Blackout

Chapter 10

Imaia Island

Max

Present

“Muchacho del demonio…” I cursed the boy while I shook my head, watching the dusty road and the palm trees at the side of the street. Any other day I would have enjoyed the tropical view of palm trees, an open ocean and clear beaches, but that morning I was too worried about my patient to see much. How the hell had he been able to escape? The morning shift hadn’t seen him leave and the nurse who should have been treating him couldn’t understand how he had been able to leave her care. Nurses were supposed to stay in the same hall and keep an eye on them. It was impossible not to see the patients, which suggested he had either jumped out of a window or escaped through the bathroom back door. If he wasn’t already shot I could have shot him again for daring to leave like that. There was nothing I hated more than a patient that couldn’t care about his own health. He had been shot for God’s sake! I counted about three possible types of infections that have had enough time to infect his bloodstream by then.

“We will find the boy,” said Callan, managing to calm my fried nerves and get me back to the present. There was some calming quality about listening to his deep timbre. He could be saying “we are crashing” with that same tone and nobody would even freak out. Callan was driving the gigantic humvee with an ease that spoke volumes about his dexterity as a driver. My eyes focused on his powerful, tanned hand which was holding the steering wheel with ease. God, I hated his forearms. Why did he have such powerful forearms? All muscular, and cordoned and perfectly manly. I swallowed, clenching my jaw and looking away from him, to the dusty road ahead of us.

“Of course we will, and when we do I will personally twist his ears so hard that his ancestors will squirm in their tombs,” I said, actually meaning it, but Callan only stared at me in amusement.

“Last time I checked you were a surgeon, Dr. Cruz. I can’t imagine your patients feeling comfortable when you threaten them like that,” he was taunting me. And he was good. I was too angry and too temperamental, never a good mix. I felt my nostrils flare in anger when I turned in my seat, staring at him with my arms crossed over my chest.

“Last time I checked you didn’t talk much and were good at minding your own business,” I fought back and this time Callan’s lips twitched, almost as if he was fighting a smile. What was that? Did he find this entire situation amusing? Was I entertaining? I rolled my eyes at him, glaring at his stupidly handsome profile, “After this entire situation is over let’s ignore each other, should we? If I see you down the hall I will walk in another direction and I suggest you do the same.”

“What if there are no other directions?” he asked me, face contrite but eyes full of mischief. I narrowed my eyes and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Are you trying to be a smartass?”

“Am I succeeding?” he asked, eyes focused on the road while he moved the huge steering wheel with an easy turn of his wrist.

“Does it matter?” I retorted, frowning at the sight and staring out of the window.

The car turned easily and we started heading to a more secluded area, away from the coast line. Far away I could see a lonelier road lined by thin pine trees. I looked around but had no idea where the hell we were going. Used to always checking my GPS for locations I took my phone out of my jean’s pockets and proceeded to curse when I realized I had no internet.

“Relax, we are heading north. The nearest village is only ten kilometers away,” I glanced up at Callan and sure enough he was already staring at me. His eyes looked more green than gray today and to my utter dismay they were focused on my lips. I started blushing fast and looked away, trying to think about important things, substantially important things like the fact a patient of mine was out and loose, probably sick.

“How much is ten kilometers in miles?” I asked out of the blue because I was nervous about my patient and I was never nervous. Not even in school I’d been nervous the first time I’ve held a scalpel. I felt centered once I had my patients right in front of me and I knew how I could help them, but knowing they were out there, possibly scared and sick got me anxious. Callan surprised me by squinting at the road and giving me an answer right away.

“Six miles, which we might make in ten minutes,” he looked back at me, again staring at my lips and then back to my eyes. I gulped my own saliva, feeling my throat dry. Callan watched me swallow, studying my throat attentively and then speaking slowly, his eyes still focused on my side view, “There are about 1.6 kilometers in a mile. If you are lost and need to calculate a distance just multiply your estimated location distance to 1.6 and that will give you a good estimate.”

“That’s a good trick, thank you,” I said, looking away from him and feeling strangely comforted. He was good at this, I realized. Callan had this extra sense to know exactly what he needed to say and in what way, to calm people around him. It was a good attribute to have in his line of work. I crossed my arms again, looking at the road ahead of us, “And by the way I know s**t about how to direct myself. I can’t tell the difference between North and South.”

At that he laughed, that same masculine honest smile that made my belly vibrate at the resonance of his deep timbre. I took a look at his profile and sure enough my toes curled inside of my boots when I checked his cordoned neck and the way his Adam’s apple moved magnifying his masculinity. I sighed and shook my head at him.

“I’m serious,” I said, “I hate it when people give me directions and say s**t like head north and then go to the east...whatever Lewis and Clark. Just give me landmarks and I will find the damn place. Real directions like go to the Starbucks in that corner and then drive straight to the big movie theater.”

“How the hell do you go places then?” he asked me, genuinely interested and I pointed at my good for nothing phone.

“I check my GPS,” I answered with a frown because it was the most logical answer in the world. Callan narrowed his eyes at the thin phone over my lap and then shook his head at me as if I’d been caught stealing a jar of cookies or kicking a puppy.

“What would you do if you run out of battery or if your phone it’s broken? You can’t solely rely on technology to know where the hell you are going,” I opened my mouth and closed it. Why did I feel he had a point there? Why did I feel I needed to fight him regardless of whatever good point he was making? I took a moment, organized my defense and then smirked.

“Fine, let’s say I don’t have a phone and that for whatever impossible reason I’m lost in the middle of nowhere and try to orientate myself using the sun but it’s cloudy and I can’t tell where I am standing,” I pointedly opened my eyes at him, “what good is going to make me knowing directions then?”

“You can always wait until it’s darker and direct yourself using the stars,” he rebuked and I narrowed my eyes on him. Of course he knew how to orientate himself using the stars too. I shook my head, staring out of the window.

“Trust me, my GPS has never disappointed me,” I fought back and Callan took the opportunity to crack his neck and roll his shoulders back. As I’ve figured he seemed to hate staying still for too long. I could tell by all his little mannerisms and the way he kept analyzing the terrain ahead of us as if searching for possible threats.

“We can’t have that,” he said at once, “I will teach you how to guide yourself. It’s a good tool to have in case you are ever lost. You are too damn gorgeous to ask directions to strangers. It’s better if you don’t depend on anyone to know where you are going.”

I blushed at the compliment and then looked back at him. Just to annoy him I told him with a smile, “you do realize that I ask for strangers to drive me to places whenever I schedule an Uber, right?”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel and he grew too quiet. I stopped smiling when I realized his face had darkened in a grave expression. His jaw was clenched and his eyes- which had been more green than gray-were now riveted by dark irises.

“Hey, what is wrong?” I asked him and he shook his head once, staring at the road and keeping his silence. I frowned and was about to ask him if I’d insulted him somehow when I caught sight of some movement by our peripherals. By the end of the line of trees I could see the outline of some wooden houses that had been built years ago, judging by the old, darkened wood and dry roofs made out of palm thatch. They looked welcoming, like some of those tiki huts that I’ve seen down in Miami Beach. Now, those had been built only for recreational purposes but those ahead of us were actual houses, sporting several bedrooms and adjacent gardens where they stocked pigs and chickens.

Callan stopped by one of the houses down the main road and asked the man barbecuing in the front of his backyard for the boy we were looking for. The village was a crazy scenery of impossibles. There were animals and people everywhere and nobody seemed to follow any traffic rules. You could see a goat, a man on a bicycle and kids playing on the same street and moving in the same direction, at the same time. I had no idea how these people had survived all this time without proper civic order.

The man barbecuing pointed at the end of the road and then motioned with his hand for us to turn right. He was thin and had several teeth missing but his eyes were kind enough for me to trust him. At the end he even offered us some food that Callan politely declined with a wave of his big hand and a shake of his head. Then we were back on the move. It took us ten minutes to reach the correct address. At the end we stopped by a small house at the end of the main road. The place looked unkempt and too small. It reeked like staggered water and a bad plumbing system.

“Stay in the car,” ordered Callan the moment he turned off the engine and his voice held a powerful cadence, one that didn’t allow any objections. I opened my mouth to protest and to my surprise Callan lifted a hand and caressed my cheek, managing to render me mute and still. His fingers were exactly all I ever liked about a man’s hand. Warm, powerful and calloused. Callan looked me in the eyes while his thumb lined the contour of my cheeks, “Don’t fight me on this, firecracker. It’s safer this way. Wait for me to return and only leave the car if I say so. Do you understand?”

“Why did you have to ask for a confirmation?” I asked cheekily and Callan’s eyes shined amused.

“It’s standard procedure in the military. We always want to make sure our charge understands the gravity of the situation,” one last caress and he was on the move, “Now, lock the doors and wait for me.”

“Sir, yes sir,” I smiled, giving a salute for a good laugh but to my surprise Callan paused on his way out and looked at my mouth hungrily. Our eyes met and while other men would have looked away, Callan didn’t. He stared back at me, letting me know exactly what he was thinking.

Yeah, if I went ahead and asked right then and there if he still wanted to take me to bed I was sure his answer would be the same he had given me back at Maruchi’s three months ago. I could tell even if he didn’t say a word that he wanted me. It was written all over his gray eyes and the way he was staring at me, as if he was imagining all the things he could be doing to my body...which was hot, damn hot.

At the end he clenched his jaw and walked away silently, making sure to check the street and analyze every single face on his way. For a moment I tried to imagine what Callan was seeing in the passersby while he studied everyone and everything with a frown. Then I accepted the fact I would never understand the mind of a military man and gave up.

I checked the screen of my phone just to be sure we didn’t lose track of our time outside of the camp. It was still early in the morning but it would take us a long time to return to the base. I really hoped we could find the boy soon and minimize the chances that he could contract an infection. It was about then when Callan reached the house and knocked at the wooden door. The door was opened from the inside but I was too far away to see who was the one meeting Callan. At the end he walked inside the house, his long, muscular shoulders forcing him to move sideways and bent a little to not bump his head on the doorframe. The door closed behind him with a strong thud.

I frowned checking the time again. Five minutes passed and still no sign of Callan or the boy. Then I heard it. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the entire village sending everyone into a frenzy. People started running and screaming, trying to reach safety fast. I cursed under my breath and jumped out of the car. The gunshot sound had come from the house where Callan had walked into. I was not waiting with my thumb on my butt for him to go back when I could help him if there was an emergency. I was moving out of the car before I could even process what I was doing.

With a kick I opened the door of the house ajar and ran fast inside. I gasped when a hand closed hard on my ponytail and pulled me back to the wall behind me. Then I felt the cold, familiar touch of a gun against my head and heard the distinctive click of the firearm being readied to shoot.

Aww s**t.