Rick met Doctor Myers’s eyes. She clearly didn’t want to concede. Instead, she went into a back room and returned with a wet cloth that she draped over Ozzy’s forehead. “I’m going to get you another dose of ibuprofen,” she said gently. “It will help bring down your fever and ease some of the pain. If you’re not feeling better in an hour, I want you to reconsider.”

He pressed his lips together, then said, “Ibuprofen would be great. Thanks.”

When she turned to go to a cabinet, Rick followed her. “You can’t make an executive decision?” he asked quietly. “He’s clearly suffering.”

She opened a bottle and counted out four pills. She looked from him to Ozzy and back. “No,” she said. “I can’t override his express desires. And you shouldn’t want me to.”

With a frown, he watched as she walked back to Ozzy’s bed and helped him prop up long enough to swallow the pills. He probably should not have overheard her question. “Are you an addict, Ozzy?”

Ozzy glared at her but didn’t answer. Instead, he lay back and closed his eyes.

Addict? As in substance abuse? Drugs? Ozzy had never indicated anything like that. He didn’t drink alcohol, but everyone assumed he had personal, religious reasons for abstaining.

Right now, though, wasn’t the time for Rick to ask. Ozzy needed to rest, to escape the pain as best he could.

When Doctor Myers went back to her desk, picked up a clipboard, and started writing, Rick headed in her direction. “I’m going to go back to camp and check on my men there.”

She nodded as she finished writing, then set the clipboard down. “If I need you, how can I contact you?”

“I’m just beyond the tree line. A sharp whistle will get my attention.”

She smiled. “Just whistle for you, eh?”

Rick nodded. “You know how to whistle, don’t you?”

Hands on her hips, Doctor Myers said, “Lauren Bacall said you just put your lips together and blow.”

“Got to love the classics.” Feeling another blush cover his cheeks, he grinned. “You do that, and I’ll come running.” Sobering, he checked his watch again. It was almost eleven. “When will you check your email?”

“Three.”

“Okay, fifteen hundred. I’ll be back here at fifteen thirty. Do you need anything else?”

She paused. “I don’t need anything for your men.”

He turned without another word and walked out of the clinic.

Chapter
Five

The still, humid air sat heavy around them, making their ballistic vests feel twice as heavy, causing sweat to soak through all layers of their uniforms. Two monkeys screeched and chased each other through the treetops. Rick watched them until he couldn’t see them anymore. As he opened a packet labeled “spicy penne pasta, vegetarian,” he glanced at Fisher, who finished a communication.

“What’s the word, Trout?”