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I can only hope it’s not Smith, I add silently in my head. We stand a better chance if one of his brainless pals is the only person awake out there.
“Okay,” Winter says. “Let’s wait another half an hour just to be on the safe side, and then we go in as planned.”
I nod, even though I have no intention of sticking to the plan.
18
LOGAN
“It’s time,” Winter says a while later.
I squeeze her hand to let her know I’ve heard her.
We start to circle back toward the camp, Winter in front of me. But I stop at once. With the moon completely risen, her head of white-blonde hair stands out in the darkness like a beacon.
“Wait,” I call-whisper.
“What?”
“Your hair, it’s too light, it’s unmissable. I could spot it from a mile away.”
“Logan, I’m not staying behind,” she threatens.
“I wasn’t suggesting you did,” I say. “Come here,” I add, and quickly pull one of my dark shirts out of my backpack.
When she reaches me, I wrap her hair under the fabric, securing the shirt around her head with two tight knots.
She smiles at me throughout the whole process, the hint of flirtation clear on her face—which, by the way, shines just as bright as the hair. Even after two weeks in the tropical sun, her skin is still pearly white and too reflective even in the faint moonlight.
Without giving her any warning, I sink my hands in the moist dirt and smear a generous amount across her cheeks.
Winter sputters in protest. “What are you doing?”
“Covering your face,” I say, adding a smudge to her forehead. “Your skin is too light as well.”
“Really?” She scowls. “You seem to be enjoying yourself an awful lot, Dr. Spencer.”
And, if in the beginning her calling me Dr. Spencer used to annoy me… now the title has a whole different effect.
Not the time.
“It’s for your protection,” I reply, dead serious.
“Well, in that case.” She sinks her hands into the muddy ground and returns the favor, saying, “If you’re into dirty foreplay.”
And even though the circumstances are so dire, she manages to crack a smile out of me.
Once the camouflage is complete, we resume the journey toward Tucker’s tent. My muscles scream in protest from all the crouching and crawling, and my body hurts everywhere. The amazing woman next to me must be in the same state of pain and exhaustion, but not a single complaint escapes her lips. And I can’t help it; my chest swells with pride, as if her endurance was my merit somehow.
When we reach the other side of the camp, Winter starts forward toward Tucker’s tent, but I pull her back.
She looks at me questioningly.
“You go get the phone,” I whisper. “There’s something else I have to do.”
“What?” she hisses. “Logan, no! We have a plan; you stick to the plan.”
“I can’t. I can’t leave Archie like that. I have to find him an antibiotic and some water.”
