Page 54 of Lethal Pursuit

She didn’t want to leave him. Everything in her cried out in protest.

He gave her a gentle nudge. “Go on. It’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. Try to get some sleep if you can.”

Sleep here? Not freaking likely. But the exhaustion was an overwhelming weight on her weary body, dragging at her.

Gathering her courage, she stepped away from him, immediately mourning the loss of his touch as she entered the unknown of the women’s quarters.

EIGHTEEN

ALTHOUGH SHE’D VOWEDto stay awake, Maya finally lost the battle and dozed. The coughing woke her from a deep and dreamless sleep.

One moment she was under, the next she was hacking uncontrollably. Maya rolled on to her side and braced for the pain as it tore through her. She coughed so hard it made her stomach roll. She gagged, gasping for breath, and when she finally got a chance to breathe, she collapsed onto her side in a trembling, sweaty mess.

She heard movement beside her and snapped her eyes open to find a shadowy face peering down at her. It was dark in the room and she was disoriented enough that it took a moment to remember where she was. The thin pallet she lay on cushioned her from the hard dirt floor, and someone had placed a woolen blanket on her during the night.

A wrinkled face hovered over her, soft words that Maya didn’t understand coming from the old woman’s lips. She placed a hand behind Maya’s neck and brought a cup of warm tea to her lips. Maya gave in and took a few sips. God, she hurt all over. Even her bones ached. And she was freezing, despite the heavy wool covering her.

Even with the coughing fit over for now, it was hard to breathe. Her chest felt tight, like her lungs were closed up. Exhaustion pulled at her, sapping the strength from her muscles until she had no choice but to relax into the old woman’s care. She said something to another person in the room, and a young girl appeared at her side. Around eight maybe. The girl’s face looked worried as she watched Maya.

Maya reached down to ensure her weapon wasn’t within the girl’s reach and discovered it was gone. A moment’s panic hit her before she calmed herself. These people weren’t going to kill her. She didn’t think, anyway. If they’d wanted to do that, they’d had ampleopportunity while she’d been sleeping. Unless they’d somehow alerted Khalid of their presence and were planning to keep them here until he showed up?

The girl continued to stare at Maya. She lifted a tentative hand and laid it on her hair. Maya stayed very still, partly from surprise and partly so she didn’t scare the child. A moment later, that small hand began stroking her hair, then she felt a tug at her scalp and realized the girl was brushing out her hair gently. Maya closed her eyes, fighting the upsurge of emotion. Pilar had done this whenever she was ill, to soothe her.

She lay there, taking shallow, wheezy breaths while the girl pulled the brush through her hair, and when the old woman came back and placed a spoonful of something to her lips, Maya opened her mouth. She made a face at the sharp bitter taste of whatever it was but swallowed. The woman made a kind of encouraging, crooning sound. The rough, dry hand she placed on Maya’s forehead felt blessedly cool. Too tired to stay alert, she didn’t even fight it when the dark wave of sleep rushed at her and pulled her back under.

* * *

THEY HAD YETanother big problem on their hands.

It had been more than a day since Maya had gone into the women’s quarters, and she hadn’t come out once. Jackson had heard her coughing through the night from where he’d slept off and on, lying against the wall, taking quick combat naps because he couldn’t afford to let himself go deep and be caught off guard. The people in the house carried on with their normal routines and the old woman had brought him and Haversham their meals.

Once last night he’d insisted on checking on Maya; as much as it scandalized his host, he hadn’t taken no for an answer. He’d found her fast asleep, the fever burning in her skin. He hadn’t liked the sound of her breathing, a bit shallow and raspy. If he’d had a stethoscope, he knew he’d hear crackles and rales in her lungs.

Shifting on to his back in a shaft of early morning light coming through a slit in the door, Jackson debated what to do. The militants likely knew where they were by now, and if they didn’t, it was only amatter of time before they found out. Haversham hadn’t improved and wouldn’t until the bones in his leg were surgically repaired, and now Maya was too sick to be ambulatory. So he either left them here with their host and hoped the old man continued to offer his protection while Jackson set out to find a way to contact friendly forces, or he stayed here with them to face the militants when they showed up.

Given how desperate things were, the decision seemed obvious.

He rose, careful not to wake Haversham, who was dead asleep after taking a dose of poppy juice their host had given him. These people made their livelihoods off their goats and opium poppies.

The old woman looked up from her mending when he passed by the doorway to a smaller room at the back. She stared at him questioningly, and he pointed to where Maya was. Frowning, the woman pursed her lips and shook her head. Jackson pointed again, less patiently this time, and she finally heaved to her feet with an irritated sigh. He stayed outside the room just long enough for her to warn the other women and give them time to scatter, then entered.

Maya was curled on her left side in the fetal position and even in the dimness he could see how red her cheeks were. He kneeled beside her and put a hand to her face, not at all surprised to find her still burning up. Her breathing had deteriorated more overnight. There were full-on crackles every time she inhaled. Noticing the spoon resting on a dish near her head, he picked it up and sniffed it, smelling the bitter tinge of the opium.

Shit.

He turned to the old woman and met her wary gaze, then lifted the spoon and gave a sharp shake of his head. “No more.” Opium might ease her pain and make her sleep, but it was also a narcotic analgesic that suppressed the cough reflex in her brain stem and prevented her lungs from clearing. If she didn’t have pneumonia already, she would eventually if she didn’t cough up the phlegm gathering in her lungs.

Setting the spoon down, he leaned over her. “Maya. Maya, wake up.”

Her lashes fluttered. She drew in a raspy breath and started to cough, jackknifing up with a grimace as the dry, hacking coughs took her. He quickly movedin behind to support her, trying to take the strain off her ribs. Her gasping breaths in between fits made his heart rate accelerate. Finally, after what seemed like endless minutes, she shuddered and collapsed into his hold, her upper body against his chest and her cheek resting on his shoulder.

“What time is it?” she rasped.

“About an hour after dawn,” he responded, resting his cheek against the top of her head. He could feel her shivering in his hold and rubbed his hands over her gently. “Feeling pretty shitty, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t want to leave her when she was sick and defenseless, but the way he saw it, it was their only chance of getting help. “Baby, I’ve gotta go.”

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