WAR: Disruption (15 page)

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she babbled. “I saw you fall when the rebels started shooting and I thought you were dead. And then I couldn’t find you near the vehicle where I’d last seen you and I worried that you were out of your head and wandering around.”

Max pressed his lips to her temple. “Shh. I’m okay.”

She rested against him for a while, enjoying his strength. Tremors of delayed shock shook her body and she didn’t want to let him go.

“We should head back to the Jeep,” Max said.

Emily nodded against his chest. His arms squeezed once, then stepped back. She stared up at him through tears of grief and relief.

“Hey,” Max said, brushing a tear away. “We’re going to be okay.”

She just shook her head, knowing he couldn’t promise that. These past few days had only reinforced the lessons she’d learned from the acid attack and from her father’s emergency preparedness training. People were unpredictable. Dangerous. Bad things happened to good people for no apparent reason, so you had to be ready to fight for your survival at any time. Unable to express the tangle of emotions inside her, she reached up and slid her lips across Max’s.

His breath hitched, then his arms banded around her. He pulled her snugly against him as he ravaged her mouth. Emily lifted onto tiptoe and wriggled against him, trying to get closer. The vitality of him chased away the chill from thinking he was dead. Made her realize that she cared about him more than made sense. More than was wise, certainly. Yet… It had been a long, long time since she’d been attracted to a man with this degree of urgency.

Besides, time was short. Precious. She needed to seize every moment she had with Max. She wanted…

Max staggered to the side then clutched her arm for balance.

“Oh, no!” Emily struggled to support his weight. “I’m sorry. Is it your ribs? Damn it, I shouldn’t have done that I—”

“Not your fault.” His grip tightened on her arms. “I…ah…” He glanced down at his thigh. “I think I’m hit.”

“Oh, my God.” She bent down and saw that a jagged piece of metal about two inches wide had torn through his pants and was embedded in his outer thigh. Shoving down the quick surge of panic, she thought back to the first aid classes she’d taken. “Okay. The good news is that you weren’t shot. The bad news is that you’ve got a piece of metal sticking out of your thigh a hand’s width above your knee.” She raised her eyes to his. “To control the bleeding, we have to leave it in there until we get you back to the Jeep.”

“Yeah. I know.” He grimaced, then averted his eyes. “But…ah…” He shrugged. “The pain just kicked in. I’m not sure how well I can walk. I’m—”

“Going to need some help.” She studied the uneven terrain and remembered how hard it had been to walk over it with two good legs. Still, they didn’t have much choice. “Okay, lean on me.” She draped his arm over her shoulders. Max found a way to balance himself so that he didn’t put all of his weight on her and they headed for the slightly better footing at the side of the road.

What had been a five or ten minute walk before, now took them nearly forty-five minutes. They were both sweating and shaking by the time they finally reached the Jeep.

Emily didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see a vehicle in her life.

“Open the rear door and help me sit on the edge,” Max said. “I need to disinfect and bind up the wound.”

Shaking her head, she opened the cargo compartment and situated him so that his feet dangled inches above the ground. Then she reached inside and pulled out their water bottles. “Drink first.”

He rolled his eyes, yet despite the lines of pain around his mouth, he gave her the ghost of a smile. After he’d finished drinking, he said, “It would be easiest to cut my pants off, but these are the only pair I have left.” He studied his leg. “I think I can slip my pants over the piece of metal without jarring it too much.” He reached for his belt buckle.

Emily knocked his hands aside. “I’ll do it. You hold your weight up so I can slide the pants off your legs.”

“You’re kind of bossy, aren’t you?”

She thought about it. Realized that in the past several years she’d become less likely to take charge and more used to giving full obedience to the choreographer and ballet mistress. She’d been so focused on becoming the dancer they needed, that she’d lost the habit of speaking her mind. Finally, she shrugged. “I used to be. Early on, I served as dance captain for the corps de ballet. I had to keep the rest of the dancers focused and moving together as a unit, no matter the personality conflicts or moods of the day.”

“Sort of like a drill sergeant.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I have to admit, I find it kinda hot.”

She shot Max an exasperated look as she unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. “Seriously? You’re getting all flirty now?”

“I have a beautiful woman undoing my pants, so yeah, kinda hard not to react.”

“I think pain is making you giddy, Max.”

But as she started to pull his pants down, the tips of her fingers grazed his growing erection. To her dismay, she blushed. “Stop it. I was doing fine until you pointed out the…ah…compromising position I’m in.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but given where your hands are, there isn’t a chance in hell that I can control my body’s reaction. So finish your task. Quickly.” He blew out a breath and laughed. “Never thought I’d say that to a woman who had her hands over my crotch.”

Emily snorted with laughter and tugged on his pants, easing them carefully over his erection. Then she stretched the pant leg as wide as she could to lift it past the protruding piece of metal. Max tensed when her hand glanced off the metal, but didn’t make a sound. She pulled the pants the rest of the way down, let the material pool around his ankles, then leaned forward. The metal had penetrated his thigh at a slight angle, as if it had been stabbed into him. Emily used an antiseptic wipe to remove the small bit of blood around the entrance wound, then she looked up. “Brace yourself.”

Max gave her a tiny smile. “Just do it.”

She took a deep breath, grasped the piece of metal, and yanked it out. Max flinched, but remained silent. Still, her stomach soured because she’d caused him pain.

“Okay. Penetration wound,” she muttered. “There’s a high risk of infection because it’s hard to flush.”

“That’s right. Just let it bleed a bit.”

Emily nodded. The blood didn’t spurt, so the metal hadn’t cut any major veins or arteries. That meant it was safe to let the blood flow a minute, carrying away any foreign debris.

“Here, use this to stop the bleeding.” Max handed her a foil pocket. “It’s gauze treated with a clotting agent.”

“Cool.” She swiped away the blood, tore open the pocket, then stuck a small piece of the clotting gauze over the wound. Finally, she taped a regular piece of gauze over that.

“Nice job,” Max said.

She managed a weak smile. “Well, I won’t be applying for a position as a doctor anywhere soon, but hopefully this will hold until we get you proper medical attention. Father would be proud.”

“So what’s with the intensive emergency training?”

“My father was a little boy when the Japanese in California were sent to the internment camps. By the time he and my grandparents returned home, they’d developed a deep suspicion toward the government and an obsessive need for self-reliance. Father was raised to be prepared to take care of himself in case the government turned on us again, and he raised me and my brother the same way.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it was hard explaining to friends growing up why I had to know where all the exits were whenever I entered an unfamiliar building, and why I kept a backpack with emergency supplies with me at all times. Then, once I was old enough, I got into a lot of fights with Father over scheduling because I couldn’t take time off from ballet to spend weekends at the shooting range or driving track.”

Now a successful venture capitalist, her father had enough money to pay for reliable help and a security team, and he did so. But he also made certain that the entire family kept up their emergency preparedness skills, just in case society once again decided to turn against those with different ethnic backgrounds.

Of course, their training had never occurred in the middle of the jungle with murderous rebels on the prowl.

“I’m sorry that the training caused you problems,” Max said. “But at the same time, I’m selfishly glad you’re able to help me.”

“It’s actually the first time I’ve used these skills in a real-life situation, but it’s…satisfying. I wouldn’t want to make medicine a career, but I can understand why people choose it.” Remembering the pain pills and antibiotics that Dr. LaSalle had given them, Emily searched through the first aid kit until she found them.

Max accepted the antibiotic, but refused the pain pill. “It will knock me out. We’re not out of danger yet. I’m staying awake and coherent until I know we’re safe.”

Having experienced the side effects of heavy pain medication, she didn’t argue with his decision. “Anything else I need to check?”

Max glanced away. Sighed. “I might have bled through the stitches on my lower back. Knife slice.”

“Max,” she said, glaring at him, “are you telling me that you walked through the jungle with cracked ribs and a knife wound and didn’t say anything?”

He shrugged, and she fought back the impulse to smack him upside the head. Instead, she lifted his shirt. The bandage was intact and there didn’t seem to be any bleed through, so she just applied a few more pieces of tape to secure it. “You know, trying to set a record for the quantity and variety of injuries sustained is really overkill, don’t you think?”

Max chuckled and some of the tenseness that had hardened his features while she worked eased. But she sensed that he was nearly out of energy.

“So,” she said as brightly as she could manage, “it looks like I need to drive, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, shit. Can you drive a stick?”

“Of course. Tactical driving was part of our emergency training. Although, I don’t think my father had quite this scenario in mind.”

He nodded and met her gaze. “Thank you. You’ve been amazing. I can’t imagine having a better companion.”

Touched more than she wanted to let on, Emily ducked her head and gathered the waste into an extra plastic bag. “So, what now? Head on as planned? Go back?”

Max pulled up his pants and rose to his feet. Emily held herself ready to catch him if he stumbled, but he put most of his weight on his good leg. “I need to find that plane. We’ll keep aiming for the way station. Then we’ll reassess.”

“Okay.” She replaced the medical supplies in the doctor’s sack and tucked everything safely away. Then she slipped behind the steering wheel. She had to adjust the seat so that her feet comfortably reached the pedals, then Max gave her a few pointers on how best to navigate the jungle.

“All right. Here we go.” Taking a deep breath, she eased the vehicle forward. Luckily, due to the rough terrain, she didn’t need to worry about shifting out of first gear. She did, however, have to steer around bushes and trees and head slightly at an angle to her right so they’d avoid the crossroads and the crater. Compared to earlier, the jungle was now deserted. Everyone had either fled, or was out on the main road tending the wounded. She wished there was something more she could do to help.

“Max, can you call your friends in the underground and let them know what happened? Or Dr. LaSalle? Make sure that the victims get help?”

“I will, once we’re out from under the trees. The satellite phone antenna needs an unobstructed view of the sky.”

“Oh. Right.” Adjusting her grip on the wheel, she did her best to steer them over the smoothest sections. But she hoped they reached the road soon, because wrestling this heavy vehicle with no power steering was
hard.
She wasn’t sure how long her shoulder and her upper back would last before spasming.

MAX WATCHED EMILY long enough to be sure she could handle the Jeep, then concentrated on ignoring the pain in his leg. When he spotted the road peeking between the trees, he ordered, “Put it in neutral and set the brake. It’s doubtful that the rebels are close by—we’d have heard gunfire or seen them if they were. Still, I want you to be very careful and go check if the road is clear.” He’d prefer to do the reconnaissance himself, but he didn’t trust his leg to hold up. “Look for vehicles, people, or obstructions in the road. As you approach, use the bushes and trees as cover. If you see movement, freeze. The worst thing you can do is move and draw attention to yourself.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

He managed a grin, although from the worried look she shot him, she could tell he was hurting. “This isn’t the Navy,” he corrected. “A simple ‘yes, sir’ will suffice.”

She rolled her eyes and saluted. “Yes, sir!”

Max lifted her hand from the gear shift. Bringing her palm to his mouth, he placed a kiss there. “You’re letting your inner smart aleck out. I like it.”

Her cheeks turned a faint red under the dirt covering her face. “Until recently I had to keep her tightly leashed, so watch out, there may be loads of sarcasm and other sharp statements ahead.”

He winked. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Emily shook her head and let herself out of the vehicle. He watched as she carefully made her way to the edge of the trees. They were far enough from the crossroads that not much debris had fallen, making the terrain easier for her to navigate. And yet… He frowned. She was still wearing those flimsy tennis shoes. Dammit, WAR needed to start stocking women’s shoes and clothing at the safe houses. Emily needed sturdier shoes, but even if they found a market nearby, they couldn’t risk stopping to pick up more suitable footwear.

Nevertheless, he should have at least insisted on checking her bandages earlier. He bet that trekking over the blast debris had reopened some of her blisters.

Emily paused, then stepped out onto the road. Max held his breath while she scanned both directions. According to the map, this stretch of road was a fairly straight shot, so she should have good visibility.

She gave one more look in each direction, then returned to the vehicle.