Always the Hero

In their bright red overalls, still wearing their white helmets with the rescue service insignia on the front, hefting only their backpacks full of emergency gear, Tom and Frank ducked beneath the slowing rotors and ran for the steps leading up to the modern buildings attached to the old, wooden hospital. A sign indicated that this was the island’s medical centre—the place they’d been instructed to report to first.

Even before they got through the door they could see the place was crowded. There were people milling around inside and out and the veranda of the old hospital was packed.

It had been two hours since the quake had struck. The initial tsunami warning had been cancelled when it had become clear that the quake hadn’t been centred out at sea. Were people staying on higher ground anyway, just in case?

How many of the walking wounded had made it this far? How many had been carried here? Tom had no idea what was available in terms of medical staff and resources. He had to hope that somebody competent had taken charge and would be able to fill him in. Where would they be needed most? How on earth would they even begin to triage this situation?

The waiting room was packed to the gills. The sound of children crying and the sight of so many pale, frightened people galvanised Tom into action.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ he asked the person closest to the door, a middle-aged woman who was holding a bloodstained dressing against long grey hair that was matted with blood.

‘The nurse. A— Ahhh …’ The word turned into a shriek of fear as the building shook. Children screamed. Somebody tried to push past Tom to get to the door. Everybody else was moving now, too. Gathering children into their arms and either crouching over them or turning to flee.

Tom turned to say something to Frank but all he could manage was a quiet but fervent oath. The aftershock was over almost as soon as it had begun but his heart was still picking up speed as he surveyed the room, wondering if the building was about to come down on them all.

‘It’s just an aftershock.’ The clear notes of a woman’s voice cut through the sounds of panic. ‘We have to expect them. You’re all safe in here. Mike and Don have checked the building. It’s solid.’

‘Who are Mike and Don?’ Frank’s query came as Tom tried to see past all the people and find the woman who’d spoken. There was something about that voice that had made his gut tighten instantly. Sent a tingle down the length of his spine. ‘And where are they now?’

‘Let’s find out.’ Taking a step forward, Tom found a space magically clearing, the way it usually did when they arrived on scene. They had come to help. They knew what they were doing. Their arrival was always welcome.

He could see the back of the woman now. A long blond braid hung down over a navy blue uniform. Tom felt that kick in his guts again but the sight of long blond hair always did that to him, didn’t it? Ever since … ever since …

Abby …

‘It’s definitely broken,’ he heard her tell a teenage boy as she finished winding a crepe bandage to hold a cardboard splint in place on his arm.

Now that her name was filling his head, it was easy to recognise that voice. Clear, soft notes that got a husky little edge to them when she was stressed. Or when she was.

No. Tom had to force that particular association out of his mind as fast as it had entered but it was by no means easy because there was a husky edge to her voice right now.

‘It won’t hurt so much now it’s immobilised but I’m sorry, Sean—there’s nothing more I can do right now. We’ll all have to wait until help arrives.’

‘It’s here,’ the boy told her, staring up at Tom, his eyes wide. ‘Right behind you.’

The woman rose to her feet in a graceful movement, turning at the same time. Tom could clearly see the relief in her eyes as she registered the bright uniforms of the helicopter crew. And then he saw the shock as she caught his gaze.

As she recognised him.

‘Oh, my God … Tom …?’

The shock was mutual. Tom had thought that being on an island in the aftermath of a massive earthquake was the only thing he’d be expected to have to deal with.

But he’d been so wrong.

Seeing Abby again was … was such a shock he couldn’t even begin to process it.

That hair, with its gorgeous golden-honey colour and the length that made it so damn sexy when it brushed on naked skin.

Her voice.

Those huge blue eyes that darkened in colour if her mood was extreme. They were as dark as he’d ever seen them right now. She was shocked. Afraid.

Of him?

It was another reaction that Tom had to squash. This wasn’t about them right now. It couldn’t be allowed to be. And this was most certainly not the time or place to try to process anything so personal.

So Tom simply nodded. And acknowledged her.

‘Abby.’

It was just a name but the weight that single word could carry was overpowering. It wasn’t just a person he was acknowledging. Behind that name swirled deep, personal things. Huge, painful things that Tom had thought were long since dead and buried. He could feel them hovering over him in this instant, waiting to punch him in the gut with far more force than seeing her hair or hearing her voice had done. Stab him in the heart, even.

They couldn’t be allowed to get even remotely closer. Not here, not now. They were in an emergency situation that was far bigger than a reunion between two people whose relationship had turned to custard.

‘Fill us in,’ he ordered Abby. ‘Communication’s been very patchy and we need to know what we’re dealing with, here.’

She nodded. ‘The cell phone tower is out of action. They’ve been using the coastguard radio to communicate with the mainland but nobody’s been back to update us. We had no idea when help would start arriving. Come with me.’

Abby led them to what had been her office.

Tom Kendrick was here.

Here. Right behind her. As huge as he’d ever been in both his physical size and the sheer presence his personality emanated. Just as breathtakingly gorgeous as he’d ever been, too, with those strong features and dark eyes and that deep, commanding voice. A crisp, professional voice right now but Abby knew how it could soften. How both that voice and those eyes could make her think of melted chocolate.

Oh … dear Lord … The past was crashing all around her, just like all that stuff that had come off the shelves of her office during the big quake.

Small, paper-sized things, like finding out they had the same favourite foods. Sweet, jelly-snake kinds of things, like how good the sex had been. Huge, fridge-sized things, like the way she couldn’t have imagined her future without him as a part of it.

She couldn’t handle this new bombardment. Her world had been turned upside down and shaken far too hard already. Abby walked ahead of Tom, frantically trying to find the emotional equivalent of a solid desk to crawl underneath, but every instinct was urging her to run. To get out of there—away from Tom—to find Jack and then just keep running. The way she had when Jack had been no more than a positive line on a pregnancy test?

No. Her first instinct then had been to run back to Tom, hadn’t it? Despite the fact that their relationship had already hit the rocks. She’d chosen to run later, when she’d had time to think about the implications of a future that included him.

Something like a sob was building inside her chest, making it impossible to take a breath. She couldn’t run because she was desperately needed here.

And she didn’t even know where Jack was right now, so she could find herself running totally in the wrong direction.

The hovering terror had just been magnified.

She didn’t know whether Jack really was safe.

And … what if Tom found out about Jack?

She had to hold it together. She would be no use to anyone if she fell apart. She had to hang on to the mantra that Ruth had given her within minutes of the quake. Jack was safe. All the children on the school trip, including her Brooke and Amber, would be safe. They were miles away from the township and village and the falling debris that was hurting people.

They were probably the safest people on the island and the teachers would be looking after them. The only reason that they weren’t already in the school hall that was being used as an evacuation centre was because something had happened to close the cliff road. They might have to walk instead of riding in the old school bus.

Time had passed in a blur since that initial terror. That first stunned silence, when the wail of the tsunami-warning siren could be clearly heard, hadn’t lasted long.