“Even if there are, I doubt they’d come this close to a village.”
“Doubt? I’m coming with you,” she said and tried to stand.
He pressed a hand to her shoulder. It didn’t take much to keep her from getting up. “I’ll be back. Lie low if you see headlights or a spotlight swinging your direction.”
She grabbed his arm. “What about you? What if you don’t come back?”
He didn’t want to leave her, but she wasn’t in any condition to accompany him on his mission to find medicine and a faster way to the next location.
“I’ll be back. I promise.” He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.” He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Marta snorted, leaned her head back against the wall of the shack and closed her eyes. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.” She waved her right hand. “Go.” Her eyes opened again. “But please hurry back. I kind of like having you around.”
With one last glance at the scientist, trying to be brave when she was obviously hurting, Crusher slipped into the shadows and hurried away. Marta needed medicine. If she didn’t get some soon, she might not make it to Miami.
His heart squeezed hard in his chest. He couldn’t let that happen. The feisty scientist had come this far. She deserved a chance to save the world.
Not that they had anything in common, a scientist and a mercenary, but Crusher found that he kind of liked her. She was growing on him.
Go figure.
Chapter 4
Marta’s head ached, throbbing with the beat of her heart. She shivered in the warm, humid night air. Even more irritating than the headache was the pain that shot through her arm when her wrist bumped against anything.
“Great,” she whispered to herself. “I lived to get out of the compound only to die of sepsis on the run.” She chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.” Her eyes opened to the night sky, filled with brilliant starlight, making so much visible in a murky, eerie way. Thankfully, she sat hidden in the shadow of the structure.
Once again, headlights and a spotlight penetrated the brush between her and the road leading out of the village. A heavy engine moved past, tires crunching against gravel. It had to be Vasquez’s men looking for them.
Marta pulled her knees to her chest, wincing when she touched her wrist to her leg.
Crusher had been right to go without her. She doubted she had the stamina or the agility to duck in and out of shadows after running through the jungle for the past several hours. How the hell was she supposed to keep going when her energy reserves were nil?
She wished she had Crusher’s watch to track how long he’d been gone. Staring out into the darkness only made the time seem to stretch into forever. With the added stress of a vehicle driving by shining a spotlight into the trees, her mind spun with a variety of scenarios, none of which ended well for her or Crusher.
By the time he returned, Marta’s heart was racing.
“Hey,” Crusher whispered as he rounded the corner of the shed. He arrived empty-handed and dropped down beside her. “You makin’ it?”
She forced a quiet laugh. “I’d make it even better if you’d brought a hamburger.”
His teeth flashed in the shadows. “No hamburgers,” he said and dug into the pockets of his dark cargo pants. “But will this do?” he pulled out something wrapped in cloth, which he unwrapped carefully and handed to her.
“An empañada?” she whispered, her stomach burbling as she took the meat-filled pastry from him. “How—” she shook her head. “Oh, who the hell cares. Thank you.” She took one bite, savoring the flavors as they exploded in her mouth.
While she ate the pastry, Crusher emptied his other pockets of first-aid supplies, including gauze, antibiotic ointment, alcohol pads, a bar of soap and three plastic bottles of water.
Once he had it all laid out, he sat back and waited.
“I can finish this later,” she said and looked for a place to lay the remainder of the empanada down.
He shook his head. “Finish eating. It’ll provide the fuel you’ll need.”
She did, very aware of his eyes following her every move. She didn’t care. The food was good after the six weeks she’d existed on subpar offerings. When she finished, she sighed and held out her wrist.
With a surprisingly gentle touch, Crusher cleaned the wound with water and the bar of soap. Once he’d flushed the area, he opened an alcohol pad packet and glanced up. “This might sting.”
She grimaced. “It already hurts. Just do it. I’ll do my best not to cry.”
