Rachel’s brows furrowed. She clearly wasn’t a woman who accepted anything at face value. “Is that scientific fact or personal opinion?”

“Experience.”

“How long you been out here?”

“This time? A little over a year. The first time about the same.”

“That sounds…hard.”

“I joined the Navy. I knew what that meant.”

“Did you,” Rachel said softly. She cut her gaze to the camp and the jungle beyond. “How could you possibly? How could anyone?”

Max said nothing. She had no answer, and Rachel wasn’t really talking to her. She was trying to make sense of a senseless situation. She’d learn not to soon enough.

Rachel turned back. “The helicopters—you’re sure they’re coming back?”

“Yes.”

“Can you call them or something?” Her eyes brightened. “We have a satellite connection—maybe we can call headquarters in Mogadishu? If they know what happened—”

“They know,” Max said. “The people who need to know already know, and they’re not in Mog. They’re at Lemonnier.”

“Is that where you came from?”

“Yes.” Max scanned the jungle, dense and green and impenetrable. An ancient force onto itself, neither friend nor enemy. “The rebels were a lot closer than we expected. I’d rather not try radio contact now until we’re sure they’re not still out there. No point putting a big sign over our heads.”

“How far are we from your base?”

“A few hours’ flying time. They’ll contact us if they can when they’re back in range.” Or they’d just materialize out of the dark, troops and birds dropping from the sky like something out of myth, or nightmare.

“When will they be back?”

Max debated how much to say. She needed to keep the civilians from panicking. Rachel and Amina had handled themselves better than most in the midst of the crisis, but the danger was far from over.

“Don’t sugarcoat it,” Rachel said briskly. “We have a right to know what we’re facing.”

“My guess is not before sundown, at the earliest. The birds are made for night maneuvers, and it’ll take a while for command to sort out what happened here and why. This was supposed to be straightforward in and out.” She didn’t want to say it might not be sundown tonight. If a large rebel contingent with surface-to-air rockets or a stockpile of RPGs had located in the area, the birds might not be able to land. If an extraction team had to infiltrate on foot, it would take a day or two. At best.

Rachel grimaced. “Someone’s intelligence was faulty.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The rebels could’ve hit here purely at random, and it was just a coincidence that we arrived at the same time.”

“I don’t know about you, but I find that coincidence a stretch.” Rachel sighed, her exasperation clear. “I don’t understand any of this. We’ve been here almost two months. They must have known we were no threat.”

“They took a trouncing this morning,” Max said. “Random attack or not, there’s not a lot of reason for them to return. You said yourself you don’t have much they might want except the medical supplies.”

“Maybe that’s reason enough,” Rachel said, but she didn’t look or sound convinced.

Max had an uneasy feeling Rachel might know something more about what had prompted the attack than she let on. Considering the mission objectives, she was almost certain Rachel knew they were coming that morning. The French medics had been ready to evacuate the patients before the birds had even gotten into range. “What else do you know about this morning?”

“What? Nothing—why should I?”

“You tell me. Someone in your life must be pretty important, because we were sent here specifically for you. You, most importantly.”

“I don’t know why,” Rachel said, the heat rising in her cheeks. She didn’t want to betray her father by revealing his call. She really didn’t know why he’d insisted she leave, and she had no clue if the attack was related to her. All the same, her stomach roiled. Had her friends been killed because of her? Had the soldiers and sailors been shot because of her? She repeated softly, “I don’t know.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Rachel Winslow.” Rachel stared into the flinty blue eyes that examined her with stony calculation. Max de Milles didn’t trust her. The realization hurt, though she couldn’t say why. The woman was a stranger, hardened and cynical and cold. “You know that. You asked for me by name.”

“That’s because we were sent here to retrieve you. But I still don’t know who you are that made that necessary.”

“Does it matter? Am I any more important than the other eleven people who were here?” Rachel could hear how defensive she sounded, but she wasn’t more important than her friends, her coworkers. She hadn’t asked for special privileges. She certainly hadn’t asked for people to put their lives in danger because of her. She wouldn’t have this woman holding her responsible for something that had not been her choice.

“Someone thinks you’re more important.”

The way she said it made it sound as if Rachel felt the same way. Rachel’s back stiffened. “Shouldn’t we be concerned about what happens next and not spend time on fruitless questions? That sounds like something to suit your logical view of things.”

The corner of Max’s mouth twitched, and damn it if she didn’t smile. Her remoteness faded for the briefest instant and she suddenly looked approachable. Human. And despite the dirt and sweat that caked her face, incredibly attractive. Rachel’s heart skipped, a sensation she would not have believed if it hadn’t happened again when a soft chuckle reverberated in Max’s throat.

“Well, you’re quick,” Max said. “No, none of that matters all that much right now.”

The tension in Rachel’s shoulders lessened and a swift wave of relief passed through her, as if she’d been forgiven, which was ridiculous since she hadn’t done anything wrong. Why she even cared what Max de Milles thought of her given the situation was equally absurd. Feeling foolish and uncharacteristically unsure, she bristled. “Well, now that we’ve established where we both stand, what’s next?”

“We need to secure the camp in case our rebel friends come back.”

“We can’t possibly fight them. In case you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t exactly soldiers. Shouldn’t we try to…I don’t know, walk out of here on our own?”

“I’m assuming you know where you are,” Max said, impressed with Rachel’s spirit if not her stubbornness. Her reluctance to give up control could be a problem.

“Of course I know,” Rachel said, her lustrous green eyes flashing. “I wasn’t suggesting we walk the entire way, but we can hardly sit here in this tent waiting for someone to come back and shoot at us again.”

“It’s a couple hundred miles to Mog, and the jungle is peppered with mines. We’d never make it. Besides, when the birds come back for us, we need to be here.” Max glanced back at Grif. He wasn’t ambulatory and moving him at all might be dangerous. He wasn’t going anywhere, and if he wasn’t going anywhere, neither was she.

“There are villages not that far from here—that’s where our supplies come through. They would help us.”

Max shook her head. “You don’t know that—and you can be sure the rebels know about the villages too. We don’t want to stumble into a patrol out there, even if we could manage to find our way around the mines.” With an injured man and two women who have no combat skills. Max shook her head. “We’re staying.”

Her dismissive tone sounded a lot like the one Rachel’s father used with everyone, and her response was knee-jerk. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not soldiers. We don’t just mindlessly follow orders.”

“Believe me, I’m aware,” Max said. “But I plan on keeping you alive, so you’ll just have to learn to take orders.”

Rachel bit back another retort. She didn’t even know why she was fighting what obviously made sense. She sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Her apology caught Max by surprise. Stubborn and proud, but not so proud she couldn’t admit being on the wrong side of an argument. “Forget it.”

“I still don’t see how you expect us to deal with another attack.” Rachel scanned the jungle. She hadn’t been more than a few feet beyond the camp perimeter since she’d arrived. “Shouldn’t we hide or something?”

“I’m not planning a counteroffensive. If there’s something here the rebels want, they’ll be back after dark when they don’t make easy targets. By then, we’ll be in a bunker, better protected, and even a poor shot can hit something with an automatic weapon.”

“A bunker.” Rachel took in the tattered tents, the smoldering fires, and the pallets of food and other relief supplies they’d stockpiled for the Somali natives. This wasn’t a military base. Was the woman crazy? “A bunker. I don’t see a bunker.”

“That’s because we haven’t dug it yet.”

“Dug it.” Rachel’s head spun. Obviously Max felt no fear. Maybe she had stopped feeling anything at all. Rachel fought her instinct to object, to point out the insanity of the plan. Giving over control to a stranger would have been impossible even a day earlier, but now she had no choice. After all, as had been made perfectly clear, Max was the professional. “I’ll do what you say…but I’m not a robot. I need to understand.”

Max’s gaze narrowed. “It’s not enough to trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“Should it be?”

“We don’t have time for a long engagement.”

“Well, I’m not ready to elope,” Rachel said flatly. “Tell me what you want me to do and why, and we’ll get along.” She paused. Had it always been this hard to let someone else help her? When had independence become a wall? No time to worry about that now. “I’m grateful that you’re here—for all you’ve done. I know Amina and I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you and the others.”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” Max said gruffly. Her mouth thinned. The smile was long gone. “That’s not what I want.”

Rachel wondered what she did want. If she even knew. “Well, I want you to know that you have it anyway.”

“Let’s give off worrying about who did or didn’t do what. We’ve got other things to worry about.”

“Is the past so easy to set aside for you?” Rachel mused aloud, wondering more about herself than Max. Maybe if she could let go and just be in the moment. She almost laughed—just not these moments.

“No.” Max turned away. “Amina, will you take care of Grif? Check his vital signs every thirty minutes, let me know if you see anything that changes?”

“Yes.” Amina had already pulled over another chair and was sitting by Grif’s side.

“When the IV runs low, I’ll show you how to change it.”

“I can do that. I’ve assisted in the hospital here many times.”

“Good, thank you.”

“And me?” Rachel asked.

“We need someone to stand guard.”

“Shouldn’t that be you? You’re the soldier—”

“Sailor.”

Rachel frowned. “That doesn’t seem right, out here in the middle of the jungle.”

“Most Navy personnel spend very little time on a ship. Navy pilots, Navy medics, Navy SEALs—we’re all over out here.”

“All right. You’re the sailor—shouldn’t you be the one with the gun on guard duty?”

“I will be, later.” Max blanked her expression. “But first I need to take care of the bodies. They’re going to decompose rapidly in this heat, and we don’t need them drawing predators into camp on top of everything else.”

“Oh God,” Rachel said softly, “how could I forget already? How are you going to bury them by yourself?”

“I’m not. I’m going to take them out and cover them enough to keep the predators away. We’ll come back for the bodies later.”

Rachel’s chin came up. “I’ll help you.”

Tough woman. Max couldn’t help but be a little impressed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather not get shot while I’m working. I need you to watch my back.”

Rachel studied her for a long moment. “All right. I can do that.”

“Good,” Max said abruptly, uncomfortable under Rachel’s scrutiny, as if something she meant to keep hidden, something she no longer recognized, was suddenly exposed. She didn’t like the feeling. Or worse, maybe she did. “Let’s get started.”

Chapter Eight

Max covered her nose and mouth with a strip of cloth she’d torn from one of the tattered tents. Breathing through the stiff fabric was like straining air through sand, but it cut down on the cloying odor of blood and death. She dragged the third body a dozen yards or so into the bush, checking every few feet to be sure she hadn’t drawn the attention of the rebels, or a cat. She’d stationed Rachel at the edge of the jungle. If they were attacked, she could hold off the attackers long enough for Rachel to get back to the main tent, but once she was dead, there would be nothing to stand between the insurgents and the camp. If the rebels got past her, they might not fire on the tent, and Rachel and Amina would have a chance to survive. The rebels would execute Grif. Best-case scenario, the rebels would loot the camp and leave the women alive. Hoping they would also leave them unharmed was wishful thinking.