Page 48 of Lethal Pursuit

Jackson eased Haversham off his shoulders with a low groan and propped the man’s back against the rock wall.

Haversham was panting and cursing under his breath as he stretched his wounded leg out in front of him. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled.

“Yeah,” Jackson whispered, reminding them to keep their voices down. Sound carried a long way at night out in the open. “Let’s hope there’s something in that kit to make you more comfortable.”

Maya unzipped the bag and pulled the canvas sides open. Everything was in shadows, so she stayed out of Jackson’s way as he rummaged inside it.

“Whoever he was, I fuckin’ love the guy who gave this to you,” Jackson muttered. “Here,” he said to her, handing over another pistol and full magazine. “There’s another one for me, but that’s the only magazine as far as I can tell. And there’s a canteen of water and some kind of jerky too,” he said, holding a bag up to see it in the moonlight.

Maya’s stomach let out a loud growl. She took the thin strips of meat Jackson handed her and Haversham and tore into them, chewing them only long enough to keep from choking before swallowing. The salty taste made her ravenous. Jackson was chewing on a mouthful of it when he passed her the canteen. She could have easily drained it in one long drink, but it had to last all three of them, and they were forced to ration it in case they didn’t find drinkable water before they made it back to friendly lines. After a few sips, she savored the feel of the cool liquid in her mouth and swallowed, her parched throat sighing in relief. She passed it back to Jackson, who brought the canteen to Haversham’s mouth.

“Blood loss is gonna make you damn thirsty,” he told him. “Take a few slow sips for now and I’ll give you more later.”

“Yeah, okay,” the Sec Def answered and swallowed the water obediently. His low moan of gratitude vibrated through the closed-in rock shelter.

Maya wiped her right forearm across her sweaty forehead. Now that they’d stopped and her body was cooling, the drying sweat made her shiver in the night air. It was bound to get much colder out here before the sun came up again. Being cold and uncomfortable was still so much better than being back in that hellhole. Still, the overwhelming sense of relief was shadowed by the knowledge thatthey weren’t out of danger yet.

“So tell us more about this guy who helped you,” Jackson said to her.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Not much to tell. He was behind me, and I never even saw his eyes. He told me if I wanted to live, I had to listen carefully. Then he shoved a pistol in my hand and knocked that kid out, telling me to get on the trail and head out here. Said to keep going until we hit the first village.”

“What’s at the first village?”

“No idea.” And she didn’t relish the thought of finding it, either. For all they knew, it could be a trap. But why would he release them, only to send them into an ambush? It didn’t make any sense, but anything was possible. Who knew who the guy was or where his true loyalty lay?

“And you’re sure he was American?” Haversham asked.

“American-educated, at least. Like I said, he didn’t have an accent at all. And it wasn’t Rahim. I would’ve recognized him.”

“So that was it?” Jackson prompted.

“Yeah. He told me all that and dragged the kid away, saying there were three men in the room with you guys. So I ran straight there and took them out.”

“Hell yeah, you did.” There was a smile in his voice.

“I was too out of it to really see what was happening,” Haversham murmured. “Wish I’d seen that though.”

“She was awesome,” Jackson said. “Now, let’s see what I can do for that leg.”

Maya kneeled next to Jackson, thankful to get off her feet, which were on fire from Khalid’s lashing and worse after the long hike. “What can I do to help?” All she wanted was to lie down and sleep, if her ribs would let her. She already knew they wouldn’t. Even in her sleep, the pain kept waking her, every unconscious sigh jolting her in agony. Injured ribs sucked.

“See if there’s a flashlight or anything in there.”

Feeling her way through the bag’s contents in the dark with her good hand, she found bandages, medical tape, a pair of blunt scissors, what might have been a needle and thread, and a little vial. “I think there’s some painkiller meds here,” she said, holding up theglass vial to him.

Jackson took it, squinting at the label in the thin moonlight. “Must be the fentanyl I gave you. Any syringes?”

She felt around again. “One, and a pair of gloves—maybe latex.” And since the needle wasn’t wrapped in a sterile package, it was probably the same one Jackson had already used on her. Could he even use that on another patient now? She handed the syringe and gloves to him. “Sorry, no flashlight or matches that I can tell.”

“It’s okay. I can bandage him up now, then give him a dose of fentanyl—if that’s what it is—at first light before I stitch him up.” He snapped on the gloves, shifted around and did something she couldn’t see, but Haversham’s strangled cry of pain told him he was already working on the man’s wounded leg. “Pressure dressing’s gonna have to do for now. Can’t elevate your leg with the fracture unset like that, but the good news is, the arteries seem to be intact.”

“How can you tell?” Maya asked. It was so dark she couldn’t see anything but black wetness on Jackson’s hands where the thin moonlight reflected off his surgical gloves.

“Because otherwise he’d have been spurting blood with every heartbeat this whole time.”

Oh. Right.

“Yeah, good news,” Haversham grunted between his set teeth.

---