Close Pursuit. Cindy Dees
was surly and uncommunicative when he returned from the river, his hair wet, and he retreated immediately into the tent to take a nap. She mimicked him and washed her hair. She brushed it out as she perched on the flat boulder outside and waited for the sun to set beyond the mountains. It was risky to sit outside like this in plain sight of anyone who happened by, but she got horrendously claustrophobic inside the tent, especially when Alex’s brooding presence filled it so completely. She found it strange to sit in silence like this and just contemplate existence.
His earlier question disturbed her. So what if nothing tragic had ever happened in her life? That wasn’t her fault. She and her family had been lucky. She got the feeling he hadn’t been so lucky, though. A desire to know him, to know the source of the darkness she sensed in him, rattled in her gut...along with trepidation at what she might learn. People didn’t get that dark without some serious crap in their pasts.
It was windy today, and the dust in the atmosphere made for a spectacular sunset that stretched high up into the heavens. As beautiful as it was, it also marked the inevitable passage of time. Would Alex insist on collecting his winnings when he woke up? He’d said yesterday that he doubted she would get much sleep tonight. Was he referring to the bet, or patients, or something else altogether?
How had he been so certain he would win, anyway? Suspicion took root in her mind that he’d heard something on the radios or gotten inside knowledge of some kind and thrown the bet. He seemed like the kind of man to whom winning would be more important than splitting ethical hairs over how he won.
“Time to douse the fire,” Alex announced quietly from behind her.
She nodded and kicked dirt over the little campfire. Its light would be visible for miles after dark, and they dared not announce their presence like that. She figured the local men had to be getting suspicious by now. All the women sneaking out at night to have their babies, and all of them coming back alive? Something was up with that. The ones who gave half a crap about their wives and daughters might tacitly approve of a doctor to the extent that they didn’t rat out her and Alex. But, eventually, someone radical would say something to the seriously hard-core religious types in the area.
Desperate to keep Alex’s mind off sex as she ducked into the tent behind him, she asked, “How much longer do you think we’ll be able to stay here before we have to move?”
“I give it two more days. Call it a twelve percent probability of our being discovered tonight. Double that tomorrow, and double it again the day after.”
Crud. Mental math required. Twelve times two was twenty-four, times two was forty-eight. “That’s almost even odds in three days,” she blurted.
“Like I said. Two days from now, we’re out of here.”
“Should we leave tonight?” she asked in alarm.
“We should certainly think about starting packing.”
Awesome. Maybe he would be so tired after packing up tonight he wouldn’t want to collect his winnings. Although, part of her—a tiny part—was curious about what sex with him would be like. He seemed really sure of himself when the subject came up. Would he be gentle or fierce? Vanilla or...not? He probably wouldn’t fumble about clumsily; she would bet a hundred bucks he knew his way around the female body very well, indeed.
She dived into the task of packing with gusto. As long as she was moving, he couldn’t have his wicked way with her. For his part, he busied himself with the boxes of medical gear, hauling them one by one down to the Land Rover. To date he’d never let her look inside any of them. When she’d asked about them, he’d only shrugged and said he’d crack them open if and when they needed the supplies inside. Whatever was in the boxes was heavy. Alex moved carefully down the hill in the darkness before the moon came up.
She’d just gotten back from carrying down a bag of miscellaneous camping gear they could do without for the next day when an explosion ruptured the night.
“Uh, Alex?” she said quietly. “That was pretty close.”
She jumped when his voice came out of the gloom right behind her. “No more than a half mile.”
And how, exactly, did a physician know how to judge distance on artillery fire? She opened her mouth to ask him, but another explosion, even closer, silenced her. Alex’s arm went around her waist as he sprinted up the hill and all but threw her past him into the tent.
She tried to ask him what the heck that had been for, but his hand went over her mouth as he yanked her back against his hard body. Heat seeped through her clothing, and had she not been straining to hear what had flipped him out, she might have relished it. But as it was, she stood tense and silent in his arms.
There it was. The sound of people moving down by the river. Maybe a half-dozen by the sounds of their scuffling. A voice floated up the hill...a male voice...saying something in the local dialect about engaging the rebels in the lower pass.
Alex backed up, dragging her with him, and sat down on the cot in the back of the tent, which had the effect of landing her in his lap. She lurched as his hot breath touched her right ear. And then, oh, man, his lips moved against it.
“We’re going to have to wait out the battle until it moves on, and then we’ll bug out of here. We’ll take whatever supplies we can carry in one trip down the mountain. But until then, no lights and no sound. Understood?”
She nodded and felt her hair moving against his cheek. His hand fell away from her mouth, and he lifted her off his lap.
He stood and moved into the corner. When he came back, he pressed something cold and heavy into her hand. She recognized the rough grip and heft of a pistol.
“Do you know how to use this?” he breathed.
She ran her fingers over the weapon in the dark. “Luger .22 with an extended clip. Standard model. Check.” She loaded the clip he passed her, clicked off the safety and rested her index finger beside the trigger guard as she laid the weapon in her lap.
“You can tell the make and model just by feel?” Alex blurted. He added grimly, “If we get out of here alive, you and I need to talk.”
His right hand rested by his side, presumably with a weapon in it, as well. She shivered a little, belatedly registering that the night was growing cold around them quickly without their propane heater to ward off the chill. He held out his left arm, barely visible in the dark, and she accepted the invitation gratefully.
He tucked her close against his side. His body was solid and warm, and she had to admit she found it reassuring to cuddle up against him. A shell whistled overhead, and a tremendous explosion nearby sent dust raining down on them in the brief illumination.
How long they sat there listening to the artillery barrage blasting the valley to smithereens, she didn’t know. An hour, maybe. The explosions ebbed and flowed, sometimes close and sometimes farther away. Small-arms fire announced that the rebels and local ground forces were engaging in direct combat close by.
She heard the high-pitched engine whine again. Another drone. But this time, the scream of its engine was followed immediately by the sound of ordnance exploding in airbursts nearby. An attack drone? Who in the hell had access to that kind of weaponry out here?
Yet another whistling scream pierced the night. A big explosion deafened Katie as a flash illuminated the darkness. She looked up and a little scream escaped her when she saw a black figure looming in the doorway of their tent. She yanked up her pistol to shoot the intruder, but Alex was faster. He slammed his hand over her pistol, shoving it down to the cot before she could pull the trigger.
What the—
He was on his feet, moving as quickly as a cat to the shadow in the door. He took the person by the arm and guided him or her inside.
It dawned on Katie that the shadow was much shorter than Alex. And clothed in voluminous robes. Crap. She’d almost shot a local woman.
“Talk to her,” Alex ordered low. “But keep it quiet.”