The Tortured Rebel by Alison Roberts Read Free Book Online

into when he’d been chiding her about her possible sex life. ‘. Frederick,’ she said decisively.
    She held his gaze. Jet sighed heavily but she was sure she’d seen a gleam of appreciation there at her feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
    ‘Don’t move. I’m going to get my kit.’
    ‘What? Where is it?’
    ‘In the chopper. Along with a lot of other useful medical gear I should try and retrieve. We’ve still got an appointment with some injured people who can’t be too far away.’
    ‘But …’ Becca looked past him. The light was stronger now. A little less red maybe but no less strange. The air looked thick. With ash? She didn’t know much about volcanoes but surely they’d need to find some kind of masks to breathe through?
    The helicopter wreckage was clearly visible, a bent rotor sticking up in the air like a distressed swimmer’s arm. The other rotor seemed to be wedged in the rocks but it wasn’t enough of an anchor for stability. The mortally wounded aircraft was rolling with each wave. Tipping and sliding on the rocks.
    ‘You can’t go back inside,’ she told Jet. ‘It’s far too dangerous.’
    But Jet was standing up.
    What if something happened to him? If he got trapped inside and the wreckage got sucked off the rocks by an extra-big wave? He’d drown and … and it would be worse than sitting here alone, waiting for a wall of molten lava to swallow her up.
    ‘Don’t go … Please …’
    The words were a whisper but he seemed to haveheard them. He crouched swiftly, putting his hands on her shoulders.
    ‘I have to,’ he said quietly. ‘We need the medical supplies. It won’t take long.’
    His gaze was holding hers. Was he trying to reassure her? Give her strength?
    It wasn’t working.
    ‘I’ll be right back,’ Jet said with absolute confidence. ‘I’ll look after you, OK?’
    Becca nodded but bit her lip at the same time. She shouldn’t need looking after. She was a grown-up. A highly trained helicopter pilot. A woman in complete control of her life and her future. At least, she had been, until a very short time ago.
    At this precise moment, she was only too grateful to be given that promise. To pull it around her like a comforting hug.
    Jet was standing up again. He looked down. His face was half-covered in blood and his expression could only be described as grim but those dark eyes were so alive. Gleaming, in fact.
    ‘We’re on land now,’ he told her. ‘My game.
My
rules.’
    And with that, he was gone. A shape so dark and lithe it was only seconds before he virtually vanished against the rocks.
    Leaving Becca, huddled alone on that tiny, stony beach, was one of those ‘lesser of two evils’ decisions.
    Jet’s head told him that it was what had to be done. He needed his medical gear to help her as well as the other people on this island. What use were his skills if he had no pain relief or fluids or any of the dozens of otherthings compressed into his specialist backpack? There were items in the helicopter he’d been counting on, as well, but they would have to be left behind. Things like portable oxygen and traction splints and the life pack. There was no point in retrieving anything he wouldn’t be able to carry himself.
    Part of his brain was pointing out that Becca still had one good arm so she’d be able to carry something but Jet was arguing the notion as he scrambled back over the rocks. He could feel the pain in his hands, despite how cold they were, as he tried to grip the sharp surfaces and he made a mental note to keep an eye out for the leather gloves he’d stripped off in order to feel what he was doing in that first check on Becca’s condition.
    He’d felt it all right. No amount of mental discipline could shove it all into a doctor-patient box. The relief of finding she wasn’t badly injured had warned him of an unprofessional involvement. The wrench of putting her down on the beach had been another warning and even that had paled in