Off Limits (7 page)

Jim looked away. Her compliment took him by surprise. “I'm just a lanky hill boy from Missouri, not a very good-looking sort.”

“I think you have a wonderful face,” Alex parried softly. “Your eyes tell me how you feel. And I like it when you smile....”

Jim refused to look at Alex. “If I were worth anything at all, I'd have gotten you back to the marine firebase by now.”

“If you weren't worth anything, you'd have left me in that jungle to die or be captured.”

Rubbing his face, Jim glanced down at Alex. “You carry the faith of the world in your large heart. You know that?”

“I'm an idealist,” Alex agreed. “But then, so are you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. My father's a congressman, and he's a realist. He's always accused me—”

“A congressman?” Jim turned toward her, astounded.

Blankly, Alex studied his suddenly tense face. “Didn't I tell you Father's a congressman?”

His mouth went dry. “No.” His mind whirling, Jim knew without a doubt that all kinds of rescue missions would be sent to find Alex. It had been three days since the crash. Maybe that's why the VC activity around their tunnel had increased. The marines no doubt had sent in a recon team to try to locate Alex, or at least to investigate the crash sight.

“What's wrong, Jim?”

He shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.” Every firebase in the vicinity would be on the lookout for Alex. Getting her safely through the net of VC to the marines might be possible after all!

First things first, Jim reminded himself grimly. “I need to get some antibiotics, Alex.”

She watched as he moved to the other wall of the tunnel and retrieved his webbed belt with its numerous pouches and sheathed Ka-bar knife. “How?” Her voice sounded scratchy to her own ears, and she felt as if she were burning up.

“There's a VC camp about two miles away.” He hooked the belt around his waist and settled his dark green utility cap on his head. “I've stolen from them before. I know where they keep drugs for their in jured.”

Her eyes widening, Alex whispered, “No! You could get killed, Jim!”

Surprised at her cry, he moved to her side. “Now, listen, gal, don't worry your purty head about me. I don't intend to get caught.”

“But,” Alex cried softly, tears forming and falling down her cheeks, “what if you are?”

He stroked her wet cheek, wiping away the tears. “Now, now,” he soothed, “I'm not gonna get caught. Hush now, you just lie here and rest.”

Reaching out, Alex gripped his hand and felt his strength, his gentleness, as his long fingers wrapped around her much-smaller hand. “I don't know what you did, but it doesn't matter,” Alex whispered, her voice cracking. “You're worth saving, Jim McKenzie. You're not a bad person, do you understand that? Whatever you're running from doesn't matter to me.”

Jim smiled sadly down at Alex. “Gal, you're the kind of woman a man would be proud to keep company with. If you knew what I'd done...well, you'd tell me to leave.” He gave her fingers a last squeeze and placed her hand on her blanketed stomach. “Don't get all het up over this, Alex. I need you to rest and gather your strength. Worrying about the likes of me is a worthless cause.”

“No, it's not!” Alex felt vulnerable as never before. Perhaps it was the fever making her feel helpless. Jim's quiet and steadying presence had given her a fragile if illusory sense of safety. With him leaving, Alex felt a surge of panic.

The urge to lean over and explore her soft, trembling lower lip struck Jim full force. How clean, innocent and trusting she was. He felt dirty and guilty inside. He didn't deserve her. He patted her hand. “You'll be okay, gal.” He slowly got to his feet, favoring his left leg. He motioned to his M-14 rifle lying on the ground, its wooden stock broken. “The rifle doesn't work. If VC come around, you're gonna have to be real quiet. Understand?”

Alex nodded.

“Good.” In the semidarkness, Alex choked back a sob. As Jim limped to the tunnel entrance, she realized just how tall and lean he really was. There was a confidence that emanated from him, like a beacon of steady light in a heavy fog.

At the concealed hole, Jim halted. He turned and glanced at Alex's frightened features. The shadowy gray of her eyes tore heavily at him. “If I'm not back in four hours, gal, you wait until nightfall, then head due north. That's where the firebase sits.” He pointed to indicate the direction. “Travel only at night, and travel quiet.”

Fear ripped through Alex. The horror of Jim possibly being killed or captured overwhelmed her. “Please, don't do this, Jim. Not for me—”

“Hush,” he whispered, and one corner of his mouth lifted in the semblance of a smile. “You're worth dying for, but I don't intend to let that happen. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll throw a pebble or two into this hole so you know it's me coming back and not a VC snooping around.”

Before she could protest further, he lithely lifted himself up and out of the hole. He covered the hole with leaves and branches and was gone. Real fear ate at Alex's disintegrating control. She wanted to scream but didn't dare. Instead she lay quietly, trembling, as fever alternated with chills in her pain-racked body.

Haunted, Alex closed her eyes and spiraled into a nightmare world of the helicopter crash and the resulting fire. In the midst of the traumatic dreams, Jim McKenzie was there, protecting her, taking care of her when she felt helpless as never before. Her father appeared, yelling at her because she'd crashed and kept him waiting. Interspersed were Jim's lean features, his dark blue eyes twinkling with a smile, his face relaxed. Alex clung to that image of his face, to the innate gentleness she saw in the curve of his mouth and the way he'd touched her as he'd tried to bathe away her fever. How could someone like him be a killer? It didn't make sense...and then she capitulated to another round of nightmares involving the war that surrounded her.

* * *

Jim tossed several pebbles into the tunnel opening before moving forward on his belly. The sun was midway across the triple canopy, the light diffused. At the entrance, he froze and listened. No sound came from within the tunnel. For an instant, terror deluged Jim. He looked around to see if any of his camouflage cover had been disturbed. Dread had eaten at him all the way to and from the VC encampment. He kept picturing Alex being discovered by the enemy and dragged out of the tunnel. But the foliage appeared undisturbed.
Good.

Easing himself into the entrance, his bare feet touching the hard-packed earth below, Jim quickly glanced around the tunnel's darkened recesses. Relief shattered through him. Alex lay asleep.
Thank God.
Quickly, he replaced the cover over the hole and sank to his hands and knees. First things first: he had to wash his hands before he touched her wound.

Alex awakened when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her lashes flew open to see Jim crouched above her, a silent welcome dancing in his eyes.

“Jim!”

He managed a thin smile. “How you doin', gal?” He took the compress off her wound. The flesh was red and swollen.

“Did you run into any trouble?”

“Piece of cake.” It was a lie, but Jim didn't want to worry Alex. He laid the compress aside and brought out an amber bottle. “Take a look—sulfa,” he announced proudly, and unscrewed the cap. “Direct from Hanoi.”

Closing her eyes, Alex whispered, “I'm just glad you made it back okay.”

“I had the best reason in the world,” he teased her. “I had you to come back to. Now, don't make a sound. I'm gonna pour some of this directly on the wound. I don't know how much it might hurt.”

Alex steeled herself and refused to watch Jim. Surprisingly, there was little pain associated with the yellow powder he generously poured onto the festering flesh. He replaced the compress. There was something healing about Jim's touch, the way he cared for her.

“I had awful nightmares,” Alex admitted. Jim sat next to her after retrieving a bowl of rice. He hungrily dipped into the contents.

“About the crash?”

“No, about losing you.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

She watched him for a long moment and saw ruddiness steal into his cheeks. Warmth flooded Alex, and she sensed his terrible aloneness as never before. Over what? Too tired to pursue the topic, she asked, “Did any VC spot you?”

“No.” Jim wiped his fingers on his pant leg. He pointed to the far wall. “I managed to steal us some more rice, too. I'll make it for us late this afternoon before dark. I don't want the light from the magnesium tab to give this place away to some sharp-eyed VC. Hungry?”

Alex shook her head. “Not really. Just worried to death.”

Jim laughed softly, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he could recall in a long time. Getting to his knees, he brought the bowl to Alex. “I want you to try to eat. I know the fever's got you in its grip, but you've got to keep up your strength, gal.”

The way he cajoled her made Alex respond despite how bad she felt. “You should have been a doctor,” she muttered as he helped her sit up, then used his body as a support for her to lean against.

“You know, Ma said the same thing.” He watched Alex pick up a small bit of rice with her fingers. “She said I was good with animals. I always had some critter around the cabin that I was getting well.”

“I believe it. I'm feeling better just because you're back,” Alex admitted. The rice was tasteless, but she ate for Jim.

Having Alex tucked beneath his arm, resting against him, sent a feeling of serenity through Jim. He sighed and closed his eyes. Her feminine scent, that special womanly fragrance, reminded him of a far less harsh world and sent dizziness tracing through him.

“You keeping company with anyone?” Jim barely realized he'd asked the question. He was afraid of the answer—and disgusted at the foolishness of his asking in the first place. How could anyone as pretty as Alex, and a congressman's daughter, not be attached to some lucky man?

“Keeping company?”

He blushed and cleared his throat. “Sorry, it's my Missouri slang getting in the way. Keeping company means going steady or being engaged to some fella.”

With a muffled laugh, Alex shook her head. “Are you kidding me?” When she saw his suddenly intense gaze turn in her direction, Alex felt heat nettle her cheeks. Becoming serious, she said, “No. I used to have a boyfriend, but we parted ways a couple of months ago. What about you? The way you talk about Molly Pritchard, I thought you might be engaged or married to her.”

It was his turn to laugh softly. “No, Molly went on to marry the captain of the football team—a city fella whose pa owns a furniture store. Molly did well by herself.”

“You liked her, though.”

“Yeah,” he said wistfully, “I always had a crush on that little gal.” And then Jim glanced down at Alex. “But I was this ganglin' boy who tried to go through high school barefoot, until the principal whacked me across the rear with a ruler for not followin' the rules. Molly didn't want to be embarrassed by the likes of me.”

Her heart twinged with pain, Jim's pain. “I'd like you, shoes or no shoes.”

With a chuckle, he glanced down at his dirt-stained bare feet. “You don't have much choice, gal.”

Their laughter was soft, mingled. Alex glanced up and nearly drowned in the smoky blueness of Jim's eyes. The change in him was startling, wonderful. The urge to reach up, touch his unshaven cheek and kiss him, was overwhelming. Alex saw his eyes change and grow narrowed. Her breath snagged as she read that intent: he wanted to kiss her, too. The moment crystalized—then dissolved as the haunted expression returned to his face, conquering his need of her.

Returning her attention to the rice, Alex ate in silence. What terrible shadow loomed over Jim?

“What I don't understand,” Jim said, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness between them, “is why you don't have a man.”

“Mostly because of my schooling, Jim. I have a straight-A average—my father wouldn't settle for anything less.” She gave him a wry look. “A congressman's daughter has to be the best at everything, didn't you know?”

He heard the sarcasm in her voice. “Has it always been like that for you? Those kinds of expectations and pressures?”

“Sure. Case and Buck got straight A's without ever cracking a book. Me? I have to study my head off night and day to make those grades. Mother says I have her genes. She struggled through school, too.”

“This nursing, is it what you want to do?”

Alex nodded. “More than anything in the world. I'm a lot like my mother, I guess. She had dreams of being a nurse, too, but she married my father when she was eighteen, so she never got the chance. In some ways, I'm following her dream.”

“I bet you'll make a fine nurse.”

“If I can get past my reaction to blood,” Alex said wryly. She finished the last of the rice and handed the bowl back to him. Jim helped her lie back down and tucked the blanket around her.

Busying himself with the heating tab and making more rice for them, Jim said, “A nurse who can't stand the sight of blood? What will you do about it?”

“There are lots of different kinds of nursing, Jim. One area that really intrigues me is psychology. I've chosen to go into psychiatric nursing.”

“Oh, the shrinks,” he teased.

“I know our society thinks psychology is for crazy people, but they're wrong. There are a lot of reasons why humans react the way they do to certain stresses, certain situations.”

“No argument from me,” he said as he held the canteen cup over the lighted magnesium tab to heat the water. The odor from the tab stung his nostrils, and he moved as far away as he could. It was a stringent, stinging odor. The smell of the magnesium could bring VC to the tunnel; it was a risk to do this.