Captain O'Reilly's Woman - Ashes of Love 1 Read online

  “Do you need a medic, sir?” she asked, noting his insignia.

  The tall, darkly tanned officer smiled broadly, revealing even, white teeth and a really cute dimple. “Yes, actually, but not in the way you think.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Edward Ramos.”

  “Sir,” Samantha nodded perfunctorily, taking his hand.

  “Local reconnaissance unit commander,” he added by way of introduction. His smile widened as his hand closed over hers and stayed there. He seemed to be enjoying the feel of her fingers in his a little too much.

  Samantha had to tug, twice, before he released her.

  “Corporal O’Reilly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Samantha answered and glanced back at JT who was now coming down off his ladder, his brow furrowing.

  “Corporal, my unit is short a medic. We’ll be shipping out soon and...say, have you ever been to the Gulf of Mexico?”

  “N-no.”

  “Great beaches.” The Lieutenant sighed happily. “You’d love it there. Especially with the winter coming. Anyway, we’re shipping out soon and, unfortunately, like I said, my unit is short a medic.”

  Samantha nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant, but—”

  “Now don’t say no just yet,” he interrupted with a smile, and looked down at her with an interest that was close enough to lechery that Samantha took a step backward, putting some space between her and his dark, almost predatory eyes. When she did, she felt JT take a step forward. “You’ll have a lot more freedom in recon. For one thing, we don’t stick our people in vaults and make them look at clipboards all day.”

  His eyes darkened when Samantha didn’t crack a smile.

  “Look, Corporal, let me be blunt with you. My unit can’t ship out without a medic. If I wanted to, I could simply request you be transferred in. And you would be. But I don’t operate like that.”

  Why did she feel like she was being pitched by a snake-oil salesman? Oh, yeah—the guy was lying through his teeth. JT must have thought the same thing because he was now standing beside her and his voice broke over the Lieutenant’s. “This is a secure area, sir, and maybe if you need a medic, you should talk to the base commander.”

  Lieutenant Ramos turned to JT and all pretence at good-will dropped away from him. “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Private JT Winters.”

  “Private Winters. Well let me tell you, son, I also need two grunts,” Lieutenant Ramos said conversationally although his eyes were dark and cold. “We need a fellow, just like you. See we need a pencil-neck because you’d last, oh, maybe thirty seconds in a bar fight with a certifiable member of the criminal persuasion before he starts twirling one of those six-foot chains they always carry overhead and lassoes you with you. Drops you to your knees and butt-fucks you ‘til you sing soprano. So you’d be perfect in my unit, boy, because while your new-best-buddy’s buddies are mesmerized by the sight of you squealing like a bride on her wedding night and pledging your undying devotion to your new power driver, we’ll be creeping up on them and taking them out. You’d be willing to take one for the home team wouldn’t you, boy?”

  “Get out,” Samantha told him coldly and headed for the door. JT was hot on her heels.

  “Oh not so fast, darlin’. We’ve got some business to discuss and...” Without warning, Lieutenant Ramos slammed his greater weight into JT, sending him tumbling outside. He pointed at JT before he grabbed onto the door. “Now unless you want me to requisition your ass, boy, you’ll go get yourself a cup of joe and come back in five. Do we understand each other? Good.” Ramos slammed the door in JT’s face then turned the deadbolt lock. “And don’t even think of slapping that little red button, darlin’, or your friend will find himself my unit’s designated butt-monkey before the hour is out.”

  Lieutenant Ramos turned back to Samantha. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I need a medic. I want it to be you. Don’t make me call on your daddy in Michigan and tell him his oldest daughter is disobeying orders. So when we get out of here, you’re going to sign on the dotted line, and smile like a good girl when they tell you ‘Congratulations. You’re now a member of recon.’ Do we have an understanding?”

  “Assuming that’s the easy way, what’s the hard way?” Samantha asked dryly. She was more pissed than scared now. Ramos was nothing more than a bully. She didn’t like bullies. It was one of the reasons she’d joined a reclamation unit. Leaning casually against a counter and crossing her arms under her breasts, she bided her time until the cavalry arrived. One problem though, they were locked inside a secure medical vault. And, as duty medic, she had the key in her pocket.

  “Just like I said...I requisition you as an uncooperative. And when I do that, you’ll wind up with a black mark on your file so big you’ll never see sergeant.” Then he smiled. It was a calculated, charming smile but it didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I hate being harsh, Corporal,” he lied smoothly, “but life out there is harsh. Now I know you do a lot of good in here but it’s nothing compared to what you could do in recon. You’ll make a real difference in people’s lives...”

  The door to the command-office meeting room swung open so hard the wire-reinforced glass in it cracked when it hit the wall.

  “Private.” Sergeant Stevenson leapt out of his chair and closed in on JT. “Didn’t your mama—”

  JT’s eyes jumped to the head of the long, polished table and found David. He yelled one word. “Samantha.”

  David was on his feet instantly, running for the door with Doctor Stern right behind him. When the other officers around the table—every head of every division on base—hesitated, not sure if they should intrude, JT gestured and shouted at them, “Come on.” He turned and started running flat out back to the infirmary.

  “...and I did notice in your file that you’re RI,” Lieutenant Ramos continued smoothly. “Now you know that comes with some perks but did anybody actually tell you that you might have a bit of influence? That’s right. You can have a say about which communities we recon. Don’t you have some family up north? Or know some folk living in areas that need reclamation? You can help them...”

  David and JT stormed into the infirmary with Doctor Stern and the other officers hot on their heels.

  “...you and me working together could really make some good come out of this RI thing. Listen, Corporal O’Reilly...you know that’s funny. The base commander has the same last name.”

  JT ran down a corridor and grabbed the supply locker doorknob. It didn’t budge.

  “You know what’s funny? I’ve got a husband...”

  “Shh, now, Corporal. Listen, don’t you worry about him.” Ramos hadn’t even bothered looking at Samantha’s marital status when he read her file. He was used to exploiting women in un-reclaimed areas. They were one of the perks of the job. Husbands and the like didn’t matter much when you were the only thing standing between her and everyone she cared about and another twenty-one years in the dark ages.

  David shoved JT aside and leaned back to kick the door down. He could hear Samantha’s voice inside. It sounded hard, strained in a way he’d never heard before. Some man was browbeating her. He could hear everything they were saying.

  “...you’ll be safe in recon. Hell, we’d treat you like a princess. The best of everything. Regular vacations by the Gulf of Mexico...

  “Secure door,” Doctor Stern hissed beside David then handed him the key for the supply locker.

  “...now like I said, Corporal. Either you transfer in willingly or your world will get real ugly real fast.” Lieutenant Ramos’ eyes narrowed when he heard the lock open behind him. He’d been holding Samantha’s arm, squeezing until she flinched but now he shoved her away from him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re running, Corporal, but I will not give you a letter of recommendation in exchange for any offer, implied or otherwise, of...” He spun around, dropping his theatrically loud tone when he heard boots filing into the room. Looking up, he saw Captain O’R
eilly advancing on him. “Captain, this young woman...” he said in a tired, resigned voice, glancing at Samantha. But that was all he got out before he looked back and saw David’s fist heading for his gut. He doubled over. Then toppled backward when David’s upper cut caught him below the jaw. It snapped his head back and slammed him into a metal storage rack.

  “Ouch.” Lieutenant Beading, their security-division leader chuckled dryly. “Son, you should be careful about tripping over tables. Now that’s gonna leave a mark.” He grabbed Lieutenant Ramos by the scruff and dragged him clear of David’s reach.

  “Son of a bitch! You sucker-punched me,” Ramos shouted, trying to get at David.

  “Now, now...” Beading chided. By then, two more officers had their hands on Ramos and were dragging him out the door. “And that’s son of a bitch, sir. You know, I thought I’d seen some dumb in my time. I thought I knew dumb. But you—hell you’ve raised the bar, son. You’re a whole new definition of dumb. Why they oughta give you your own page in the book of dumb...”

  David didn’t pay any attention to Lieutenant Ramos’ threats and protests as he was hauled from the room. Instead, he looked around for Samantha. He spotted her standing over by the far wall where she’d scurried to get out of the way, standing behind JT and Doctor Stern who’d taken up defensive positions in front of her.

  She nudged them aside and walked straight up to him, stood in front of him and planted her hands on her hips. “Well what took you so long?” she bitched then exhaled shakily when he wove his left hand around the back of her neck and hugged her to him.

  When he raised his right hand and flexed it gingerly, Samantha sighed. “Let me take a look at it.” She glanced up when the others began filing out of the room then returned her attention to David’s hand. Blood was dripping between his fingers and the skin across one knuckle was split. The tear was deep and he’d need a couple of stitches.

  “Bastard’s got a jaw like iron,” David muttered then inhaled sharply when Samantha began gently manipulating his fingers.

  “Let’s get you in for some x-rays.”

  Doctor Stern trailed after them. After David had hopped up on an examination table, the doctor put his fingers around Samantha’s wrist to take her pulse.

  “I’m fine,” she hissed dismissively. “I’m pissed off, not hurt.”

  Stern didn’t look entirely convinced but backed off nonetheless. “All right. But you’re done for the day. I’ll finish out the rest of your shift after you finish patching him up. That all right with you, Captain?”

  David grinned. “Sure thing, doc. She’s always bragging about how good she is at this.” He tipped his head down toward Samantha. “Just remember to give me one of those sexy scars.”

  It took Samantha some time to get David patched up. Most of that had to do with her having to be far away from the x-ray machine when it was operating. He’d dislocated his middle finger and that needed to be put back in its socket. Another x-ray after that then, finally, stitches, bandaging and ice packs. Lieutenant Beading, their security-division leader, popped in and out a few times. David had him round up Ramos’ men and lock them up separately for questioning. There was no telling how deep the rot in that unit went.

  * * *

  Late that afternoon, after Samantha had cut up his meat for him, they talked about their day.

  “I had a very interesting conference call with Ramos’ last medic. At first, he had nothing to say about his time in recon. But after I told him that Ramos was in custody, he was more than happy to tell me that he’d transferred out because he couldn’t stand the way Ramos shook down communities that were accepted for reclamation.”

  “Just the ones accepted?” Samantha took a sip of her powdered milk, grimaced but kept drinking. She was looking forward to the day when that touted Vermont dairy industry, at least the local one, was back up and running.

  “Just them. Seems he was smart enough to know that, in a quid pro quo deal, you better give something back after taking what you want. Otherwise the locals would scream bloody murder to the Army. Enough complaints like that and his command would be yanked pending investigation.”

  “But these communities have nothing,” Samantha exclaimed.

  “Not exactly true, Sam. Ramos’ last medic said that his favorite things to extort were land titles, hotel-style service for him and his men in the homes of their choice. And women.”

  Samantha looked at her husband evenly. “He didn’t touch me, you know.”

  David’s expression darkened into something ugly, almost frightening. It was something Samantha had never seen in him before. That expression held only for an instant then it was gone. “I know that, Sam. You’re...too old for his taste.”

  She shuddered.

  “Anyway, the Judge Advocate General’s office will have a strong case against him. And somebody at HQ has some explaining to do. His unit has the highest transfer rate by far and nobody picked up on that. He’s been using extortion and threats for years to keep former members quiet. He had access to personnel files so he knew where their families were and who their friends are.”

  Samantha thought about JT and shuddered again. David set his fork down and lay his good hand over hers. “His ass is fried, Samantha. Did you know that secure medical areas are closed-circuit monitored 24/7?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And that every threat he made to JT and I is on tape.”

  David looked at her deliberately. “How committed are you to working in medicine?”

  Her mouth opened then she shut it slowly. “The medical corps is one of the most dangerous areas to work in. Except maybe for demolitions but then they’re all nuts anyway.” She hadn’t meant it to be funny. Samantha exhaled slowly. “I knew something was up when I realized the medic’s hummers were bulletproof. That the mobile clinics were armored. And that we keep medical supplies in bomb-proof lockers. That was before I signed up for the medic training program. I knew that medical personnel are kidnap targets. What I know,” she tapped her forehead, “what these hands can do...” She swallowed unsteadily. “There are people who will do anything for that. You run a base that makes protection of medical personnel a priority. But Doctor Stern and some of the older nurses have worked in communities where patients’ relatives pull guns or knives on them because their loved one has lived with pain for so long that they’re out of their minds. We’re a people,” Samantha continued, the intensity in her voice rising, “that put satellites in orbit and we’re now reduced to a state where, unless you live near one of the few reclaimed area in New North America and you cut your finger,” she looked at David’s bandaged hand, wrapped up comfortable and sterile and bound against his chest. “A cut on your finger can condemn you to a horrible, painful death unless somebody like me gives you a simple, cheap cocktail of antibiotics.

  “David I...I know what it means to work in the medical corps. And I want more of it, not less,” Samantha added passionately. “I’ve had so much teaching jammed down my throat in eighteen months but all I want is to know more. To be able to do more. I have that chance, David, and I am not turning my back on it.”

  He sat back slowly. Myriad aspects of David moved across his face. The husband who lived and breathed for her. The commander who needed her to step up. The father of her unborn child who needed her to step back. All aspects eclipsed, eventually, by the lover who hated her decision but allowed her to make it.

  David looked away from her for a moment, blinking. He was so composed, so completely in control of himself, yet utterly vulnerable. “All right,” he eventually whispered. He picked up his fork and resumed eating.

  Chapter Nine

  Headquarters was able to piece together just who in Ramos’ unit was part of the program and who wasn’t. Bodies came and went constantly, except for three of them—his sergeant and two corporals. Members of the town council of Montpelier, along with key players in other communities Ramos had approved for the reclamation program, were quick to point fingers as soon as
they found out Ramos was being shipped to the formerly great state of Montana where he would serve out his sentence as part of a dirty-earth clean-up crew.

  Life expectancy there was two months. Three at most.

  They thought they’d heard the last of him until, about two months after they arrived, a girl—no more than thirteen—waited in Montpelier’s brand new, permanent medical clinic for Samantha to come on duty.

  Samantha was the only female medic on base. Many of the OB/GYN cases were willing to wait for her. By now, Samantha was four months pregnant and her carefully ironed fatigues had given way to shapeless scrub tops and re-made cargo pants with elastic waistbands.

  The first thing Samantha noticed when she entered the exam room was the girl was alone. People didn’t come to clinics alone, especially during the first few months of reclamation. The brought somebody along for support, for company, and often just because they wanted to share the novelty of the experience with someone.

  “Hi...Kathleen,” Samantha greeted the girl warmly after glanced down at her chart. “How can we help you today?”

  The girl looked at Samantha’s belly then at her own. “I...I think I need help.”

  “Hmm...with what?” Samantha sat down on a stool across from the girl and shut her mouth.

  “My Dad...he’s on the town council. That’s how we met the first guys that were here. That recon unit?”

  Samantha’s back stiffened but she kept quiet and listened. The girl had waited all her life for medical care. The least she deserved now was a chance to tell her why she was here.

  “He...um...Ed? My Dad told me I had to. You know.”

  “No, I don’t know, Kathleen,” Samantha prompted gently and set her clipboard aside.

  Kathleen started chewing on one of her uneven fingernails. “My Dad told me I had to let him have, you know, sex with me. Otherwise we wouldn’t get this clinic. Only now I...I don’t feel so good sometimes and my woman’s plumbing is messed up.”