Darkest Before Dawn (KGI series)(31)
“You think I survived this long by being stupid?” she hissed. “That I’m a childish idiot who would think that crossing a mere border would somehow make me impervious to capture or harm? I’m a woman alone, traveling alone. Even were I not hunted by a group of *s I would still be at risk from any number of other sources. I would never have let my guard down—and I still won’t—until I’m on a plane back home.”
Her chin came up, a defiant, challenging gesture as she issued the warning that she didn’t trust him or his motives. No, she wasn’t stupid. Never once had he thought that. Stupid would have been throwing herself in his arms and at his mercy and never questioning, just assuming that he had come to save her. Stupid would have gotten her captured within hours of her digging herself out of the rubble. Stupid did not survive over a week in a hot, barren, unfamiliar land with no one to help you but yourself.
“This is a pointless and childish argument,” he said, purposely using her own words against her. “The border is being watched and heavily patrolled. The area between the border and anyone remotely friendly to your cause will be barricaded and sealed. And we’ll get our asses shot down if we attempt to fly a helo out of here. Now, have I satisfied your ridiculous curiosity so we can stop wasting time?”
“Of course. What right do I have to know anything that affects my safety or that could get me killed? Yep, that’s childish of me all right. By all means, oh lord and master. Lead on. I just hope to hell you know what you’re doing because so far you’ve left a lot to be desired. I’ve heard a lot of talking, but no proof that anything you say is the truth.”
CHAPTER 8
HONOR’S entire body hurt. Her head and knee ached vilely as they bumped their way over land without an established road, kicking up a dust cloud that could be seen for miles. They didn’t seem overly concerned with their visibility, and she wondered why they hadn’t opted to travel under the cover of dark as she had. It had certainly kept her alive this long.
She didn’t remember the pain being this severe, but then she’d become very adept at pushing it away and denying its existence. There had been no other choice, because to stop or even hesitate would mean her capture. Now that she was somewhat removed from the immediate threat of discovery at all times, it was as though her mind could no longer block the screams of her body.
Several times, Honor would have sworn that Hancock and the fierce, uncommunicative man on the other side of her protected her from the worst of the bumps by steadying her body with their own. But it was likely her imagination. They were being thrown around just as she was. There was no softness in them. And they’d certainly given her no reason to believe she was anything more than a nuisance, a mission they’d likely objected to and had only carried out under strict orders.
But from whom? Had word spread of her survival? Did the U.S. government care enough about one lowly relief worker to risk some of their finest men, or worse, starting an unofficial war with A New Era? Or had her story reached the media and swept across the world in sensationalistic style, forcing the United States to act? And God, what must her family be enduring? She wanted to asked Hancock if there was a way they could be contacted. Just to let them know she was alive. But no, that would be cruel. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, and to give them false hope only for her to end up dead after all would be terrible for them.
She wanted answers, but these men were as tightlipped as they came. Hancock didn’t even answer her more innocuous questions without making it a federal issue. As if her fate wasn’t something she had a right to know.
Anger blazed through her veins all over again at his domineering, * demeanor. But was she doing just as he’d insinuated? No, he hadn’t insinuated anything. He’d very bluntly told her she was looking a gift horse in the mouth. A good bedside demeanor was purely optional. If they got her out of the country and on her way back home, they could all be flaming *s for all she cared.
“How badly are you hurting?”
Hancock’s soft question startled her, breaking the silence that had descended in the interior of the off-road vehicle. She couldn’t help but swing her head toward him in surprise, wondering if she’d imagined the question. Or the actual . . . concern . . . in his voice. Surely she’d imagined that part at least.
Turning so fast made her promptly regret doing so. Pain speared through her head and suddenly black dots swam in her vision, her surroundings growing dim, fading almost to black.
Hancock swore and then suddenly she found herself eased downward, her head coming to rest gently on Hancock’s lap. The other man lifted her legs and positioned them across his lap so that she lay between the two men.
“You didn’t tell me you had a head injury. Just the knee injury,” Hancock said grimly.
Already his fingers were delving into her hair and she tensed, expecting him to be rough. But he was extremely gentle as he felt along her scalp.
“I didn’t know,” she managed to slur out. “How could I have known? I was in shock after the attack and then desperate to form a plan to escape—and survive. The only injury that registered was to my knee. It made walking . . . difficult.”
“I can imagine,” Hancock said dryly. “It’s still very swollen, aggravated, no doubt, by all that walking.”
His fingers glanced over a spot and she immediately cried out, blackness and nausea engulfing her.