Forged in Steele k-7, Page 2

  Steele sent Renshaw a quelling look that instantly silenced his teammate. If the damn girl hadn’t thrown herself in front of a bullet for an asshole who didn’t give a shit about her, they wouldn’t even be stopping in to see Dr. Scofield. And now he had Baker to worry about.

  He glanced back at his teammate to see Baker shaking his head, blood sliding down his cheek and onto the ground. He was still trying to get his bearings, obviously, but from what Steele could see, it didn’t look serious. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a concussion or a possible injury that Steele couldn’t see, but he was going to remain optimistic that it was just a few cuts and scrapes and nothing that would require downtime.

  Steele had had enough downtime for a lifetime. He was ready to be back in action, preferably with his team at full strength.

  They burst through a patch of dense foliage and into a clearing where the helicopter waited. P.J. and Cole were already there. P.J. was wearing a scowl and Cole was grinning. He did that a lot around P.J. now. Where before he’d attempted to maintain strict professionalism between them at all times, now that he’d convinced P.J. to marry him, Cole had dropped any semblance of keeping emotional distance from her during missions. A fact that P.J. still wasn’t taking well.

  Steele bit back a smile, knowing if his team saw it, they’d think he’d lost his mind. If nothing else, P.J. and Cole provided plenty of comic relief in otherwise tense situations.

  “Let’s load and go,” Cole called. “This bitch is ready to get into the air.”

  “I’ll radio the jet pilot, tell him we’ll be delayed. We can land the chopper close to Maren’s village,” Renshaw said as they approached the others.

  Steele nodded.

  “What the fuck happened to you, Baker?” P.J. demanded.

  “Explosives,” Baker muttered as he palmed one ear and pushed like he was trying to dislodge something.

  “That’ll do it,” P.J. said.

  Dolphin went ahead carrying the girl and P.J.’s eyes widened. “Do I even want to know?”

  “No,” Steele said tersely. “Load up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  CHAPTER 2

  MAREN Scofield patted the child on the arm after applying gauze over the site where she’d drawn blood and offered a reassuring smile. She nodded when the parents offered their gratitude and gave them instructions to continue her care at home.

  When they finally departed the clinic, Maren stretched her aching back and sighed. It had been a long day that had begun at dawn when her first patient had knocked on the door of her cottage. The locals knew where to find her if she wasn’t in her clinic, and none hesitated to seek her out for all manner of illnesses or injuries.

  A worker had broken his arm and had come to her cottage. And so her day had begun. A steady stream of patients that had only finally dwindled when the sun had begun to set.

  She trudged toward the doorway, eager to make the short walk back to her home, fix herself a hot cup of tea and put her feet up for a while. After making sure the exam rooms and the room containing her portable X-ray and the other expensive supplies were locked—not that it would truly do any good if someone wanted to break in and steal them—she prepared to leave for the day.

  And it had happened in the past. She’d had equipment stolen, her clinic trashed. Twice. Thankfully her parents and her brother were supportive of her efforts, and they’d arranged for the donation of new equipment both times.

  But then they were all doctors too. They understood her calling. Her drive to provide medical care for underprivileged people in need. Her own parents had traveled all over the world before having her and her brother. For the first few years of her childhood, her parents had opted to live stateside and practice medicine. But when she and Kevin, her older brother, had gotten past the toddler stage, her parents had packed them up and had set off to far-flung places once again to donate their time and services to those in need.

  Her childhood had been colorful and never dull.

  Nowadays her parents were retired and living in Florida, enjoying shopping and golf. They made the trip to Costa Rica once a year to visit, and she tried to make it to Florida once or twice. They Skyped regularly and emailed weekly. Her brother was currently on assignment in Saudi Arabia. It had been a year since she’d seen him and she missed him.

  They were only two years apart and had always been close. Throughout their childhood, they’d never remained in any one place long enough to put down roots and develop close friendships, so they’d bonded and been each other’s best friend.

  After her cup of tea she was going to email Kevin and her parents. Maybe it was fatigue or just her present mood, but she was feeling homesick. Some rest and reaching out to her family would fix her up in no time.

  As she opened the door to leave the clinic, a dark shape loomed in front of her. She immediately stepped back, her breath in her throat, and her pulse ratcheted up about thirty beats per minute. She started to slam the door, even knowing it was poor protection and would offer no resistance to someone wanting in.

  A booted foot shot out, blocking the door.

  Panic ripped through her gut and she backed instinctively farther, searching the immediate area for a weapon, something she could use to defend herself.

  A tall, barrel-chested man stepped inside, his hands up in a pacifying manner.

  “Señorita, I mean you no harm. I come to speak to you on behalf of Javier Mendoza.”

  Maren’s eyes narrowed, and she took a cautious step backward. Javier Mendoza was shady at best. The locals feared him but never dared showed him disrespect. He was catered to, appeased and otherwise pacified by everyone, including La Fuerza Pública, the police.

  There was only overheard gossip and speculation to fuel her apprehension. When his name was mentioned, it was always in whispered tones as if the people speaking feared that he might appear from thin air.

  Maren didn’t know specifics about the man, but she knew enough to decide that if he’d sent a man at this time of night, it couldn’t be good.

  “I’m leaving the clinic for the night,” she said, adopting a brisk, professional tone. “It’s been a long day and I’m closed until the morning.”

  The man smiled, although it did nothing to ease her worry.

  “It’s not a medical matter, señorita. Señor Mendoza would like to invite you to his home for dinner. He knows you’ve worked long hours today and wishes you to partake of his hospitality.”

  Though his speech was accented, his English was impeccable. Each word carefully rendered. He looked like a thug but spoke like a complete gentleman. He gave her the absolute creeps.

  “Please convey my apologies to Señor Mendoza,” she said smoothly, allowing none of her fear to slide into her voice. “I appreciate his kind invitation, but I’m very tired and would like only to return to my home so that I can rest. My day begins quite early, and as you can see, it’s gone quite late today.”

  The errand boy, or rather errand hulk, didn’t look pleased by her refusal, so she quickly added, “Perhaps another time.”

  Not that she had any intention in hell of ever honoring that particular offer. But if it would get the smooth-talking Neanderthal out of her clinic so she could go home, she’d say darn near anything.

  His lips tightened but to her relief, he began to retreat. At the door, he turned, his gaze finding hers.

  “I will inform Señor Mendoza of your refusal.”

  Maren went still at the implied threat. Ice trickled into her veins and her respiration increased. She stood frozen as the man disappeared into the night, leaving her alone in the now-silent clinic.

  It took her a long moment to recover and get over her paralysis. She walked haltingly to the doorway and stepped outside, glancing nervously left and right, almost as if she expected Mendoza to materialize just as she’d thought the locals did when speaking his name.

  She shook her head as she locked up. She was turning into a complete ninny. She’d been i
n far scarier situations. Africa to name one. Thanks to Sam Kelly and KGI, she’d escaped unscathed, for which her parents and brother were extremely grateful. They’d been largely responsible for her not going back there again. They’d begged her to pick a safer place.

  Now she wondered just how much safer Costa Rica was for her.

  With a sigh, she began the short walk down the pathway to her cottage, rolling her neck and shoulders to ease the knots in her muscles. The evening air was sultry, damp in her nostrils but filled with the scent of flowers. They bloomed like crazy around the clinic and her cottage, courtesy of the locals who’d adopted her and helped with the upkeep.

  She smiled, remembering the women bringing by food for her. Men stopping by to ask if she needed repairs. Many of her patients didn’t have money to pay for her services, not that she’d accept, but they looked for other ways to repay her. They’d accepted her. She was well liked and respected. And until tonight she wouldn’t have thought she had anything to fear.

  Mendoza had never paid her an ounce of attention, and she’d been here for four years. What had changed? She would never believe she’d simply escaped his notice until now. He was a man who had his thumb on the pulse of the entire area. He’d likely know everyone and know everything that went on anywhere close to where he resided and did business. Whatever that business was . . .

  She shook her head again as she let herself into the tiny house. She closed the door and locked it, ruefully acknowledging, again, that if anyone truly wanted access, her locking the door would hardly matter. But it offered her at least a sense of security.

  The cottage was cluttered. She was hardly a neat freak. In fact, she was rather absentminded about nonimportant things. In her work, she was focused. Other things, not so much.

  Her home was small, but it looked lived in, and during the day, sunshine filled the many windows, giving the rooms a cheerful glow. Her plants thrived, though she was clueless as to how they managed to survive her inattention.

  She removed her glasses and dropped her stethoscope on the coffee table, setting her glasses carefully beside it. Then she shuffled into the kitchen to put water on to boil for her tea. She needed to eat, but nothing appealed and the thought of having to prepare anything was more than she could deal with at the moment.

  Tea and crackers. It was a perfect filler, and then she’d have an early night and get some much-needed rest.

  * * *

  MAREN came awake with a start, her mind muggy. Confusion clouded her mind as she stared around, her brow furrowing as she sought to place herself. Glancing at the coffee table, she saw her half-full cup of tea and the box of crackers she’d barely eaten from.

  She’d dozed off not long after she’d sunk into the couch. She hadn’t even finished her tea.

  Another knock sounded at her door, and her head whipped in that direction as understanding dawned. Someone was there, and the knock was what had awakened her from her deep sleep.

  She groped for her glasses, shoved them on and then glanced at her watch. She frowned as nervousness gripped her. It was nearly midnight.

  She pushed herself upward, collecting her wits as she headed toward the door. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for her to be dragged out of bed for a medical emergency, but tonight she was on edge after the unexpected visit and invitation, courtesy of Javier Mendoza.

  Wiping her palms over her face to rid herself of the veil of sleep, she cautiously opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  “Dr. Scofield?”

  She blinked in surprise as she processed the shadowy form filling her doorway. She knew that voice. Not that she’d often had occasion to hear it because the man rarely spoke. But it was a sound imprinted on her brain.

  “Steele,” she murmured.

  Then she swung open the door and stepped outside, glancing around for others. There were always others when it came to KGI. She’d patched up numerous members of the elite private ops group over the years, but that was okay. It was thanks to them that she was alive and still practicing medicine.

  “We have a situation,” Steele said, bringing her sharply to attention.

  “Of course.”

  He paused a moment and she could swear he cocked his head at her, but it was too dark for her to make out his features.

  “We have a young woman we retrieved. She’s injured. Baker’s also injured. Not sure of extent. He tangled with some explosives.”

  “That’ll do it,” she muttered.

  “Can you look them over?” he asked in an impatient voice.

  She could swear her very presence offended him. Every time they’d ever come into contact, he’d acted as if she didn’t exist. In fact, this was the first time he’d ever addressed her directly. All the times she’d seen him before, he’d always been with the Kellys, and Sam or Garrett always did all the talking.

  It was a shame too, because the man fascinated her. Maybe it was because he was so standoffish. Maybe that intrigued her all the more.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you at the clinic,” Maren said.

  And then Steele was gone, melting away into the night, leaving her standing in her doorway slightly baffled by the whole encounter. Shaking her head, she turned and walked back into her cottage to get her stethoscope and the rest of her tea. She could nuke it at the clinic. She was going to need it. It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 3

  IT didn’t surprise Maren in the least when she walked into her clinic to find members of Steele’s team sprawled everywhere. P.J. and Cole were sitting in the small “waiting” area, rifles between their knees, barrels pointed toward the ceiling. Cole offered Maren a warm smile and P.J. called out a soft hello.

  “It’s so good to see you, P.J.,” Maren said sincerely.

  Brief shadows floated through P.J.’s eyes even though she returned Maren’s warm greeting, but Maren didn’t push the subject any further. She greeted the others and continued past the waiting room down the hall where the small exam rooms were situated.

  In the first room, she saw Baker bending over the sink while Renshaw helped by handing him towels to scrub the blood from his face.

  “Leave it,” Maren called from the doorway. “Better to have me take a look before you aggravate it further.”

  Baker turned around with a grimace and she winced at the already swollen purpling of his jaw, his chin and both eyes. She whistled softly. “You don’t mess around when it comes to blowing stuff up, do you?”

  Renshaw chuckled and slapped Baker on the shoulder. “Bet he won’t make that same mistake again.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Baker muttered.

  Then he looked up at Maren. “Check out the girl first. I’m fine.”

  Maren nodded and then walked down to the next room. As she peered around the corner of the doorway, she saw Dolphin consoling a quietly sobbing young woman while Steele stood at the head of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl set into his features like stone. Maren could well understand why the girl was so upset. Steele wasn’t helping matters any. She likely thought she’d hopped right from the frying pan and into the fire when KGI rescued her. If she even thought at this point she had been rescued.

  Yep, Steele was in typical form. What she wouldn’t give to shake him up. Just once. She wondered if anything ever ruffled him. Caught him off guard. Or surprised him.

  She’d heard some of the details of P.J.’s ordeal from Sam, and P.J.’s subsequent walkabout from the team and the fact that Steele and the others hadn’t taken it very well. Sam had hinted that Steele had displayed uncharacteristic emotion. That, she’d pay money to see.

  She took in a deep breath at the precise moment Steele looked up and saw her. His blue eyes cut into her, piercing deep, making her feel suddenly bare and vulnerable. Almost like he could see right inside her. It was a stupid thought and it was even dumber to attribute superhuman powers to this man. He was only human. Fallible. But damn if he didn’t make a strong argument for invin
cible. Regardless of what he was or wasn’t, he absolutely sold it with every look, every nonword. Every action.

  All her breath slipped out in a long exhale, her shoulders sagging as she deflated underneath his gaze.

  Pulling herself together, she headed to the bed, pulling out her penlight from her lab coat pocket.

  “What happened?” she asked briskly.

  The girl looked nervously at Maren and shrank further against the pillow. She was trembling from head to toe and Maren’s heart softened. Poor thing was scared out of her mind.

  She patted the girl’s hand and squeezed. “You’ll be all right now. Promise. They may look scary, but they’re the good guys. They’ll get you back home where you belong.”

  “I didn’t want to leave Matteo,” she said with a sniff. “They made me.”

  Steele’s scowl deepened and Dolphin sighed.

  “She tried to step in front of a bullet meant for someone else,” Dolphin muttered.

  “That’ll do it too,” Maren said wryly.

  As her gaze flicked up to Steele, she could swear there was a tiny twitch at one corner of his mouth. Almost as if the man had actually been about to smile. It was such an absurd thought that she immediately put it down to her imagination and turned her focus on her patient.

  “Just winged her,” Dolphin continued. “But she dropped like a stone. Dead faint. She only just came around.”

  “Why don’t you gentlemen leave me alone with her so I can check her over. You aren’t helping matters by hovering over her looking like ax murderers.”

  Dolphin shrugged and Steele looked reluctant until Maren turned and engaged in a staredown with him. Finally he broke and he and Dolphin retreated, though they stood just outside the doorway.

  “Now,” Maren said, turning back to the girl. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Christina,” she said in a wavering voice.

  “I’m going to check you over and make sure everything is okay.”