn’t done surprising her.

Sebastian sighed. “I’m not making any sense, am I? I … I’m cursed, Julia. I can’t love you. Do you understand?”

The Hunted: A band of brothers out for justice … and love.

About the Author

A RITA^® Award-nominated author, ELLE KENNEDY grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, Ontario, and holds a BA in English from York University. From an early age she knew she wanted to be a writer, and actively began pursu- ing that dream when she was a teenager. She loves strong heroines and sexy alpha heroes, and just enough heat and danger to keep things interesting.

Elle loves to hear from her readers. Visit her website, www.ellekennedy.com, for the latest news or to send her a note.

Special Forces Rendezvous
Elle Kennedy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To the most amazing plot-buddy on the planet,

Travis White. And my equally amazing editor,

Keyren Gerlach—you will be missed, K!

Chapter 1

“Are you lost, Blondie?”

Sebastian Stone killed the engine of the Jeep and glanced over his shoulder, ready to work the charm on the female whose tone had been more mocking than welcoming. But when said female strode up to the driver’s side, the flirty remark died in his throat. The girl couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen, which rendered any flirtatious exchanges absolutely inappropriate.

Still, he couldn’t resist a little mocking jab of his own. “Actually, kiddo, I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

He knew no self-respecting teenage girl would respond well to being called kiddo, and sure enough, he got the reaction he’d expected. The girl’s brown eyes flashed with indignation, and her mocha-colored cheeks took on a reddish hue.

Shooting him a sinister look, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously, dude, what are you doing here?”

Sebastian hopped out of the Jeep and nodded at the ramshackle brick building twenty feet away. “I have an appointment with Dr. Davenport.”

Those dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a patient?”

He cocked a brow. “No. Are you?”

“No.” She huffed out an annoyed breath. “Fine. Come on, I’ll take you to Julia.”

“How gracious of you, Miss …” He waited for her to fill in the rest.

“Simone,” she said grudgingly.

“Pleasure to meet you, Simone. I’m Sebastian.”

Grabbing his canvas messenger bag from the backseat, he trailed after the teenager, who, despite the sweltering heat, was surprisingly energetic as she led him toward the covered porch of the clinic.

It was a disgustingly hot day, and the sun had been beating down on Sebastian’s head during the entire drive over here, bringing beads of sweat to his forehead and making his threadbare T-shirt stick to his chest. Eventually he’d taken off the shirt and made the rest of the drive shirtless, drawing uneasy glances from several of the local women he’d passed on the side of the road.

The folks around here weren’t used to seeing strangers in cars roaming the area. Valero was one of the poorer towns in San Marquez, just a small settlement at the base of the mountain. Lush greenery, rocky slopes and an abundance of tangled shrubbery marked the landscape, with gravel and dirt roads winding their way through the terrain like unwanted intruders. With a population of barely a thousand, the town of Valero was nothing more than dilapidated brick houses scattered about, isolated farms, a surprisingly busy marketplace and this Doctors International clinic located on the outskirts of town.

“Julia’s in the back,” Simone said as they stepped through the paint-chipped double doors at the building’s entrance.

The girl stuck to a brisk pace, but Sebastian still had enough time to scope out his surroundings as they ventured deeper into the medical facility. Although Doctors International specialized in visiting areas in dire need of medical care, setting up makeshift hospitals and then packing up and moving on, the organization did have some permanent clinics in place all over the globe. This was one of them, and Sebastian noted that the operation they had going here was professional and efficient.

The hallways were dimly lit but clean. The waiting room he and Simone passed was small and cramped, but offered rows of plastic chairs and toys for the children waiting with their parents. Because the building was L-shaped, they had to take a sharp left and ended up striding down another long hallway. This one featured several closed doors, most likely exam rooms. Through a pair of swinging doors with small square windows, Sebastian glimpsed a large room containing dozens of hospital beds.

“You get a lot of overnight patients?” he asked the teenager.

She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “Sometimes. There’s always a few patients in the AIDS wing, but the general wing isn’t usually so full.”

“But it is at the moment because of the malaria cases that have cropped up, right?”

Simone tossed him another look, this one laced with suspicion. “How do you know about those cases?”

“I’m a journalist,” he answered. “It’s my business to know everything.”

The teenager halted, her hands landing on her slender waist. “You’re a journalist? No way.”

Despite the fact that he was lying through his teeth, he stared at the girl with nothing but sincerity. “Yes way.”

“Who do you write for?” she challenged.

He shrugged. “Everyone. I’m a freelancer, so I’m constantly traveling the world, searching for stories.”

As of three days ago, anyway.

He decided to keep that to himself. He couldn’t very well come out and say, “Hey, guess what? I used to be Special Forces, but now my own government wants me dead.” The kid probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. It did sound farfetched as hell.

Unfortunately, it was the cold, hard truth. For the past eight months, he’d been hiding out with the two remaining members of his former unit. What had once been a nine-man team had been reduced to a paltry three. Six dead—one during that ill-fated mission to San Marquez, but the five that followed? Those deaths were no accidents. After the unit had been recalled back to the States, those men had been systematically killed off, presumably because they’d seen too much during that last op.

Sebastian had nearly died himself, which was why he’d promptly connected with Nick Prescott and their commanding officer, Captain Robert Tate, and the three of them had gotten the hell out of Dodge.

Up until two months ago, he would’ve insisted there was nothing off about that mission to rescue Richard Harrison, the American doctor who’d been held captive by rebel fighters. But as it turned out, nothing was as it seemed—the doctor hadn’t been a hostage at all, and the dead bodies Sebastian’s team had found strewn all over the village? Those villagers hadn’t died at the hands of the rebels but from a virus Dr. Harrison was testing on innocent people.

Unfortunately, that was about all Sebastian knew. The key to finding out who authorized the killing of his unit was in discovering who authorized the manufacturing of a virus he still knew nothing about.

Hopefully that would change today. For the last couple of months, he and the others had kept their eyes and ears open to any unusual medical developments in San Marquez, and last night they’d hit pay dirt.

He didn’t know if these malaria cases in Valero were related to Richard Harrison’s virus, but he was damn well going to find out. Tate and Nick had agreed it was worth the risk for Sebastian to leave their safe house in Ecuador to investigate, and although he hated being out in the open like this, he was determined to make use of every second.

“So what are you doing here, kiddo?” he asked in a conversational tone. “You’re clearly too young to be a volunteer.”

“My dad works here.” Simone stuck out her chin proudly. “He’s a surgeon.”

“Impressive.” Sebastian smirked. “So he just lugs you along during his travels? He doesn’t think school is important?”

She glared at him. “I’m homeschooled. But FYI, there are more important things than school. Like saving lives.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Saving lives was important. So was staying alive, which was his one and only goal at the moment.

Simone led him to the very end of the hall to a door that swung open the second they approached it.

The slender brunette who’d slid through the threshold stumbled in surprise, then let out a laugh as her gaze met Sebastian’s. “Mr. Stone, I presume? I was just coming out to meet you.”

“No need. Simone was gracious enough to escort me to you,” he answered with a charming smile he’d perfected over the years.

The brunette snickered. “Simone, gracious? I’d like to see that.”

Rather than object, the teenager simply shrugged. “You know me too well, Doc.” Then she lifted her nose up and frowned at Sebastian. “Later, dude.”

As Simone bounded off, Sebastian gave the brunette a wry look. “Nice kid.”

She grinned. “She can be a handful, but her bedside manner is surprisingly remarkable. She’s wonderful with the patients.” The brunette stuck out a hand. “I’m Julia Davenport.”

“Sebastian Stone.” He leaned in for the handshake, and the firmness of her grip surprised him, especially because her hands were so small and dainty.

In fact, everything about this woman was dainty. Delicate, even. She was average height, but skinnier than she ought to be. He didn’t mind a willowy figure on a woman, but Julia Davenport could definitely afford to put on a few pounds. She wore a blue tank top that clung to a pair of small breasts and outlined the unmistakable ridges of her ribcage. Her legs weren’t quite scrawny but, again, could have benefited from some extra curves.

Though she did have a surprisingly plump ass, he had to concede, his gaze honing in on that round bottom when Julia turned to reenter her office.

Because he’d always been an ass man, the tantalizing sight stirred his groin, serving as a reminder of his eight-month-long stint of celibacy. Getting laid wasn’t something he’d given much thought to since going into hiding. Granted, it was easy not to think about sex when your only company was two bad-tempered soldiers and a case of watery South American beer.

“How was your flight?” Julia asked.

“Uneventful.” And nonexistent—he’d arrived on the island by boat after bribing the captain of a cargo vessel to give him a ride and drop him outside the harbor where he wouldn’t encounter any customs officials.

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to a very small, very uncomfortable-looking plastic chair.

While Julia rounded a narrow metal desk and sat down, Sebastian crammed his six-foot-two-inch frame into the tiny chair and tried to get comfortable.

His shifting and sliding earned him another grin from Julia Davenport, and now that he focused on her face rather than her too-skinny frame, he realized just how pretty she was. Not classically beautiful by society’s standards, but her features were interesting. A wide, generous mouth that seemed to contradict with her slightly angular jaw, a straight aristocratic nose and a pair of big hazel eyes that gave her that perpetually fragile and doe-eyed air.

But he suspected there was nothing fragile or doe-eyed about this woman, which was confirmed when her expression suddenly turned shrewd. “Okay, what do you want to know?” she asked, getting right down to business.

“Eager to get rid of me?” he couldn’t help but tease.

“Actually, no. I would love nothing more than to sit here with you for the next two frickin’ weeks. I’m exhausted, hungry, cranky and I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who wasn’t sick or dying.” She let out a heavy sigh. “But what can you do? I knew exactly what I was getting into when I signed on for this gig.”

Her blunt tone and frank words intrigued him. When he’d set up this bogus interview, he’d expected to hear a bunch of praise for the Doctors International organization and heartfelt speeches about saving the world and making a difference and all that jazz.

“Sounds like running this clinic is a tough task,” he remarked.

“Tough is an understatement.” A beat. “Aren’t you going to take notes?”

Right. Notes. That was what journalists did.

He bent down and removed a notebook, ballpoint pen and mini tape recorder from his messenger bag. Holding up the recorder, he met Julia’s big hazel eyes and said, “Mind if I record this?”

“Not at all.”

As he set up the recorder and opened his notebook to a fresh page, Julia shot him another one of those no-nonsense looks. “I read some of your articles online this morning. You’re a good writer.”

Thank you, Eva.

Sebastian made a mental note to be nicer to Tate’s fiancée next time he saw her. He hadn’t been Eva Dolce’s biggest fan when the woman had come into their lives. Then again, when a mysterious chick showed up asking your commanding officer to risk his neck and kill a man for her, were you really expected to bust out the trust parade?

But in the end, Eva had proven to be trustworthy, and thanks to her, Hector Cruz, the leader of the rebel group currently terrorizing San Marquez, was out of commission.

Also thanks to Eva, Sebastian had a fake writing career all over the internet. It had only taken Tate’s hacker fiancée a day to establish Sebastian Stone as a bona fide freelancer, mostly by hacking into newspaper sites and changing the by-lines. The story wouldn’t hold up under deep scrutiny, but they’d figured Julia Davenport and her colleagues wouldn’t have time to do a thorough background check on the man who was coming to write a glowing piece about their organization.

“Thanks,” he said, hoping Julia didn’t ask him any specific questions about his “work.” “Though I’m surprised to hear you have internet access here.”

“We do in the clinic, but it’s expensive, so we only use it for work purposes. Communication-wise, we’ve got a radio we use to connect with other clinics on the island, and a sat phone for emergencies.”

“What about cell phones? I noticed mine kept losing its signal the closer I got to the mountains.”

“There’s a cell tower somewhere around here, but my phone rarely gets a signal either. Last night the signal lasted for almost an hour, and the midwife we have on staff actually got to talk to her grandson for more than five minutes.” She flashed another one of those dry grins. “I swear, we throw a party every time someone sees one bar on their phone display. It’s like frickin’ Halley’s Comet just flew overhead.”

He chuckled, and for a moment, he totally forgot he was supposed to interview her. He was enjoying simply talking to Julia Davenport. It had been so long since he’d had a conversation with someone other than Tate or Nick, about something other than the damn targets painted on their backs.

“Anyway, off-topic again,” she said with a chuckle of her own. “Interview away, Mr. Stone.”

“Sebastian.”

“Sebastian,” she echoed.

“All right, well, why don’t you start by telling me a bit about the setup you folks have going here.”

With a nod, she leaned back in her chair and gave him a quick rundown of the Doctors International organization. She described their goals, the way the organization was structured, the equipment they had on hand. Every now and then, Sebastian interrupted with a question to give credibility to the whole interview thing, but in his head, he was trying to figure out the best way to broach the dying patients in the next room.

“So you do have an MRI,” he cut in, pretending to be fascinated.

She nodded, her dainty fingers toying with the end of her long brown braid, which fell over one shoulder. “We do, but we don’t have an on-site expert to handle the results. The scans are sent to the central lab in Merido, and the diagnoses and results are emailed back to us.”

He asked a few more questions without really caring about the answers, except he found himself incredibly fascinated the more he listened to Julia Davenport talk. She wasn’t like any doctor he’d ever met. She actually spoke English, for one, and not that complicated medical jargon that made people’s heads spin like merry-go-rounds.

And he liked the sound of her voice—it was soft but controlled, husky enough to be sexy but still professional. A rush of heat skated up his spine as his gaze moved to her mouth, those pouty lips that pursed each time she paused to organize her next thought.

Damn, he was getting all sorts of turned on courtesy of Dr. Julia Davenport. He definitely needed to nip this strange attraction in the bud. Now.

“So what you’re saying,” he said with another laugh, “is that you’re overcrowded, understaffed, short on equipment and pretty much doing the best you can by the skin of your teeth.”

Her answering laughter summoned another jolt of heat. “Pretty much,” she confirmed.

He studied the random questions he’d scribbled down in his notebook, pretending to think about his next line of inquiry. “What about the rebels?” he asked. “Are you getting any resistance from the ULF soldiers in the area?”

“Actually, no.”

Sebastian was surprised. It was no secret that the United Liberty Fighters resented the alliance between San Marquez and America. For the past ten years, San Marquez had seen nothing but strife and turmoil thanks to the ULF. What started out as an admirable movement to fight a genuinely oppressive government had transformed into violence, unrest and borderline terrorism.

“I’ve been here for six months and so far the rebels have left us alone,” she went on. “They might not appreciate American interference in their political affairs, but I believe that many of these rebels truly care about the country’s citizens. They won’t achieve anything by causing trouble for the medical workers who are attempting to help the people the ULF claims to be fighting for.”

“That’s a good point.” Readjusting in his unbelievably uncomfortable chair, he carelessly crossed his ankles together. “Let’s shift gears for a moment. Tell me about the inpatient care you offer. Simone said you have several AIDS patients staying here in the clinic …” He feigned ignorance. “And something about malaria?”

Julia nodded. “We do treat a handful of AIDS and HIV patients, but as you probably discovered in your research, this area isn’t heavily afflicted by either one. We tend to see more outbreaks of cholera and malaria.”

“So at the moment you’re dealing with a malaria outbreak?” he asked casually.

To his frustration, she smiled and shook her head. “No. We’re keeping about a dozen or so patients for observation, but only until their blood test results come back. It’s a precaution to test for malaria if the patients exhibit any of the symptoms, but I’m fairly certain none of the folks here have the parasite.”

“But a few patients did recently have it, right?”

“Yes, but those were just isolated incidents and not indicative of a major outbreak.”

“Can you tell me more about the cases? Without revealing names or private details, of course.”

Julia twirled the end of her braid around her finger. “They were all from the same family, which is why I don’t believe we have a malaria problem on our hands. It’s been cooler here in the north, so the mosquitoes haven’t been too brutal. The family in question neglected to take the preventive measures we encourage the locals to employ.”

“Mosquito netting, repellents?” he prompted.

“Exactly.” Her tone became soft, regretful. “They didn’t protect themselves and unfortunately, they didn’t come in for treatment right away either. By the time they did, it was too late.”

The pain in her hazel eyes told Sebastian that she was the kind of doctor who actually gave a damn about her patients. Then again, that shouldn’t surprise him. If she’d gotten into medicine for the money, she would be back in the States, running a cushy practice and counting her pile of cash. Instead, she’d chosen to work for peanuts in isolated, needy areas of South America and Africa.

He found himself curious about that, and had to fight the impulse to ask her why she’d gotten into foreign aid in the first place. But he couldn’t get off-topic, not when they were on the very subject he’d come here to talk about.

“How many dead?” he asked gruffly.

“The mother, all five of the children and the grandparents who were living with the family. The father didn’t get sick.” Another flicker of pain crossed those big eyes. “He’s devastated, to say the least. Lost his entire family in less than a week.”

Something hot and unwelcome squeezed Sebastian’s chest. He knew all about loss, didn’t he? Seemed like he’d been losing people his entire damn life.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on painful, unwanted memories. He’d come here to figure out if those malaria deaths were connected to the virus Harrison had been testing in Corazón, but it looked like this was nothing but a false alarm.

Unless … Was Julia Davenport in cahoots with the people hunting him? Was she continuing Harrison’s secret project by killing her own patients?

He let the possibility simmer for a moment, then dismissed it. Nah, he seriously doubted that. He prided himself on being a good judge of character, and it had taken only a few minutes in Julia’s company to decide that the woman didn’t have a malicious bone in her body.

“I wish there was more we could do for these people,” she said, a wistful note entering her voice. “But it’s tough. The organization gets most of its funding from private donors, and with the recession, we’re not seeing as many donations as we used to. Less money means fewer supplies, fewer staff to hire, less everything.”

“But it’s better than nothing,” he pointed out. “You’re doing what you can, Doc, which is more than what other people are doing.”

“You’re doing something, too,” she said with a warm smile. “You’re shedding light on the issues, forcing the people back home to open their eyes to the conflicts and inequality and inferior health care others are struggling with.”

An arrow of guilt pricked his chest, and for a moment he wished he was writing an article, just so he could put another one of those beautiful smiles on Julia’s face.

This was damn perplexing. When it came to women, he didn’t have a type, per se, not unless temporary counted as a type. He didn’t do serious or long-term, and Julia Davenport had serious and long-term written all over her. She was a doctor, for chrissake. Doctors were notoriously serious.

And why was he even thinking about this, anyway? He’d come here to interview the woman, not to sleep with her.

His body, however, clearly hadn’t received the memo. His cock was semihard beneath the zipper of his cargo pants, and his palms tingled with the urge to undo Julia’s braid so his fingers could dive into all those silky brown tresses.

“Sebastian?”

Her amused voice jerked him out of his tasteless thoughts, and he nearly dropped his notebook on the linoleum floor. He made a mad grab for it, only to end up with a paper cut as the notepaper sliced into his thumb.

“Damn,” he mumbled, lifting his thumb to his mouth and swiping his tongue over the line of blood forming there.

Julia’s hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. “Paper cut?”

Something about her teasing voice snapped him into flirt mode again. “Yup. Wanna patch me up?”

She laughed, but he noticed a light flush rising on her cheeks. “Really? A big tough guy like you is worried about a measly little paper cut?”

“Deathly worried.” He slanted his head. “So what do you say, Doc? Will you kiss it and make it better?”

Chapter 2

Julia’s heart actually did a somersault. She’d thought that once you turned thirty, your heart didn’t do silly schoolgirl things like somersaults, but sure enough, it was flipping around in her chest like an excited dolphin.

Of course, how could her heart not turn into a dolphin when the sexiest man she’d ever met was flashing that gorgeous smile at her?

Sebastian Stone was not at all what she’d expected him to be. First of all, he was much more fit than she’d pictured, his long, lean body clad in green cargo pants and a thin gray T-shirt that couldn’t hide the tight six-pack of his abdomen. He wasn’t pretty-boy attractive, but ruggedly handsome, hard lines and angles creating a stark, masculine face that was more Marlboro Man than movie star.

Everything about him teased her senses. His playful gray eyes, the dark blond stubble coating his strong jaw, the woodsy scent of him.

“Cat got your tongue, Doc?”

Jeez, even his voice was sexy. Deep, with a slight rasp to it.

Blinking out of her stupor, Julia glanced at the thumb he’d been holding to his lips. “Sorry, but kissing boo-boos is not part of my job description,” she said, making an attempt to keep her tone dry. “But I should probably clean that up for you.”

He let out a low laugh. “That’s not necessary. It’s just a paper cut.”

She was already heading for the small cabinet next to the door. “We’re in Valero,” she replied. “Even paper cuts get infected, and around these parts, infection can lead to some pretty nasty stuff.”

She appreciated that Sebastian didn’t argue, not even when she rummaged in the cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic, a piece of gauze and a bandage.

Heading back to the desk, she hopped up on the edge and gestured at his hand. His dark blond eyebrows quirked for a moment, and then he willingly gave her his hand.

“I know it seems extreme,” she admitted as she poured some antiseptic on the gauze and wiped the thin cut on the pad of Sebastian’s thumb. “But just suck it up and say thank you.”

His eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Huh, I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“What?”

“You dropping the macho man protests and just accepting my authority.”

The grin he flashed her made her heart skip a beat. “I know when to pick my battles.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you strike me as the type of woman who likes calling the shots and who gets ornery as hell when she’s challenged.”

“I am,” she confessed with a sheepish laugh.

“Like being in control, huh?”

“Of course.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Who wants to feel out of control?”

A seductive glint lit his gray eyes. “Lots of people like relinquishing control every now and then.” He arched one brow. “Especially in the bedroom …”

Heat scorched her cheeks. God, had he really just said that?

Averting her eyes, Julia swiped the gauze over his thumb one final time before unwrapping the bandage and sticking it on him. In an unnaturally high voice, she squeaked, “All done,” and practically vaulted off the desk like she was competing in the Olympics.

His soft laughter tickled her back, which she kept turned as she shoved the supplies into the cabinet. Her heartbeat was going haywire again, and she had to take a moment to collect herself.

What was up with the sexual awareness rippling over every inch of her skin? And she could swear she felt that same awareness being radiated from him. Which made no sense.

Sebastian Stone was sexy as all get-out, and a man as blatantly sensual as him would never be attracted to someone like her. She didn’t suffer from low self-esteem—she was perfectly content with the way she looked—but she also wasn’t delusional enough to think she was a supermodel or anything. Average features, frizzy hair, small breasts. And after six months of working herself ragged in Valero, she was now officially ten pounds underweight. It was hard to find the time to eat when you worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Gorgeous and glamorous she wasn’t. Nor was she overly feminine. She didn’t wear a lick of makeup, kept her hair braided most of the time, and she only donned the professional white coat for patients; the rest of the time, she wore faded jeans, tank tops and beat-up sneakers.

So why was Sebastian looking at her like he wanted to eat her up?

“Sorry, Doc, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

His rueful voice stilled some of the butterflies floating around in her stomach. “You didn’t,” she assured him, finding the courage to meet his eyes.

The second their gazes locked, that hiss of attraction coursed through the air again.

Holy cow. What was going on? She’d never experienced this kind of instant, visceral chemistry with a man before, and though she wasn’t the type of woman who fell into bed with complete strangers, she honestly couldn’t see herself protesting if this man made a move on her.

God, if he marched over and kissed her right now?

She’d probably let him.

Swallowing, she broke eye contact and fiddled with the end of her braid. “Anyway, do you have any more questions? Because, er, I should check on my patients.”

With a knowing smile, Sebastian stood up. He rolled his shoulders for a moment, as if being stuck in that tiny chair had done a number on his back. Hell, it probably had, seeing as the man was built like a linebacker.

“I think we’re all good.” He reached for the tape recorder he’d left on the desk. He clicked it off, then shoved it in his canvas shoulder bag, along with the notebook he’d been scribbling in during the interview.

“So when’s the article coming out?” Julia asked, trying for some casual conversation.

“Not sure yet. I don’t work for a specific publication, remember? So I’ll need to shop the piece around first. I still have your email address, though, so I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

They slid out the door and fell into step with each other in the corridor. When they passed two of the volunteers on staff, Julia quickly introduced them to Sebastian, noting how both women cranked their flirt meters up a notch or two in his presence. Apparently she wasn’t the only one affected by the waves of magnetism rolling off that big, strong body of his. And he reeked of confidence, walking in a measured gait that was almost a swagger, offering that charming smile to everyone they encountered on the way out of the clinic.

When they finally stepped onto the pillared porch, Julia stifled a sigh of relief. The clinic wasn’t tiny by any means, but Sebastian seemed larger than life, and it had been getting hard to breathe walking side by side with him in that narrow hallway.

She inhaled the humid, late-afternoon air, her gaze sweeping over the dusty courtyard that housed a few rust-covered pickup trucks, the two vans they used for transporting supplies, and the crappy old moped she rode when she visited the more remote settlements to see patients who were too old or sick to travel, or who refused to come into town.

For the past six months, this had been her life. Waking up in the canvas tent she shared with three other female staff members. Treating the patients who came to the clinic and visiting those who couldn’t. Sitting inside the mosquito tent with her colleagues every evening, listening to Simone’s father strum his guitar, or Kevin Carlisle, the British physician, tell dirty jokes.

At the thought of Kevin, a frown marred her lips, reminding her that the Brit still hadn’t returned from his visit to the north. He’d been gone for several days and was due to return sometime this morning, but he’d yet to make an appearance.

“Everything all right?” Sebastian asked, evidently noticing her frown.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said absently. “I’m just making a mental note to radio one of our doctors. He was seeing patients in some neighboring villages, and he was supposed to be back by now.”

“Is there reason to worry?”

“Not yet. Kev notoriously loses track of time, so we usually adjust for his tardiness—we take the time he says he’ll be somewhere, add five hours, and if he exceeds that, then we’re allowed to worry.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Sounds like you Doctors International folks are pretty close.”

“We are. It’s bound to happen when you spend every waking hour with the same group of people. We’re like a family now.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He paused for a beat. “In my line of work, you tend to run into the same journalists and media folks and a sense of camaraderie develops.”

A short silence descended, during which Julia tried to come up with a way to ask him if he was sticking around for a while, without sounding like she cared if he was sticking around for a while. After a moment, she gave up. Screw it. She hated playing games, or saying anything less than what was on her mind.

So she opened her mouth and said, “Are you sticking around in San Marquez for a while?”

A regretful look entered his eyes. “I’m afraid not. I’m on a nine-o’clock flight back to Ecuador.”

Disappointment skidded through her, but she hoped it didn’t show on her face. She trailed after him toward the older-model Jeep parked a few dozen yards away. She couldn’t help but admire his taut ass, which looked ridiculously good in those cargo pants of his.

Oh, boy. She was totally lusting after this man.

And he was leaving. Just her luck.

Sebastian opened the driver’s door, but didn’t make a move to hop into the Jeep. Instead, he offered an awkward-looking shrug. She got the feeling this man didn’t feel awkward or nervous often, and she fought a smile as she watched him shift his feet.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Doc.”

“It was no problem at all.”

He cleared his throat. “And if, er, if I find myself in these parts again, maybe I can come see you …”

He trailed off, making it unclear whether that was a question or a statement.

She treated it like the former. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Their gazes collided, and there it was again, the crackle of heat, the sizzle of awareness. Her nipples promptly puckered and strained against her white cotton bra, and that spot between her legs throbbed with anticipation. Jeez. You’d think she hadn’t had sex in two years or something.

Oh, right. She hadn’t had sex in two years.

Pushing aside the sarcastic thoughts, she focused on Sebastian, who looked ready to say more. Julia held her breath, waiting for him to speak, but then an indefinable expression washed over his face. She glimpsed reluctance, regret, even a cloud of torment, and before she could try to make sense of it, he slid into the driver’s seat and shoved a key in the ignition.

“Keep up the good work, Doc.” He raised his voice so she could hear him over the rumble of the engine.

She swallowed another dose of disappointment. “Have a safe flight,” she told him, and then she stepped away from the vehicle and raised her hand in a wave.

The Jeep raised a cloud of brown dust as Sebastian executed a U-turn and sped toward the gravel road that would lead him back to civilization.

“Who was that?”

Julia turned around in time to see Lissa Purdue descending the porch steps and striding in her direction. Out of all the staff at the clinic, she was closest with Lissa, the fun-loving Australian nurse she’d been bunking with for the past six months.

“That was that journalist I told you about,” Julia answered, her eyes still focused on the Jeep, which was slowly disappearing from view.

“For real? Because that was one crazy-hot bloke.”

She sighed. “Yes, he was.”

Lissa’s jaw fell open. “No way. The perpetually professional Dr. Davenport is showing not-so-professional interest in a bloke? Are you ill, love?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t very well argue. It was true, the opposite sex hadn’t interested her much since she’d arrived on the island. While some of the other women—Lissa included—had no qualms about flirting with the single males in their vicinity, Julia made an effort to keep things professional.

There were several attractive men working at the clinic, including Kevin Carlisle and Simone’s single father, Marcus, but Julia wasn’t one to mess around with a coworker. During her last placement in Ethiopia, she’d watched two colleagues fall in love—and then she’d witnessed the relationship crash and burn, making life downright unbearable for everyone who’d had the misfortune of being around.

Unfortunately, with her coworkers off-limits, she didn’t have many other options in terms of sex or romance. Aside from the cute pilot who dropped off supplies every two months, there were no other single, eligible men to lust over.

“You should’ve asked him to stay for dinner,” Lissa added, slinging an arm around Julia’s shoulder.

At six feet, Lissa towered over Julia’s five-foot-five frame. Some of the men on staff teased the Aussie about her monstrous height, but truth was, everyone was a little bit in awe of Lissa. Now Lissa would definitely be Sebastian Stone’s type. A tall, gorgeous redhead with a great rack and endless legs?

Call her selfish, but Julia was kind of glad Sebastian had already left before Lissa came outside. No doubt the man would have been drooling all over his hiking boots.

“He had a flight to catch,” she replied as the two women headed inside.

“Pity. You could’ve benefited from a good shag.”

Julia burst out laughing. “Why are you so concerned with my sex life? Seriously, you talk about it a scary amount.”

“I just don’t like seeing my mates work themselves to the bone, love. I wish you’d let yourself have some fun.”

“I’ll have fun in three months.”

She neglected to mention how incredibly not fun the thought of heading home was, but because Doctors International demanded mandatory breaks between placements, she had no choice but to return to Boston when her time was up.

The nine-months-on, three-months-off cycle was liable to kill her. She’d joined D.I. the second she’d finished her residency, and she’d been with the organization for three years now. She was already dreading returning to Boston and twiddling her thumbs for twelve weeks while she waited for her next cycle to begin. She usually spent the time off taking shifts at a colleague’s private practice and counting the days until she could go overseas again.

“Anyway,” she added as they headed for the small nurses’ station past the waiting room, “you can have fun for the both of us.” She grinned. “That is, if you’re still planning on seducing Kev?”

“Definitely,” Lissa declared, her vivid green eyes shining with mischief. “The second you and Marcus graciously bestow me with a night off, I will be sneaking into Dr. Carlisle’s tent and finally putting us both out of our misery.”

“You have been dancing around each other for six months now. It’s about time.”

“Exactly.” Lissa pulled out the elastic restraining her hair and retied the curly red strands in a fresh ponytail. “I’ll see you later, love. Sally needs help with those vaccinations.”

Julia watched the nurse bounce off in her usual lively fashion. Earlier, when she’d told Sebastian that her colleagues were her family, she hadn’t been kidding. Lissa truly had become like a sister to her. Kevin was her teasing older brother. Marcus was the father figure she’d lacked her entire life. Helga, the midwife on staff, was the sweet grandmother who handed out endless words of wisdom.

With both her father and sister gone, Julia was all alone in the world. Sure, she still had her mother, but the two of them had never been close, and once Darlene moved to the West Coast a few years back, they’d completely lost touch. Not that Julia was beat-up over it—Darlene Davenport was a cold, self-absorbed woman without a single maternal bone in her body, and Julia was better off without her.

“Jules, I need you in here.”

Shifting her gaze, she caught sight of Nadir Patel poking his head out of an exam room. Along with Julia, Kevin and Marcus, Nadir was the fourth physician on staff. In his native India, he had run a thriving pediatrics practice, so he was responsible for dealing with the younger patients in Valero.

“Everything okay?” she called.

“I’m attempting to take a blood sample and our patient is a tad cranky. Perhaps you could lend a hand?”

A loud, petulant wail came from the exam room, telling Julia that Nadir’s patient was more than a tad cranky.

“Sure thing,” she called back.

Ten minutes later, she’d successfully assisted Nadir in drawing blood from the bawling two-year-old. Afterward, she went to check on her own patients, pleased to see that many of the ones who’d come in complaining of malaria-like symptoms were no longer showing signs of the parasite. She still couldn’t release them until the blood test results were in, but she was fairly confident they weren’t looking at a serious outbreak.

For the next three hours, she bustled around the clinic, doing everything from stitching up patients to changing bedpans. Her white coat might label her a doctor, but the clinic was so understaffed that the responsibility lines blurred significantly, and Julia often found herself being not just a doctor, but also a nurse, a surgeon, a janitor, a cook, a babysitter or any other job that cropped up.

It was no surprise that by the time nine o’clock rolled by she was ready to collapse. Because she was on the evening shift, she hadn’t eaten dinner with her colleagues. She’d scarfed down a can of cold beans during a break between patients, and her stomach rumbled with hunger by the time she shrugged out of her coat and left the clinic through the back doors.

The D.I. staff lived in heavy canvas tents behind the building. There were four large tents, two for the men, two for the women, which housed six cots each, and along with those, there were a few smaller tents for people with special circumstances; one for Simone, and the others were reserved for the married staff.

She strode to the tent she shared with Lissa and two other nurses—Kendra, a lovely African-American woman from Detroit, and Marie-Thérèse, a young French blonde right out of nursing school.

Kendra was passed out on one of the cots, so Julia tried to be quiet as she sank onto the edge of her cot. She dimmed the battery-operated lamp so as not to disturb the sleeping nurse, then opened one of the two drawers and pulled out her toiletry kit.

As tired as she was, she wanted a cool shower before bed to wash off the heat and grime of the day. There was a bathroom and shower area behind the tents, which they shared with the men. Not that it mattered much in such primitive conditions, but a schedule had been arranged to preserve the modesty of those who actually still cared about things like that. Julia was always far too exhausted to worry about who might see her naked.

She stood up with her toiletries in hand, then froze when the radio on the night stand began to crackle. Shooting a quick look at Kendra, she grabbed the radio and hurried out of the tent, ducking through the flap.

Outside, the small recreation area was deserted, and she headed for the long picnic-style tables where the staff usually congregated for meals.

“J-J-Julia … c-can … h-hear me?”

She could barely make out the tinny voice emerging from the speakers, but it sounded like Kevin’s. Her brows furrowed as it suddenly occurred to her that he still hadn’t come back.

As more static hissed out of the radio, she clicked the button and said, “Kevin, is that you?”

“J-Julia …”

She heard him more clearly this time. Relief swept through her. All right, at least he was still in one piece. He’d probably decided to spend the night in one of the villages rather than trek it back to the clinic in the dark.

“Kev, do you read me? Where are you?”

“I … village … Esperanza …”

Julia frowned. “Esperanza? Why did you go so far north?”

More static, followed by what sounded like a round of heavy coughing. “Things … h-here … bad.”

For the first time since she’d heard her colleague’s voice, a real pang of concern tugged at her gut. “Kev? What’s going on there?”

“I … t-treatment … don’t know … never seen it before.”

Unease circled her spine like a school of sharks. Her palms started to tingle as a wave of panic swelled inside her.

“The water … maybe … don’t know.” Kevin sounded more anguished, and his British accent grew more pronounced, the way it always did when he was upset. “B-bad, Jules … Don’t know wh-what’s wrong with me … stay away.”

Those last two words sent a chill through her body.

“Y-you hear me, Julia? D-don’t come here.” He repeated himself, more desperate now. “Don’t … come … here.”

And then the radio fell silent.

Chapter 3

“You’re at a church? You’re kidding, right?” The incredulous voice of Second Lieutenant Nick Prescott blared out of the satellite phone.

Chuckling, Sebastian swept his gaze over the single-story brick building a hundred yards away. Two simple wooden crosses were the only hints that it was a church, one adorning the door, the other affixed on the roof. A yellow glow spilled out of the window at the side of the structure, telling Sebastian that the elderly priest who’d shown him hospitality was still awake in his quarters.

“No joke,” he replied. “Though technically I’m in a barn.”

He glanced behind him at the darkened entrance of the little barn he’d be spending the night in. He’d already scouted the area to make sure it was safe, and now he was looking forward to collapsing on the big pile of hay in that empty stall and falling asleep listening to the snorts and neighs of the priest’s two Appaloosa mares.

“So you ran out of gas, and instead of hiking to the nearest gas station, you decided to spend the night in the San Marquez countryside?” Nick’s confusion only seemed to deepen. “And since when do you not carry an extra gas can with you? You’re like the poster boy for always prepared.”

“I had an extra can,” he muttered, swallowing a rush of frustration. “Someone stole it. Most likely one of the patients at the clinic, because I can’t imagine anyone on staff robbing the reporter who’s there to write a story about them.”

And if he hadn’t been so distracted by Julia Davenport’s big hazel eyes, maybe he would have noticed the missing gas container when he was leaving the clinic.

Fortunately, once the Jeep could no longer run on fumes, at least it had the decency to break down near this church.

“Fine. That doesn’t explain why you’re not walking to the gas station as we speak.”

Sebastian stifled a sigh. He couldn’t explain why he needed this respite. It didn’t make much sense—he definitely couldn’t afford to be lazy right now. Unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life on the run, he needed to find out who wanted him dead, and to do that, he had to learn everything he could about Project Aries and the mysterious virus Richard Harrison had been testing on those villagers.

But this was the first time in a long time he’d been alone. Without Tate or Nick lurking around, without that feeling of urgency weighing down on him. Not that the situation was any less urgent. It was as critical as ever. It just didn’t feel so … smothering at the moment.

A part of him wished he had stuck around in Valero, maybe talked Julia Davenport into having a cup of coffee with him.

Oh, fine, who was he kidding? He would have talked her into going to bed with him.

He’d been thinking about the woman all damn night, and he still couldn’t figure out how a skinny, overworked doctor could get his blood going like this. Hell, he’d barely even blinked when he’d met the drop-dead gorgeous Eva Dolce last month, and Eva oozed sex appeal. Julia Davenport was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t sex incarnate or anything.

So why had he been having X-rated thoughts about the woman ever since he’d left the clinic?

A sigh lodged in his throat. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t stuck around. Sex had the power to be distracting as hell, and at the moment, he couldn’t afford any distractions.

“I’ll catch a boat tomorrow morning,” he told Nick. “There’s no reason for me to rush, anyway. This malaria thing was a false alarm.”

“It would help if we knew what symptoms to look for. We don’t know a damn thing about the virus that killed those people in Corazón.” Nick grumbled in aggravation. “Are you sure Cruz didn’t offer any other details about the state of those bodies?”

“You can keep asking that question a hundred more times, Prescott, but it won’t change the damn answer. Cruz said the only visible signs of illness were nosebleeds and some foaming at the mouth. That’s it.”

The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. All the information they had on the virus had come from a source that could hardly be considered trustworthy—Hector Cruz, the former leader of the ULF, who was now very much dead thanks to Tate. But although Cruz had been responsible for killing Tate’s brother during that ill-fated mission in Corazón, the rebel leader had insisted that he hadn’t laid a finger on his countrymen and women, whose dead bodies had been strewn all over the village.

Cruz and his men had apparently burned the bodies in case they were contagious, but Sebastian still wished he’d seen the evidence of a disease with his own eyes rather than having to take a dead man’s word for it.

“Well, it probably isn’t something that’s found in nature,” Nick was saying, still sounding incredibly irritated. “Harrison headed up the biological weapons department at D&M Initiative, so we have to assume the virus he was testing was manufactured.”

Sebastian let out a breath. “Yeah, and it’s probably a mutated strain of something or other, which means it’s doubtful there’s an existing vaccine for it.”

Nick’s answering breath was equally glum. “Can’t be government-sanctioned either. President Howard has been firm about his position on the manufacturing of biological weapons.”

Unlike his glass-half-full counterpart, Sebastian was far more cynical. “Oh, this is government. But my guess is Mr. President knows nothing about it. I think we’ve got a bad apple trying to poison the rest of the tree.”

“Maybe.” Nick mumbled an uncharacteristic curse. “Look, just get your ass back here, Seb. Eva and her hacker friend are looking into Project Aries and trying to find out who worked on it. Once we have some names, Tate says you and I should go stateside and do some digging.”

His brows shot up. “The captain actually thinks it’s safe for us to go home?”

“The captain is tired of being on the run, and anxious to marry the love of his life,” Nick replied dryly.

“And perfectly willing to risk our necks to make it happen, I see.” The remark was only half-serious. He knew that Captain Robert Tate would gladly sacrifice his own life for his men, and Sebastian wholly returned the sentiment. Tate and Nick were the only friends he had in this godforsaken world.

“Okay, well, let me get back first and we’ll figure out our next move from there,” he said.

“Sounds good. Be careful, Seb.”

“Always am, Nicky.”

He disconnected the call and shoved the sat phone into his waterproof duffel, then slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the open doorway of the unlit barn.

He was just crossing the threshold when the whir of helicopter rotors echoed in the air. Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian gazed up at the inky sky, and sure enough, glimpsed bluish lights winking amid the black backdrop. A second later, a military chopper whizzed overhead, followed by a second chopper, and then a third.

Huh. Well, that couldn’t be good.

No sooner had the bleak thought entered his mind than the sound of car engines rumbled in the night air.

He didn’t bother ducking out of sight; he was shrouded by shadows, so nobody would be able to spot him all the way from the road. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he watched as half a dozen Jeeps sped along the one-lane dirt road. He couldn’t make out individual passengers, but the sea of navy blue-and-gold uniforms said it all. San Marquez military.

“Now where are you hurrying off to, boys?” he murmured, eyeing the scene in interest.

Probably some skirmish with the ULF that needed to be handled, or at least that was what he guessed until he noticed three black medic vans sandwiched between the passing Jeeps. The vans were the equivalent of an American ambulance, yet the sirens weren’t wailing, and the headlights were off.

Sebastian frowned. If the military was responding to an emergency, why go out of its way to make the ambulances less conspicuous? They should be plowing full speed ahead, lights flashing and sirens shrieking.

Unless the military didn’t want anyone to know there was a medical emergency in progress …

As his shoulders stiffened, Sebastian moved away from the barn with purposeful strides. He took two steps in the direction of his Jeep before remembering that the damn thing was out of gas.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Because he knew for a fact that the priest didn’t own a car, he had no way of following that military convoy. Not unless he did it on foot, which would be pointless. By the time he tracked the soldiers, whatever emergency they were racing toward could be yesterday’s news.

Crap. He needed a vehicle. He scanned his brain, trying to remember if there were any cars at that farm he’d spotted five or six miles east of the church. Or he could always jog back to the Doctors International clinic and steal one of the pickups that had been parked out front, but the clinic was a good two hours away, so—

A loud snort interrupted his thoughts.

Sebastian glanced at the barn, his jaw tensing as he realized the solution to his problem was right beyond that door.

But … Crap. Would he be signing his own ticket to hell if he stole a horse from a priest?

A heavy sigh slipped out. Yeah, probably.

Not to mention that he hadn’t been on horseback since … damn, since an eighth-grade trip to that dude ranch in Wyoming.

But, hey, like riding a bike, right?

Decision made, he strode into the barn and made a beeline for the first horse stall. Twenty minutes later, the healthier-looking of the two mares was saddled up and Sebastian was leading the spotted Appaloosa out of her stall.

He made sure to leave five-hundred American dollars on a bale of hay where the old priest would be sure to find it.

“I’m going with you,” Lissa declared, her green eyes glittering with fortitude.

“You’re staying here,” Julia corrected. She shoved a spare flashlight into her backpack, along with an extra package of batteries.

“Jules—”

“Don’t argue with me about this, Lis. Everyone else just got off a forty-eight-hour shift, and Kevin isn’t here. With me gone, that leaves only Nadir and Marie-Thérèse to run the entire clinic by themselves tonight. They need you.”

A frustrated breath flew out of Lissa’s mouth. “Fine. But radio me the second you get there.”

“I will,” she promised.

She zipped up her bag and marched out of the supply room, with Lissa hot on her heels.

“Did Kev say what the emergency was?” Lissa asked.

“No. He didn’t say much of anything.” She pretended to adjust the straps of her bag, just so she wouldn’t have to meet the nurse’s eyes.

Don’t come here.

Kevin’s ominous warning continued to buzz in her mind like a persistent fly, and she couldn’t seem to swat it away. She wanted to tell Lissa about what Kev had said, but she didn’t want to raise a panic. Besides, the radio had been so static-riddled that she might have misheard him.

Don’t come here. Ha. Fat chance. Did he honestly think he could say something like that and she’d actually abide by it? If her friend and colleague was in trouble, there was no chance of Julia staying away.

“I’ll take one of the trucks,” she said, swiping a set of keys from the bulletin board near the front door. “It’ll get me there faster than my moped.”

Lissa still looked unhappy as the two women stepped outside. “Drive carefully, love. And contact the clinic the moment you reach Esperanza.”

“I will.”

She slid into the cab of the pickup and stuck the key in the ignition. It took a few tries for the engine of the old truck to chug to life.

Poking her head out the open window, she waved at the redhead and managed a smile loaded with encouragement she certainly didn’t feel. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

It was pitch-black out as Julia made her way to the main road. The weak glow of the pickup’s headlights didn’t offer much help in lighting the way, but fortunately, she knew these roads like the back of her hand. For the past six months, she’d ridden her moped all over this region, but she still forced herself not to speed as she drove north. Hardly any of the locals who lived around here owned cars, but it wasn’t uncommon for a herd of goats, or a stray cat or dog, to dart into the middle of the road.

Esperanza was about seventy miles northwest in the remote woodlands at the base of the mountain. During the day, the drive would take only an hour or so, but with the low visibility and reduced speed, Julia ended up nearing the little settlement almost two hours later.

Because she hadn’t been able to see more than five feet in front of her during the entire drive, the sudden burst of light that came out of nowhere hurt her eyes.

Squinting, she gaped at the unexpected sight before her.

Military vehicles formed a barricade in the middle of the road, and upright floodlights had been set up in various spots to illuminate the area. Soldiers moved around with purpose, their murmured voices wafting into the open window of her truck. The uniforms identified the men as San Marquez military, but amid the blue and gold she also saw … green?

Her eyes widened as she realized precisely what she was looking at. Americans. Those were American soldiers.

And every single person wore a white surgical mask over his face.

“What the …” She trailed off, unable to tear her eyes off the confusing chaos up ahead.

Seeing as she couldn’t exactly go straight, Julia pressed her foot on the brake and jerked the gearshift into Park, just as a shout rang out.

The next thing she knew, four soldiers were swarming her pickup like crazed fans surrounding a celebrity’s limousine. The driver’s door was thrown open, someone grabbed her arm, and her sneakers landed on the gravel with a thud.

“What are you— Let go of me!” she ordered when a strong male hand circled her upper arm and squeezed it hard. She shrugged the hand off and staggered backward.

“Who are you?” one of the soldiers demanded. She couldn’t see his mouth beneath that surgical mask, but his blue eyes were as cold as an Arctic ice cap, and he’d spoken to her in English. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Dr. Julia Davenport. A colleague of mine was supposed to—”

Her voice died abruptly as she suddenly noticed something up ahead in the distance.

She wrinkled her brow, trying to make sense of that head-scratching visual. Was that a big pile of garbage bags? What the hell were these soldiers doing with—Body bags. Oh, God. Those were body bags.

As horror whipped up her spine, Julia’s gaze flew to the first person she saw. It happened to be a beefy African-American soldier with shuttered brown eyes and a thick black mustache poking out from the top of his mask.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice sounding far calmer than she felt.

The man didn’t answer. Rather, he grabbed her arm and forcibly moved her away from her truck. “Please come with us, ma’am,” he said in a monotone voice.

Outrage slammed into her. “What? No. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on here.”

Her protest was ignored. The grip on her arm tightened.

“I’m an American citizen!” she blurted out. “You can’t just detain me for no reason! I haven’t done anything wrong, damn it!”

She was still shouting out protests as the soldiers dragged her away.

Chapter 4

“What is your business here?”

Julia was grinding her teeth so hard that she was surprised the enamel hadn’t yet filed away to dust. If they asked her that question one more time, she was absolutely going to scream.

For the past hour and a half, she’d been detained in a canvas tent, sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair in the middle of the dirt floor. The chair was the only piece of furniture in the tent, which lent the space a seriously ominous feel. She wasn’t bound, she wasn’t gagged, but the two guards at the entrance and the two soldiers looming over her made it clear that she was a prisoner here.

She had no frickin’ clue what was going on, but it sure as hell wasn’t good. Those body bags out there … Oh, God, and where was Kevin? Where were the people? As she’d been dragged through the village toward the tents set up near the tree line, all she’d seen were soldiers.

Esperanza was deserted. No signs of life. None.

“Answer the question, please.”

Tightening her lips, she met the masked face of one of the soldiers, a tall man who carried himself with so much authority that she knew he must be the one in charge. The surgical masks everyone wore definitely indicated there was some sort of medical emergency in progress, but because nobody was wearing full hazmat suits, she deduced that the mysterious disease that had triggered these precautions probably wasn’t airborne.

“I already answered your question,” she said tersely. “My name is Julia Davenport. I’m a doctor and I run the clinic in Valero. I came here to check on my colleague, Dr. Kevin Carlisle.”

“At this hour of the night?” Suspicion lined the man’s tone. When he crossed his arms over his broad chest, her gaze was drawn to the four stars on the shoulders of his uniform.

She scanned her brain, trying to remember what that signified. Holy crap, he was a general.

Which spoke volumes about the importance of this interrogation.

Angrier than she’d ever been, Julia met her captor’s eyes. “How many more times do I have to answer these same questions? I told you, Dr. Carlisle radioed me. It sounded like an emergency. I was worried. I drove up here to check on him. The end.”

“Watch your tone,” the second soldier ordered.

She shifted her gaze to him, noting that he looked younger than his counterpart and wore a uniform without any insignia. “Oh, gee, was I being rude? Are your other prisoners more polite and agreeable than I am?”

“You’re not a prisoner,” the general replied, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, no?” Arching a brow, she rose from her chair.

The two soldiers guarding the door instantly snapped the barrels of their assault rifles in her direction, their body language becoming menacing.

“That’s what I thought,” she said coolly, then sank back down.

The general’s lips tightened. “Let’s not play games, Dr. Davenport. I need to—”

“Games?” she interrupted. “Are you kidding me? This isn’t a game, for Pete’s sake! Where is my colleague? Why is the village overflowing with body bags?”

As expected, she didn’t receive an answer. Just another question.

“Did you inform any of the staff at the Valero clinic that you were coming up here?”

“No.”

The lie came out smoothly, and there’d been no hesitation on her part. Somehow, she’d known that answering yes to that would be the worst possible thing she could do. As it was, she’d only officially told Lissa about her plans, but the nurse had undoubtedly filled the others in after Julia had left. Maybe it was her paranoia talking, but she had the sinking feeling that these men would send a team of soldiers to the clinic if they thought she’d said anything to her coworkers.

“You left Valero without telling anyone?” The younger soldier looked unconvinced.

“I was alone in my tent when Dr. Carlisle’s distress call came in,” she answered. “My colleagues had their hands full in the clinic with some potential malaria patients, so I just left. I planned on radioing them when I reached Esperanza.”

The men exchanged a look, and then the general gave an imperceptible nod that made Julia’s heart drop to the pit of her stomach. They knew she was lying. Crap.

She decided to distract them. “Why are you wearing masks?” she demanded.

“That is none of your concern,” the general said stiffly.

“Are you kidding me?” she said again, as amazed as she was outraged. “I’m a doctor, and you’re clearly worried that there’s been an outbreak of something. Is it a bacterium? How is it transmitted?”

“Dr. Davenport, we are the ones asking the questions here. Now please tell us, who in Valero knows you came here?”

Disbelief spiraled through her. She shook her head a couple of times, wondering how any of this could possibly be happening, but the more she tried to make sense of the situation, the more afraid she became. Her palms dampened, her body growing cold. Something really, really bad was going on here.

God, Kevin, where are you?

“Dr. Davenport,” the general snapped.

“No,” she snapped back.

He faltered. “No, what?”

“I’m not answering any more questions until I speak to a lawyer.” She scowled at him. “Or to someone who’s willing to give me some answers of my own.”

Then she shut her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the two men hovering over her.

After a moment, the general spun on his heel and stalked toward the tent’s entrance. The younger soldier quickly trailed after him.

Both men exited the tent, as did the two guards, but she didn’t fool herself into believing that the latter had gone far. She suspected the guards were right outside those canvas flaps, ready to shoot her down if she tried to escape.

Escape.

What on earth was going on?

And why was she starting to suspect that the only way she was getting out of here would be in one of those body bags lying on the dirt?

Sebastian watched in growing alarm as more body bags were tossed into the back of the wide-load trucks parked at the entrance of the village. He’d counted thirty-five bags in the first truck, and another forty-one in the second. Had to be the villagers. Christ. More dead villagers.

The soldiers in charge of disposal efficiently carried out their task without comment or expression. Sebastian swallowed a rush of disgust, wondering how they justified it to themselves. Probably assured themselves they were good little soldiers simply following orders, and who were they to question orders?

His jaw tightened. Brought to mind all those soldiers in Nazi Germany—they hadn’t questioned much either, had they?

Battling his rising fury, Sebastian crept deeper into the forest, moving through the shadows like a nocturnal predator. Being a black ops soldier meant he possessed the power of invisibility, the ability to sneak right underneath these men’s noses, even slit their throats without anyone knowing he was ever there.

Through the trees, he espied a cluster of khaki-colored tents. The men in charge had set up a headquarters of some sort, and that was the place to be if he wanted answers. The strap of his M4 was slung over his shoulder, but he didn’t reach for the rifle. Rather, he slipped a lethal hunting knife from the sheath on his hip and gripped the ox-bone handle with ease. If he had to eliminate a guard, he preferred to do it quietly.

He neared an opening in the brush and pressed himself up against the rotting bark of a rosewood tree. His position offered a line of sight to the entrance of a tent that two uniformed men had just emerged from. They were tailed by two heavily armed soldiers, and the uniforms marked all four as American. The entire village was crawling with both U.S. and San Marquez military, indisputable evidence that some sort of joint task force was in effect.

His stomach went rigid as he thought of those body bags. Task force? No, make that joint cleanup crew.

“She’s lying.”

The muffled voice drifted toward him, uttered by—holy hell, a United States Army general. Christ, they’d sent someone that high on the totem pole to handle this cleanup? This was bigger than he’d thought.

He inched closer, struggling to make out the conversation occurring twenty yards away.

“… to Valero. Question the staff, see what Carlisle told them.”

“… necessary? And to contain that many people?”

“Easier if …”

Sebastian’s gut swam with uneasiness. He needed to get closer.

Adjusting his grip on the knife, he moved without making a solitary sound, finding cover behind another tree, this one with low-hanging branches that allowed him to blend into the darkness.

“… the clinic will be handled.”

The clinic? Waves of foreboding crawled up his spine, moving faster and gathering in intensity when the general uttered a very familiar name.

“Davenport needs to be handled, too.”

Sebastian’s shoulders became stiffer than a block of marble. Davenport? As in Julia Davenport? As in the woman he’d spoken to only hours ago?

“… won’t be hard. Her death could be blamed on the virus.”

The general seemed to mull it over. “Carlisle was checking on patients when he died.”

“We’ll say she was here, too. Making the rounds with Carlisle.”

“The powers that be won’t like this. Two dead American doctors? This won’t look good.” There was a savage curse. “But that’s what they get for releasing Meridian this close to a damn international medical facility. Who was the genius who made that call?”

Meridian? Sebastian filed away the word as he watched the duo move away from the tent.

The general glanced at the soldiers manning the entrance. “If she tries to run, shoot her,” he ordered.

Sebastian’s body was strung tighter than a drum as the two men stalked off. If what he’d heard was accurate, then Julia Davenport was inside that tent. How the hell had that happened?

The colleague. Crap. She must have driven up here to check on her colleague, that Kevin guy she’d been worried about earlier.

Her death could be blamed on the virus.

His next breath came out ragged as a jolt of anger slammed into his gut. These bastards were planning to kill Julia and blame it on the virus.

No way.

No freaking way would he allow that to happen.

She’s not your objective.

The nagging little voice only further pissed him off. He knew that rescuing the doctor wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, all the mayhem and confusion of the past ten months was a direct result of his unit’s attempt to rescue a doctor. But Harrison’s death was no sweat off his back, not after they’d discovered the man was treating humans like lab rats.

But Julia Davenport? He’d be damned if he was going to let her become another casualty of that goddamn virus. So yes, he ought to be gathering more intel, listening in on more conversations, attempting to get a peek inside one of those body bags, but Sebastian was more than willing to give up any insight he’d find if it meant saving the smart, sassy woman who’d made his body burn today.

The soft hissing sound brought a frown to Julia’s lips. She twisted around in the chair, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from. She strained her ears, but the sound had stopped.

Tssssss.

Her forehead creased. Okay, what was that?

For a second she wondered if her captors had let loose a poisonous snake in the tent or something. As her heartbeat quickened, she shot to her feet and examined the ground, but she didn’t see a rattler crawling on the dirt.

Tssssss.

She spun around, gaping when she noticed a line slowly appearing in the tent wall.

Someone was cutting the canvas!

Fear and astonishment warred inside her, but the latter quickly overtook the former when a large hand poked through the slit in the tent and a familiar pair of silver eyes suddenly locked with hers.

Julia gasped. “Seba—” Her jaw snapped closed when he swiftly held his index finger to his lips.

A million questions ambushed her brain, but even if he hadn’t ordered her to remain quiet, she suspected she wouldn’t have been able to make her vocal cords work anymore. She was too dumbfounded.

The man who slipped into the tent like a ghost was not the same one she remembered from Valero. Gone were the casual pants and T-shirt. Now he wore a skintight black shirt that clung to the rippled muscles of his broad chest, and black cargo pants encased his long legs. He had black boots on his feet, and a nasty-looking rifle slung over one shoulder, though not as nasty as that blade he skillfully wielded in his hand.

Julia gulped as the sharp steel of the knife winked in the light from the electric lanterns illuminating the tent.

She was looking into the eyes of a warrior. The playful, sensual twinkle from before had vanished. Sebastian Stone was all business now, those gray eyes grim with fierce determination. Waves of strength and danger rolled off his powerful body, making her mouth go dry.

Without a word, he walked toward her and cupped her chin with one hand.

She jumped, then relaxed when she saw the unspoken question in his gaze.

Are you okay?

Julia managed a shaky nod. God, what was he doing here?

And why did she get the feeling that this man was the furthest thing from a freelance journalist?

Sebastian took her arm and led her to the slit he’d created in the tent. “Stay close,” he murmured, his voice so low it was barely audible. “If I say move, move. If I say stop, stop. Do exactly what I tell you, do you understand?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. And then her pulse took off.

Wait a minute—he was helping her escape?

“This entire village is crawling with soldiers,” she whispered with a violent shake of her head. “They’ll shoot us if we try to run.”

“They’ll kill you if you stay.”

You. Not us. She didn’t miss the distinction, and she suddenly grew queasy. There wasn’t an ounce of confusion on Sebastian’s rugged face, only focused intensity, which told her he must know a hell of a lot more about what was going on here than she did.

So maybe it would be prudent to listen to the man instead of arguing about his plans.

He reached behind him and pulled a black handgun from his waistband. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

She nodded.

He promptly shoved the weapon in her hands. “Good.”

Her heart pounded a frantic beat in her chest as she watched Sebastian carefully part the canvas to peer out. He seemed satisfied by what he saw, because he ducked back in and shot her a firm look.