Off Limits

“Gal, as much as I wish I could, I can’t carry you,” Jim whispered. Without thinking, he reached out and pushed several strands of hair from her dirt-smudged cheek. “You gotta walk. Understand? We gotta get out of here.” He glanced up at the triple canopy overhead. “Before it gets dark.”

Alex nodded her understanding. Jim rose, his hands on her shoulders to steady her. With all her strength, Alex pushed upright onto her feet. If not for his lean, powerful body as a support, she would have crumpled. His arm went around her waist, and she sighed raggedly in relief.

Without a sound, Jim felt Alex lean against him, and he slowly turned her around. Pain shot up his leg. The bones had been set only recently, and he knew that if Alex couldn’t walk on her own, he’d have to leave her. When she weakly placed her right arm around his waist, her head against his shoulder, he smiled to himself. She wasn’t a quitter, and that made him want to save her all the more.

The slow, torturous walk began. Alex was aware of the marine limping badly on his left leg, the side she was on. As she struggled forward, black dots would dance in front of her eyes. When they did, she would grab at his waist for fear of fainting. Each time, his arm tightened around her and he stopped, waiting patiently. When Alex nodded that the faintness had passed, he slowly began their walk again. She lost track of time as darkness gradually fell over the jungle. No matter how bad she felt physically, Alex felt safe. Whoever this marine was, he was confident, and that gave her the courage to go on.

The jungle had darkened to near blackness when finally Alex felt Jim draw to a halt. His lips scant inches from her ear, he whispered, “We’re home, gal.”

Relief shattered through Alex, and she felt her knees buckling beneath her. The blackness that had been threatening to engulf her finally did, and Alex heard herself moan softly as she connected with the ground. It was the last thing she remembered.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_b829b5e9-07a1-51ed-9eb2-0aae033b1a89)

Alex awoke slowly, moving through a constant barrier of pain radiating from her wound. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the gloom. At least her nose was working. Wherever she was lying had the dank, stale odor of earth. Slivers of moonlight tremored from some unknown source above her. Slowly she began to see outlines.

Jim McKenzie slept with his chin against his chest opposite her, propped against an earthen wall. Alex heard frogs and crickets in the distance. She appeared to be in a cave of some sort, the bare outline of walls rising around them. The ground under her was hard and unforgiving, but Alex realized that a blanket had been placed beneath her against the dampness. The flight suit she’d worn had been removed, as had her blouse. In its place, a thin blanket covered her. Carefully touching her dressed shoulder wound, Alex realized that her left bra strap had been cut away, but she still wore the remainder of the bra.

Her gaze returned to McKenzie. He was barefoot! Calluses covered the balls and heels of his feet. Her gaze drifted upward, and she drank in the sight of him in his rumpled olive uniform. Even in sleep, his hand rested over the butt of a sheathed knife fastened around his waist.

To the left of him she saw a few meager supplies, but couldn’t make out exactly what they were. When she moved slightly, the marine snapped awake. In the same motion, he jerked the long, lethal-looking knife from its sheath. Gasping, Alex froze.

Jim had gone instantly from a sitting position to a kneeling one, knife ready. Sleep was torn from him. When he realized it was Alex who had moved, his shoulders slumped in relief. The terror in her huge gray eyes made him quickly resheathe his Ka-bar knife. He moved over to her, crouching under the five-foot roof of the tunnel—too low for him to stand upright.

“How you doing?” he asked, his voice shaky with adrenaline.

Alex closed her eyes and touched her pounding heart. “Okay. You scared me to death when you jumped like that.”

Jim sat down, his right leg tucked beneath his body, his splinted leg stretched out before him. In the moonlight he could see the tension in Alex’s face. She was in obvious pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “it’s a habit.”

Relaxing as he lightly touched her left arm, Alex nodded. “That’s okay.” She licked her dry lips. “You’re Jim McKenzie.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think you’d remember. You were pretty out of it when I found you. We’re in a caved-in tunnel the enemy used to own.” He pointed upward. “There’s a small, concealed hole up there for air ventilation and light, but if we talk too loud, a passing VC might overhear us. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” Alex watched as he leaned over and retrieved a chipped wooden bowl that contained water and a small piece of cloth.

Jim squeezed out of the dark green cloth, a portion of the towel he’d once worn around his neck to wipe sweat from his eyes. During the last month the towel had gradually been torn into pieces, serving many utilitarian purposes.

“I feel a lot better now than I did when you first found me.” Alex met and held his warm gaze. “Thanks for saving my life.”

His mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. “I’m glad I decided to go and check out the crash. I sure didn’t expect to find a woman.”

Alex relaxed as he gently wiped her face and neck, the water feeling heavenly against her hot skin. “Believe me, I never expected to be in Vietnam, much less get shot down.” She lifted her right hand toward him. “I’m Alex Vance...Alexandra, but my friends call me Alex.”

The shadows were deep, and Jim could see the terror banked in her eyes. She was trying to be brave, and that touched him. He gripped her hand gently and squeezed it. “Alexandra’s a real purty name. You can call me Jim, McKenzie or Mac. Any of them suit.” Releasing her hand, he rinsed the cloth in the bowl of water and squeezed it out again. “What are you doin’ in Nam?”

Licking her chapped lips, Alex tried to smile but failed. “I was taking a helicopter from Marble Mountain to Firebase Lily when we got hit by enemy groundfire,” she said softly. She closed her eyes, her voice growing scratchy. “The other marines, they didn’t make it, Mr. McKenzie. They’re dead.”

He continued to bathe her face free of the crusty dirt and blood. “I’m no officer, just an enlisted recon marine. No need for any formality.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear about those men dyin’. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Alex tried to hold back tears. Her gaze clung to his harsh, tense features. Under any other circumstance, she would have thought Jim to be made of granite, his face not handsome at all. But the way he pursed his mouth, as if to hold back his own barrage of feelings, told her he was a man with a conscience, and that made her feel better.

“You’re a corporal in the marines?”

“Recon marines,” Jim corrected. He cradled her right arm as he began to cleanse it. She had any number of scratches that could eventually fester and become infected if he didn’t wash them clean. Picking up a small bar of soap, he scrubbed the dirt from her skin.

“I’m sorry...I don’t know what recons are.”

“You’re a civilian, then? I thought you might be in the service.”

“No, I would never be in the military, believe me.”

The emotion behind her statement caught him off guard. “Not many women join,” he agreed. “Let me tell you about recons. We’re the elite arm of the corps. We get dropped behind enemy lines in teams of six men to gather information from the VC. Then, if everything goes well, we’re picked up at a prearranged spot and returned behind our lines.”

“I’m not too up on the military,” Alex said. “I never knew recons existed.”

“That’s okay.” His mouth quirked again. “When I didn’t find any dog tags or identification on you, I thought you might be a spook.”

“Spook?”

“Yeah, you know—a CIA operative. A spy.”

Alex languished beneath his care. She managed a slight smile. “I’m twenty-two years old and a nursing student in Virginia. I graduate this coming September.”

“A nurse. That’s good,” he said, washing out the cloth. Dumping the dirty water into a small stream at the other side of the tunnel, Jim scooped up another bowl of fresh and brought it back to where she lay.

He wiped her throat and across her delicate collarbone. Once he’d dragged Alex into his tunnel and concealed the entrance with brush, Jim had done the best he could to tend her wound in the dark before catching some sleep himself. What he’d seen when he’d removed her blouse hadn’t been encouraging. “Then you realize you’ve got a piece of shrapnel sticking out of your left shoulder,” he said now. He saw her eyes widen. “I took off your flight suit and blouse—” he gestured toward the rear wall “—washed both of ’em out the best I could and hung them up on those sticks wedged into the wall over there. It’ll probably take a day or two for them to dry in this humidity, though.”

Jim hesitated fractionally before pulling the blanket away from her shoulder to check the wound. They were strangers, and yet he’d nearly undressed Alex in order to tend her injury. As young as she was, Jim knew she must feel awkward at the unexpected intimacy of their situation. But he had no choice. He drew the blanket down to her waist.

Alex was too sick and worried to be embarrassed, but still she felt shy about her partial state of nudity. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead right now,” she whispered, suddenly emotional.

“You’re a fighter, so my money’s on you to pull through,” Jim offered. When he saw her cheeks flush with sudden embarrassment, he murmured, “Sorry I had to undress you.” And then he managed a slight smile. “I don’t make a habit of undressing ladies without their permission.”

His quiet words dissolved Alex’s humiliation. “It wasn’t your fault.” Alex twisted her head enough to look at the compress over her wound. “You saw the shrapnel?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty big dog-ugly piece.”

She grimaced at his colorful description. “Were you able to clean the wound out?” she asked as she lay back, exhausted.

“The best I could. You fainted as we reached the tunnel, so I took advantage of the situation. I used soap and water to clean it out before I dressed it.”

“Is it still bleeding?”

Jim shook his head. “No, it’s swollen and bruised-looking, but there’s no more bleeding.”

Relief shattered through Alex. “Good. Is there any redness around the wound? Any red streaks?” she asked, thinking of infection or blood poisoning.