Page 77 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

“I left him to die.” Her whisper was shaky. “No one deserves to die that way.”

“He made decision after decision that put him in harm’s way. We tried to warn him.Youtried to convince him how dangerous that cave was. All he saw was...” Smitty paused, they weren’t alone, there were two paramedics in the vehicle with them. “His own strange fantasy,” he said finally.

She turned her head to look at him. Smitty was covered in dust and dirt and something else that made it all wet. Blood. “How bad are you injured?”

He gave her a hard stare. “Nothing close to your injuries.” He glanced down at himself. “Most of this blood is yours.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay?” he asked. “It’sokaythat all this blood is yours?”

“Well, it’s either mine or yours, I suppose, so yeah,” she said slowly, watching his mouth flatten and his hands clench into fists, but not understanding it.

“No,” he said, bending close so his nose was only an inch or two from hers. “No, it’snotokay.” He didn’t shout or raise his voice, but every word that came out of his mouth seemed to weigh a thousand pounds each. “There is no point in time where an injury to you iseverokay.” His teeth were bared again, and he looked ready to strangle someone with his bare hands. Probably her.

His frustration with her seemed to be his reaction to a lot of things she did or said. Like when they’d been in the Army and his job had been to keep her safe. In a situation where safety didn’t really exist. That goal was like writing a letter to Santa Claus and expecting a response from the Jolly man himself rather than a postal employee who replied to hundreds of similar letters during the Christmas season.

He was still in that mindset, as her protector. Could he see her as anything else?

Her eyelids drooped. Pain, exhaustion, and thirst were competing for her attention, making it impossible for her to focus on anything else. But there was something she needed to do before she got to the hospital, before they made her take off her dirty, torn up, bloody clothes.

She managed to get her hand into her pocket and pull out the two gold nuggets in a closed fist. She held out her hand to him.

“Can I get you to hang onto my house keys? I don’t think my clothes are going to survive the emergency room.”

He glanced at her fist, grunted, then let her drop the two stones into his cupped hand. He shoved them into his own jean’s pocket. “They’ll probably burn everything you’re wearing.”

“God, I hope so,” she let her eyes close and her body relax despite the pain. “I never want to see this outfit again.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. We’re going to have a long talk about this blasé attitude toward danger and injury to yourself.”

A tiny spark of heat broke up the exhaustion for a moment, and she looked at him. “What if I don’t want to?”

Red colored his cheekbones.Ooh, he didn’t like that answer. “You either talk to me or a psychiatrist. End of story.”

She found the energy to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not the boss of me.”

The ambulance pulled into the bay and came to a stop.

“Sir,” one of the paramedics said. She was so out of it, she wasn’t even sure who it was. “Come with me.”

Smitty gave her one more hard stare, then followed the paramedic out of the ambulance and into the hospital.

As soon as he was out of sight, she missed him. Damn it.

The paramedic came back to help his partner get her out of the ambulance and roll her into the ER. They were directed to an exam room where she was helped to move from the gurney to an exam bed.

Two nurses helped her remove her clothing, including her underwear, as it was all covered in dirt and blood. Then they gave her a sponge bath to get rid of most of the grime, and cleaned her back down a few layers of skin.

The doctor came in, the man who was covering for her, and whistled when he saw her back.

“How did you get this?” he asked, sounding either impressed or shocked. Maybe both.

Abby winced. “It’s a really long story and I’m so tired. Would you mind if I slept while you sew me up?”

“Sure, I’ll get a local anesthetic into your back right away. Sleep as long as you like.”

“Thanks Mike.” Smitty’s face surfaced, his worried, angry, frustrated face. “If Spencer Foster asks about me, go ahead and tell him everything.”

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