Her Hard to Resist Husband (6 page)

“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.

The soldiers weren’t the only scary dudes.

Pedro continued, “The military docs have IVs going on some of the patients, but they wouldn’t tell me what they injected into the lines.”

“Strange.” She glanced at one of the houses, which currently had a small contingent of guards at the doors and windows. “Did they say anything about antibiotics?”

“I think they’re still trying to get a handle on things.”

Ben joined them on foot, and she frowned at him. “Where’s your car?”

“They’re going to drive it in and park it in front of one of the houses. They’ve evidently got a research area already set up.”

He glanced at Pedro, whose arm was still around her, obviously waiting for an introduction. Okay, this was going to be fun. She noticed Pedro also seemed to be assessing Ben, trying to figure out what his place was in all this. He’d never asked about her ring, and she’d never volunteered any information. Several people had assumed she was widowed, and she’d just let it ride. Maybe she could simply omit Ben’s relationship to her.

Well, that would be easy enough, because there was no relationship.

“Ben, this is Pedro, my assistant.” She hesitated. “Pedro, this is Ben, head epidemiologist at the
Centro de Doencas Tropicais
in Teresina. He’s the one I went to see.” Maybe no one would notice that she’d conveniently left out his last name. Not that she went by it any more.

Ben held out his hand. “Ben Almeida. Nice to meet you.” He slid Tracy a smile that said he knew exactly what she’d done and why. “I also happen to be Tracy’s husband.”

The look of shock in her assistant’s eyes was unmistakable, and he quickly removed his arm from around her shoulders. He shot her a look but dutifully shook hands and muttered something appropriate. She, on the other hand, sent Ben a death stare meant to cut him in two. Instead, he seemed totally unfazed by her ire.

Ben nodded. “I’ve heard Tracy’s account of what happened here. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve observed?”

It was said as if she was clueless. Pressure began building in the back of her head.

Her assistant knew better. “Well, she’s probably told you more than I could. We’ve got about fifteen cases of… Tracy said it’s pneumonic plague?”

“Yes.” Ben’s eyes followed the progress of some men in hazard gear as they went from one building to another. “And judging from the way they’re treating it, they know what they’re dealing with. Are they still burning the bodies?”

“Yes. Two more in the last couple of hours,” Pedro said.

“The boy whose sample I brought in—Daniel—is still alive, but he’s pretty sick. His sister is as well.”

She didn’t need to say what else she knew: antibiotics needed to be started within twenty-four hours of the appearance of symptoms to be effective. Ben would already know that. The treatment window was narrow, but she wouldn’t give up, no matter how sick the patient.

Tracy ached for the two children, their mother ripped from them without so much as a funeral service or a chance to say goodbye. Just thrown onto a flaming pyre to destroy any pathogens. How many other kids would watch helplessly as the same thing happened to their relatives? As much as she knew it had to be done, it still didn’t make it any easier. How would she feel if the body being burned was Ben’s?

No. Not Ben.
She wouldn’t let her mind go there.

“Where are they putting you up for the night?” she asked Pedro.

“They’ve got medical civilians in one house and military personnel in another. They post guards out front of both of them, though.”

Ben’s four-wheel drive pulled up beside them and the soldier poked his head out of the open window. “I’m taking your vehicle to the research center we’ve set up. Do you want a ride?”

“We’ll follow on foot,” Ben said. Tracy got the idea, he wanted to continue their conversation in private. “And if you could put Dr. Hinton in the same house as me, I’d appreciate it. I haven’t seen my wife in quite a while and would like some alone time with her if possible.” He quirked an eyebrow at the man, while reaching over and taking her hand in his and giving it a warning squeeze. The presumption of his move made the rising pressure in her head grow to dangerous levels.

Her poor assistant squirmed visibly.

If Pedro hadn’t been beside them, she’d have made it plain how little contact—of any sort—she wanted with him. But she knew Ben well enough to know he didn’t say or do anything without a good reason.

The driver grinned and promised to see what he could do.

But, oh, she was going to let Ben know she was
not
happy with that arrangement. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know what their relationship was, and now everyone in town would be snickering behind their backs.

“Nice work,” she hissed.

Pedro shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were… I just assumed you were…”

“Single?” Ben supplied, an edge to his voice.

Wow, was he actually doing this? He’d never expressed any hint of jealousy when they’d been together. And she didn’t appreciate it now.

“No, not exactly. I just knew she didn’t have anyone living with her.”

Ben’s brows lifted. “You knew that for a fact, did you?”

“Well, yes. W-we had staff meetings at her house on a regular basis.”

Tracy took a closer look at her assistant’s face. There was discomfiture and something else lurking in his brown eyes. Oh God. Surely he wasn’t interested in her. She’d never given him any reason to think she might be remotely attracted to him.

At least, she hoped she hadn’t. And yet Ben had automatically assumed Pedro might have his eye on her. Why would he even care?

She touched Pedro’s arm. “Ben and I…well, it’s complicated.”

Complicated. It was. At least for her. And Ben had probably never forgiven her for walking away from their marriage without a word. But what could she have said, really?

Not only do I not want to get pregnant again, I might choose to have my non-cancerous breasts removed.

She could still explain, if she wanted to. But after the way he’d run roughshod over her four years ago, going behind her back and manipulating her into coming home, he’d pretty much snuffed out any feelings of guilt on her part.

Ben had been part of the reason she’d struggled with making a final decision about what to do about her test results. But now that he and the baby were no longer part of the equation, she’d put things on hold, choosing to make a difference in the lives of others instead.

Dragging her attention back to Pedro, she tried her best to finish her earlier statement. Putting more emphasis on the words than was strictly necessary, she wanted to make sure she got her point across to both of them.

“Ben and I are separated. We have been for quite some time. So anything that happens between us will be strictly business.”

Now, if she could just convince herself of that, she should be good to go.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HERE
WAS
A
reason it was called the Black Death.

There was nothing pretty or romantic about the plague. And the pneumonic form of the disease was the most dangerous, rapidly killing those it touched.

Ben stepped into the tiny house where the patients were being housed, and he fought a wave of pure desolation as he looked over the place. Tracy seemed just as shocked, standing motionless in the doorway beside her assistant.

Simple green cots were packed into what used to be a living room, laid out in two rows with barely enough space between beds for doctors to work.

Ben counted silently. Fourteen patients. And not all of them had IVs started. In fact, when he looked closer, he saw that the wall over some of the cots had a crude “X” penned in black ink.

A chill went over him. Deathbeds.

His gaze moved further and he spotted two men he assumed were doctors, still wearing that hazard gear he’d spotted earlier. The pair stood on either side of a bed, assessing a woman who was wailing, the sound coming in fits and starts that were interrupted by coughing spasms. One of the men leaned past the patient and slashed a mark over the bed.

Just like that. Bile pumped into his stomach in a flood.

Tracy’s gaze met his, her eyes reflecting pure horror. She reached out and gripped Pedro’s sleeve. “So many.”

The man nodded. “I know.”

None of the trio had on the protective clothing worn by the other doctors, other than masks and latex gloves, but as Tracy was on antibiotics and Pedro had just been given his first dose, there was no need. He assumed the heavy gear worn by the other men would be done away with pretty soon.

Besides, it was stifling in the room, the number of bodies cranking up the temperatures to unbearable levels. There wasn’t even a fan to move the air around, probably out of fear of microbes being carried outside the room. But none of these patients—even the ones without the fatal mark on the wall—would last long if they couldn’t cool it down.

Ben decided that one of his first orders of business would be to set up some kind of misting system.

Tracy moved towards him and touched his arm, pointing to the left at a nearby patient. It was a boy who Ben assumed was the one she’d been so worried about. There was a black squiggle over his bed but it was incomplete, as if someone had started to cross him off the list of the living and had then changed his mind.

“I’m going to check on Daniel and Cleo.”

Pedro made a move to follow then noticed Ben’s frown and evidently thought better of it, shifting his attention to a patient on the other side of the room instead.

Why did he care if the man had a thing for Tracy? Unlike him, the assistant seemed to have no problem with her job. He probably traveled with her every chance he got.

A steady pain thumped on either side of his head, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose in an effort to interrupt the nerve impulses.

While Tracy checked on the boy, he made his way to the suited pair across the room. He identified himself and flashed his ID card, causing one of the men’s brows to lift. “You’re the
epidemiologista
General Gutierrez sent for?”

Ben nodded. “Are you marking these beds on his orders?”

“Well, no. He won’t be here until tomorrow.” They glanced quickly at each other. “But we can’t take care of fourteen patients on our own, so we’ve been…” The words trailed away, but Ben understood. They were deciding who was worth their care and who was beyond saving.

“Well, Dr. Hinton and myself will be joining you, so let’s set up a rotating schedule. Between all of us I’m sure we can make an effort to see
all
the patients.” He let his emphasis hang in the air.

“But some of them won’t last a day.”

“And some of them might,” he countered. “Why don’t you explain to me who you’ve assessed, and we’ll divide the room into critical care and non-critical, just like you would for field triage. It’ll help us divide our efforts.”

Neither man looked happy to be challenged, but they didn’t contradict him either. If he knew General Gutierrez, the man had told them to follow his recommendations. The doctors gave him a quick rundown and Ben made a list, marking “TI”—for
tratamento intensivo
—next to those patients who were in critical condition and needed extra care. Not one “X” went next to anyone’s name.

Ben moved over to the older woman who’d cried out as the men had marked her bed and found she was indeed critical, with red staining around her mouth that signaled she was producing bloody sputum. He laid a gloved hand on her forehead and spoke softly to her, her glassy eyes coming up to meet his, even as her breath rasped in and out, breathing labored. “We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

She blinked at him, not even making an effort to speak.

Ben called out to Tracy. “I want IVs started on all the patients who don’t currently have one. We’re going to push antibiotics into them. All of them.” Then he turned to one of the men and nodded towards the radio on his hip. “Can you get me General Gutierrez? He and I need to have a little chat.”

* * *

She didn’t know what he’d done, but Ben had obviously spoken to someone in authority and asked for some changes. The cots—with the help of other soldiers—had been rearranged according to how ill each patient was. Daniel and Cleo had ended up on opposite sides of the room.

Heart aching, she moved from the boy to another patient, trying not to think about his prospects as she quickly filled a syringe from a vial of antibiotics and inserted it into the injection port of the IV line, marking the time and amounts in a small spiral-bound notebook they’d made up for each patient.

She caught Pedro’s eye from across the room and smiled.

“You doing okay?” she mouthed, receiving a thumbs-up in return. Although not a doctor, Pedro had accompanied her on many of her forays into villages and had helped enough that she knew he could hold his own in an emergency. She also trusted him enough to know he’d ask for help if something was beyond his capabilities.

Her shirt was soaked with sweat and she’d gone through masks at an alarming rate. She hoped Ben had brought a big supply. He’d mentioned setting up a rudimentary misting system to help cool off the room.

Right now, though, he was seeing to the unloading of his car, and she refused to think about where they were going to sleep tonight. Ben had said the same “house”…not the same “room” when he’d made his request. But he’d also made it plain that they were married, so she had no doubt they’d be placed together. What was he thinking? Surely he had no more desire to be with her than she had to be with him?