What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(50)

“Yes. Who are you?” No mistaking that hostility. This Zone guy had issues, or maybe he didn’t like gunshots so close to his lookout.

Max told him what he wanted to know. “I’m the man carrying the ugly marble head in my bag.”

“Then let’s go.” Zone turned and stalked up the path.



26


Kellen woke when the stranger said, “She needs stitches.”

She felt a tug on the skin on her arm. Consciousness flood her mind. She opened her eyes and sat up. “Rae!”

“Stupid woman!” the unknown man’s voice said. “You don’t move when I’m sticking a needle in your arm.”

“Relax, Kellen. Rae is here.” Max’s voice was soothing.

A flash of impressions: a tall black-bearded guy sat on the bed with her, holding a needle and thread and scowling. Max, his hand on her elbow, held it steady. Rae sat on the floor, eating a bowl of popcorn and staring wide-eyed as the stranger put stitches in Kellen’s arm.

Rae was warm, dry, safe.

Kellen was warm, dry, safe.

Max was here. He had found them.

She looked at the man with the needle. Only one person it could be. Must be Zone.

“Rae is fine,” Max said. “She saved you.”

In a scramble of memory, Kellen recalled sending Rae away. Rae had insisted she would save Kellen and—the kid had done it!

Kellen smiled at her daughter. “Good job. Thank you, LightningBug.”

Rae grinned, all big teeth and well-fed cheer.

Kellen fell back on the bed.

Zone cursed her again. “If you’re done trying to rip these stitches through your skin, I’ll finish sewing you up.”

“Go ahead.” She waved her other hand and closed her eyes, then opened them again to look at Rae, then closed them again. The thread tugged at her skin, but she felt no pain. Zone must have numbed the whole area.

He stitched with competence, he bandaged the wound, he informed her when he gave her an antibiotic injection, and he told her to take in fluids. Lots and lots of fluids. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” The mattress creaked as he stood.

It creaked again as Max sat. “Because of her, Zone, you have your marble head.”

“Yeah!” Rae said.

“Yeah.” Zone sounded disgusted.

Kellen grinned and opened her eyes.

Rae had abandoned the bowl of popcorn on the floor and leaned against the bed.

“I’ve got water mixed with orange juice.” Max helped Kellen sit up and handed her a bottle.

She drank with all the pleasure of someone who thought she would never drink again. She reached up and cupped Max’s cheek. “Thank you.” Thank you for coming for us, thank you for finding us, thank you for bringing us to safety.

He cupped his hand over hers and nodded. She could feel his emotion, see the way his eyes glistened. He hadn’t wasted time worrying; he had come for them at once—and because of him, she was safe.

The mattress jiggled. “Mommy!”

Kellen leaned back on the pillow, smiled at Rae and held out her arms.

Rae hopped up enthusiastically. She and Rae rested on a twin-size bed tucked into one corner. A large, thick, luxurious and oddly out-of-place antique rug rested in front of it.

Kellen winced as every joint in her body flinched. Didn’t matter. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. Her daughter.

“Be careful of those stitches!” Zone snapped.

“I will,” Rae snapped back and cuddled against Kellen’s good side.

Kellen relaxed. All was right with the world.

From the vantage point of the bed, Horizon Lookout appeared to be constructed as one big square building. Somewhere above, on the roof, she could hear a generator running, creating their electricity, and water gurgled as the clarifier made it suitable for use. This room appeared to be half of the building, as well as the all-purpose room. The bathroom door was in one corner. Dark shutters covered all the windows; from the look of them they let out no light.

That not only gave her a sense of safety, but also the knowledge that Zone understood the dangers that could lurk out in a forest where the most savage beasts weren’t bears and wolves, but men.

Wedged against the far wall was a bookcase stuffed with worn paperbacks and a battered plaid easy chair and ottoman. When she craned her neck, she could see an open folding door that led into an entirely different room; the Restorer’s workshop, by the looks of the high table and scattered tools. A bare-bones kitchenette was in the opposite corner from the bed, with a two-person drop-leaf table.

Max gave Kellen and their little girl a moment of cuddling, then reached for Rae. “Rae, Mommy needs to go to sleep.”

“Can’t go to sleep. Need the bathroom.” Kellen sat up slowly. “And a shower.”

“No one can argue with that,” Zone spoke from the kitchen in the other corner of the room. “Your sweet feminine odor could attract flies—if we had any at this elevation.”

Kellen eyed him evilly. “You’re a charmer.”

“Bathroom, yes,” Max said firmly. “A shower can wait. You can’t get that bandage wet anyway.”

Kellen smelled like three days of sweat, terror and effort. She needed a shower more than food, more than fluids, more than good sense. “I said I want a shower.”