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She could practically see him shrug, though her eyes were closed. As if it weren’t a source of concern to him at all. Was he really that confident in his abilities? In his men’s abilities? She should take comfort in that kind of arrogance and self-assurance. But she couldn’t quite quell the desperate fear that took over all else.
“I won’t know until we get there,” he said vaguely. “Now be still so I can administer the injections. It might burn, but it will go away quickly.”
“It can’t hurt more than it already does,” she said through tight lips.
He obviously injected the pain medication first, a fact she was grateful for, because now acknowledged, pain was screaming through her body in unrelenting waves. She could feel the glimmer of relief as he pulled the layers of her garment up so her hip was exposed. She didn’t protest with false modesty. At this point anything that gave her relief was more important than the fact he was exposing far more of her than she would have liked.
The man at her feet rotated her just enough so Hancock could access the back of her hip and then Hancock carefully swabbed the area, cleaning it with alcohol before efficiently administering both injections.
In a few seconds it was over and she sagged as Hancock readjusted her clothing. Already her surroundings were a warm, hazy glow and a wonderful leaden feeling had stolen over her body, chasing away the ever-present pain.
Still, she struggled against the heavy layers of unconsciousness and roused herself enough to open her eyes and direct her worried question up at Hancock.
“What if we run into trouble? I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag right now,” she admitted.
There was a hint of amusement in Hancock’s tone. “Leave the fighting to us. I don’t anticipate trouble—yet. So take this opportunity to rest up and heal.”
Maybe he was human after all. Or perhaps she’d misjudged him. He was, after all, carrying out a mission. Just like any other soldier or special ops force or whatever the hell he was. Black ops maybe? He was certainly secretive enough, and he hadn’t identified the branch of the military he served. Perhaps he was one of those who didn’t officially exist and he gave her no information that she could inadvertently leak at a later date.
She didn’t care. She would claim fairies rescued her just as long as she got back home. Safe. Alive.
“Thank you,” she whispered, still holding on to the last bit of awareness she possessed.
This time there was genuine puzzlement in Hancock’s voice.
“For what?”
“For saving me,” she said, her words nearly unintelligible. “For helping me. And for promising you’d get me back home.”
He stiffened beneath her. She could feel the muscles of his legs go rigid, and the hand that had been absently stroking her hand stilled and then withdrew.
“I made no such promise, Honor,” he said in a tight voice.
Maybe he wasn’t comfortable with people thanking him. If he was off the books and didn’t exist, then he wasn’t used to being thanked for anything. He and his men were ghosts. What a terrible way to live. Risking your lives for others and never being thanked.
“You trying is enough,” she murmured. “You’re my last and only hope. So thank you.”
“Go to sleep, Honor,” he said, his tone suggesting he had no liking for her words. “You need to rest while you can.”
It was a command she had no difficulty obeying. She was more than halfway there already. All it took was letting her eyelids falls heavily so that her lashes rested on her cheeks and succumbing to the sweet call of oblivion.
CHAPTER 9
IT was many hours later when the group pulled to a stop at an underground compound where they would seek refuge for the night. Dark had long since descended, making the way slower going as they drove a path through the desert where no road existed.
It had taken Hancock longer than he would have liked, but he wasn’t about to risk his men by stopping in the open in an area that wasn’t defensible. At least here, they would be underground in a blastproof bunker, and they’d take turns at watch so they’d know if anyone ventured close.
His men were well used to operating on little to no sleep. They could stay up for days and still be alert and aware in a fight, so a few hours spent on watch would hardly impair them going forward.
He eased from the vehicle and then reached in and lifted Honor’s small body into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as he strode toward the entrance Conrad had already hurried to open.
“Get the vehicle to cover,” Hancock ordered, pausing at the entrance to issue orders to his men. “Mojo, you and Conrad take first watch. Two hours. Henderson and Viper, you take the next shift.” He glanced at Copeland—or Cope as he was called for his cool-under-pressure way of being able to cope with anything. “Cope, you and I will take last watch. I’ll get everyone up when it’s time to get on the move again.”
“Why we stopping now, boss?” Conrad asked, his gaze inquisitive.
Hancock could well understand why his men would wonder at his uncharacteristic stop. They usually pushed themselves, going days without sleep in order to achieve their objective as quickly as possible.
“The woman will be useless to us unless she has time to rest and recover.”
“Bad mojo,” Mojo muttered.
“I don’t mind saying that this mission blows,” Cope spoke up.
Hancock looked at his man in surprise. He couldn’t ever remember any of his men taking issue with the many missions that were in that nebulous area between good and bad. Some of them soul sucking, taking a piece of them at a time until there was little humanity left in any of them. Hancock included. This mission was hardly one of their worst. They’d done far worse in the name of “good” and the protection of others. The innocent who couldn’t stand for themselves. That was Titan’s job. To stand for them. To protect them while they slept the sleep of the ignorant, never knowing how close they came to death.
