Without Regret (Pyte/Sentinel #2)(104)

Five minutes later she had him out of the water and lying on the damp sand as she searched his pockets. It didn’t take long to find the baggie with his two phones and his wallet. She grabbed the one on top, the silver one that didn’t impress her and make her drool with geek-like need.

“Damn it, no signal,” she said, tossing the phone back in the bag. She grabbed the sleek black one and noted the blinking green light. He probably had a message, she thought as she tried to figure out how to open the damn thing.

Five minutes later she was pissed and kind of impressed, but pissed nonetheless that she couldn’t open it. She tossed it back in the bag, sealed it and gently slid it back in his pocket before she turned her attention to his bag. Of course he had a small survival kit with matches and stuff, but that stuff would have to wait until she figured out a way to get him on solid ground and further away from the water.

Or maybe she should just start a fire and hope someone saw it and came to help, she thought as she looked through the rest of his bag. When she spotted a large black handgun she paused. If he didn’t wake up anytime soon it would be up to her to defend them.

Her hand shook as she picked up the gun, careful to keep her fingers as far away from the trigger as she could manage as placed it on a flat gray rock beside her.

She pulled a large black tee shirt out of his bag and laid it over his chest, having absolutely no idea what to do, but she knew she had to get him dry and warm, but that meant getting him up the hill.

She had to try. There was no way she could leave him to freeze. She didn’t know much about survival, but she knew being wet in the cold September night air was bad. It might take her half the night, but she needed to try.

Hoping like hell that she didn’t make his injuries worse, she squatted behind him, grabbed him by arms and nearly whimpered when she couldn’t wrap her hands around his massive biceps. She gave up her hold and grabbed his backpack once again, praying that it wouldn’t snap.

**********

Why the hell was he so cold?

He opened his eyes and was met with pitch black. Oh shit, was he blind? he wondered as the mattress beneath him shivered. His chest hurt every time he inhaled, but at least the sharp stabbing pain in his lung was gone.

By the feel of it, the ribs were still broken, but his lung felt healed, at least healed enough not to make him wish he was dead. That was progress. Soft tissue injuries always healed the fastest, but they still required rest and time.

“Munchkin?” he muttered, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

His mattress let out a relieved sigh.

“You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered accusingly, sounding both relieved and scared.

“What’s going on? Where are we?” he asked, wrapping an arm around his chest as he tried to sit up, but his damn ribs screamed in protest, keeping right where he was.

“Oh, you mean besides you scaring the ever loving hell out of me?” she demanded.

“Yeah, that,” he said dryly as he tried to look around and failed.

Going by the cold air being softly blown over his body and sound of water rushing by they were still by the river. Did she ever f**king listen?

“I thought I told you to run, Munchkin. You shouldn’t be here,” he bit out, wishing he could haul her over his knees and spank the hell out of the beautiful ass of hers.

She let out a cute little snort as she hugged his shoulders more tightly against her. “Did you really think I was going to run off and leave you defenseless?”

Defenseless………

That was the wrong f**king choice of words to use on him. Long ago hated memories threatened to surface and he shoved them away and focused on the woman that ignored him and pissed him right the f**k off.

“I wasn’t defenseless,” he spat out through chattering teeth.

“Oh, really? Then what would you call passing out and remaining unconscious for probably twelve hours?” she asked and he didn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone one bit.

“I didn’t pass out. I was resting.”

“Riiiiiiight,” she said, sounding as though she didn’t believe him. “So when you almost drowned, got dragged for an hour and it down poured for probably three hours you were just catching a catnap?”

“Exactly,” he said, trying not to smile at how cute she sounded as his anger faded away. How the hell did she do that to him? He was pissed, beyond pissed that she hadn’t listened to him and hauled her ass out of here and now he was…….calm. He still wasn’t happy that she hadn’t listened to him and worried about her safety, but he wasn’t angry, at least not at her.

He was angry with himself for failing her. When she needed him the most he’d f**ked up and left her alone and vulnerable. He didn’t even want to think about what could have happened while he was out. Her abilities might be starting to surface, but she was a weak, untrained female, a pregnant female.

When he started to wonder if the baby was okay he forced those thoughts away. It wasn’t a baby, it was a problem, he reminded himself. It was something he couldn’t allow himself to think about or want. Her pregnancy was just another f**kup in recent f**kups and one they would take care of when they reached a compound. He didn’t care what she said, she wasn’t keeping it.

He couldn’t be there for her and he couldn’t stomach the idea of her struggling to bring up a child alone. He didn’t want to think of a child crying itself to sleep at night, wondering where its father was and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out the hard way that he inherited more than just his dark hair from that bitch that gave birth to him. He could never take that chance.