Page 96 of Lethal Game

“There is a doctor over there—” he pointed at Sophia and his men, silhouetted by the light coming from her lab tent “—who is trying to discover what is causing the illness and death here. So far, she’s failed. She needs samples of the stuff you cough up from deep in your lungs. She also needs a tiny bit of the fluid that will need to be taken from your spine. The spinal sample will hurt. I can’t guarantee you will get better, or you will live.” He stopped talking and surveyed the many, many eyes watching him. “But these fluids might be able to tell her what’s killing you. Is anyone willing to give me the things the doctor needs?”

For a moment, the stillness in the tent was absolute.

A hand rose from a row of cots at the outer rim of the tent. “I,” said a man, sounding weak. “I will give.”

Another hand rose and the words were repeated.

Another, and another, until nearly a quarter of the people in the makeshift hospital had their hands in the air.

For the first time since they arrived earlier that morning, Con saw hope on the faces of the dying.

He strode over to Dr. Blairmore, who looked fit to be tied. “Doctor, I’ll send Dr. Perry over to collect the samples she needs from the volunteers.”

“The local headmen were very specific, no more samples...”

“You told us no samples from the dead. These people aren’t dead. At least, that’s what I think it means when someone raises their hand and says in a recognizable language, “I will give.” What do you think?”

The doctor swallowed hard. “Yes, I suppose...but what if—”

“Doctor, we’ve got enough difficult realities. We don’t need to start worrying about thewhat ifs.”

Dr. Blairmore leaned close and whispered, “Some of these men are very dangerous.”

“So am I,” Con whispered back.

“If you insult the wrong men,” Blairmore said hoarsely. “We’ll be the targets after you leave.”

“We brought a lot of food with us, Doctor. That will buy a lot of good will.”

The doctor’s sour face only looked more pinched.

Con patted his shoulder then walked past the other man and returned to the lab tent. Sophia was adding supplies from a box to the first aid bag in front of her. “I got you about fifty different volunteers.”

Her jaw dropped. “I only needed two or three.”

He grinned. “Merry Christmas. What do you need to get your samples?”

“I’ve got everything here.” She patted the bag.

“I told that idiot Blairmore you’d be collecting the samples yourself.”

“Idiot?”

“He’s scared to death some warlord is going to shoot him.”

“Is it justified?”

“Only in the sense that if he doesn’t start cooperating,reallycooperating, I might shoot him myself.”

Sophia didn’t bat an eyelash. “I’d offer to loan him my body armor, but I don’t think it would fit.”

“Yeah, his hat size is a lot smaller than yours.”

She laughed, a throaty, happy purr that speared him in place and held him immobile. It set fire to his muscles in a way he thought he’d lost a year ago, a fire that carried no grief or worry, a fire that gave him joy and...one hell of an erection.

Fuck.

“So,” she said, her eyes smiling at him. “How are we going to do this?”

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