“Stay in the trees,” he said. “Don’t move until?—”
“No.” Her voice was certain. “You can barely stand. You’re not going down there.”
She followed his gaze to the town. The UAZ. The pharmacy. Then she looked back at him. “Look at you.”
His eyes flicked to hers.
“Stitches in your head. Blood on your shirt. You’re wearing tactical gear. You scream military.” Her gaze swept over him. “You walk in there, every head turns.”
He gave a small shrug. “I’ll manage.”
“No.” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to focus on her. “You won’t. You look like trouble, Pav. The kind people remember.”
He exhaled, concentrating on standing still.
She pressed a hand to her sternum. “Me? I look like a woman grabbing supplies before the weather turns. No one looks twice.”
“That’s not?—”
“I’m not a threat to anyone.” A beat. “You are. Even when you look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” A flicker of a smile touched her mouth—caught in her storm-gray eyes.
Fuck. Now he was noticing the color of her eyes.
She was right and he hated it.
Her voice softened, just a fraction. “I can get in and out without anyone clocking me. You can’t.”
He blew out a breath. He was out of arguments.
“The pharmacy.” He pointed at the green cross. “Antibiotics. Amoxicillin, cephalexin, doxy?—”
“I think I know what antibiotics are.” Her hands hit her hips, and her eyebrows cranked upward.
Shit.He huffed a breath. “Yeah. Fine. I have cash…”
He glanced down, his brain derailing.Which pocket?
“Here. Let me.” She stepped in, reaching into his cargo pockets. Left, then right. Her hand brushed his hip through the fabric—brief, practical?—
Sonotpractical.
Fucking fuck.
He breathed through his nose, fixed his gaze on the horizon until her hand was gone.
“In and out,” he said. “Five minutes. I’ll be watching.”
She gave him a nod and turned toward the town.
He positioned himself with clear sightlines to the pharmacy door and the UAZ. Weapon up. One eye on the door, one on the street. The buildings wobbled for half a second. But his hands were steady despite the heat burning through his system, his body running hot enough to blur the margins of his vision.
Some things the fever couldn’t touch—muscle memory sat deeper than the infection.
She descended into the town. He tracked her automatically, and the feeling that settled in his chest wasn’t operational.
