As the former medical officer for A-Tac, an elite CIA unit masquerading as faculty at an Ivy League college, Lara Prescott saved many lives. But the memory of the one person she couldn't save has brought her back into harm's way-and into the sights of a formidable adversary . . . NOWHERE IS SAFE Lara thought working a world away would heal her. Yet volunteering to treat the sick and injured in revolution-torn central Africa can't stop the shattering memories of losing the man she loved. A night with sexy security officer Rafe Winters seems the perfect temporary escape -- until insurgents attack her clinic and Rafe becomes her only way to survive . . . Rafe knows all too well that this beautiful young doctor is the insurgents' real target: Her knowledge of America's espionage system makes her a valuable prize. Helping her flee jeopardizes his hidden agenda-but her unexpected trust in him sparks a desire to protect her that he can't ignore. Now as their merciless pursuers close in, Rafe and Lara's only chance for escape will put everything they've sworn to protect-and their newfound love-on the line . . .
Release date:
July 1, 2011
Publisher:
Forever
Print pages:
111
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Central Africa
“I need more blood. Now.” Lara Prescott pushed back her hair, wishing for instant transport to the high-tech sterile environment
of a modern operating theater. Instead, she stood in a cinder block building in the middle of the African rain forest, trying
to keep a kid alive with outdated instruments and a critical lack of supplies.
“This is the last of it,” Kim Milongo said, hanging the bag as Lara struggled to stop the internal bleeding. The child on
the table was all of seven or eight, although malnutrition made her look much younger. She had fallen from a tree, an injury
that in a healthy child would never have been life threatening. But on a continent where one out of every eight children died
before their fifth birthday, any injury had the potential to become life threatening.
The fall had shattered the right femur, a fragment of bone nicking the femoral artery. With the proper instrumentation, she
could have easily located the tear and repaired it. But here, she was working from touch on a child with a compromised immune
system. Bottom line—the little girl was bleeding out.
“We’re losing her,” Kim said, the frustration in his voice mirroring Lara’s own. Kim was an old friend from medical school.
A native African, he’d brought his skills back to his people and set up the clinic. He’d been the one to suggest that Lara
come here after Jason’s death. “Her BP’s dropping fast.”
Lara continued to work, knowing that she’d run out of time but unwilling to give up. The little girl had so much life ahead
of her. To lose her to a fall was a crime. The pulsing blood slowed and then stopped, life ebbing away without even a whisper.
“Damn it,” she said, turning her back, tears welling. For every one they managed to save, they lost two more. And if they
didn’t lose the child, war and disease often claimed their parents, leaving the children even more exposed. It was a relentless
cycle.
“You did everything you could.” Kim’s voice was gentle, his tone belying his stature. “You always do. There just wasn’t enough
time.”
*****
The little bar was more of a watering hole than anything else. They served beer and rotgut whiskey, and sometimes, when the
trucks were coming from the east and not the west, a little Russian vodka. Not that it mattered. All that was needed was something
to numb the brain, to erase, for a moment at least, the memory of pleading eyes in dying faces.
Lara had come to Africa to forget. And now she’d come here to forget Africa.
“Hit me again,” she said, tapping the glass in front of her. The barman, a German who’d come to save souls but made better
money inebriating them, poured another round. She downed it in one swallow, relishing the burning sensation against her throat,
a reminder that she was still alive.
It had been almost a year since she’d come to Africa. Since she’d lost Jason.
The decision to leave A-Tac hadn’t been an easy one. She had roots there. Friends. But in the end, it had just been too painful.
And so when Kim had offered her the chance to come help with the clinic, she’d jumped at it. After years of fighting the dark
side, she’d thought it would be cathartic to save lives. Instead, she’d wound up fighting an even darker foe: Poverty. Along
with a good measure of war and pestilence.
Maybe she was just meant for the front lines. It was hard to say. But at least here, there weren’t constant reminders of all
that she’d lost. “Another, please.” She signaled the barman and then leaned her chin against her hands, elbows propped up
on the bar.
“Seems a shame for a woman who looks like you to be drinking all alone.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning her patience. She wasn’t in the mood for Rafe Winters. The Aussie might be the
only thing standing between the clinic and local rebel forces, but he was also a shameless womanizer, and she was bound and
determined not to become a conquest.
Not that the idea wasn’t appealing on some base level. He was easy enough to look at—strong jaw and rich black hair that curled
somewhat wildly around his ears and neck. Well-muscled and tall, like Kim, he towered over her. But she was used to that.
At five foot three, pretty much everyone was taller than she was. And if Lara were honest, it was his eyes that were most
attractive. Deep blue, they were almost black, like a night sky. And there was a spark of intelligence that challenged—and
annoyed.
He was too sure of himself, and definitely too battle hardened to be truly appealing. She’d known men like him most of her
adult life. Adrenaline junkies. It had gotten Jason killed. And she wasn’t about to let herself go there again.
“So what’s got you hitting the bottle? You’re usually a two-drink-limit kind of girl.” His lilting accent was tempered from
a life lived at various locales around the world.
She patted the seat next to her and offered a wan smile. She might not be willing to allow herself to fall for his charms,
but this place was sorely lacking in social opportunities. And as drinking partners went, Rafe beat the barman. Gustav wasn’t
exactly a conversationalist.
“So what’s with the whiskey?” He nodded as Gustav produced a second glass and filled them both.
“Lost a patient today.” Lara took a sip of the fiery liquid, reminding herself that she had to keep up her guard.
“Not to make light of it, but that’s hardly an isolated incident here.”
“Yes, but this one was just a kid. And she’d only broken a leg. But with our ancient equipment, I couldn’t save her. Anywhere
else in the world and it would have been a cakewalk.”
“But this isn’t anywhere else,” he said, his dark eyes probing. “And you’re not any doctor. I’ve seen you at work, and I know
that you always give it your best. Sometimes you’re just not going to win the day.”
“That’s what Kim said”—Lara shrugged and took another sip—“more or less. But it doesn’t help. The child is still dead. And
at least indirectly it was my fault.”
“So you’re here to wallow?”
“I don’t wallow,” she snapped, her anger quick to surface.
“Now there’s the Lara I know and love.” His smile was warm and inclusive, as if they shared something more than a grudging
friendship. For just a moment, she allowed herself the memory of how good that could feel, but before she let the thought
go further, she shut it off.
“Don’t pretend that you know me, Rafe. You don’t.”
“I know that you’re a damn good doctor. And that Kim is lucky to have you at the clinic. And I know that you’re carrying around
some pretty serious shit, including the death of the man you loved and your subsequent leave of absence from the CIA.”
Her head jerked up, her eyes wary. “How the hell did you know that?”
“I’ve been in this business a long ti. . .
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