Page 38 of Resisting His Target
And he had. Worse still, he knew he’d do it again if she gave him half a chance. He couldn’t be trusted around her, his idiot mind intent on throwing himself in front of that bus again and again, reason be damned.
He eyed himself in the mirror. He should be happy.
He dropped his chin to his chest. This was dangerous territory, the one road he knew for certain he never wanted to travel again. Relying on other people for happiness was a fool’s game he could never win, an illusion, and that made Jacqueline Desjardins more hazardous to his well-being than the roadside bomb that had changed his life forever.
22
Jackie walked beside Razorback in the hundred-and-four-degree heat, thinking about their conversation and not saying a word. The sun was directly overhead like a broiler on a steak, the air so full of moisture the breeze from her movement wasn’t even refreshing. There was only sweat and more sweat, her clothing saturated, her body wretchedly hot.
She wore lightweight camouflage clothing and a hat Cowboy had given her when he picked them up at the river. A pair of leg covers came up to her knees to protect her from poisonous snakes, an accessory she felt certain raised her body temperature exponentially.
The day was an abstract blur punctuated by brief periods of extreme clarity, from the cloyingly warm water of the black Rio Grande seeping between her life vest and her skin, to the smell of the dry sand baking beneath her feet. And through it all was Razorback, ready to hand her the next thing she needed, always leading the charge, never saying anything that actually mattered about last night or what—if anything—had changed between them.
All along the trail was evidence of those who’d come before—empty water jugs, pieces of clothing. Jackie tried not to imagine the people who’d left them here, tried not to wonder if they were dead or alive.
“Do you need a break?” he asked.
She would have given up chocolate for life if she could sit down and put her feet up for an hour. “How’s our speed?”
“A little over a mile and a half an hour.”
Damn it. She was sure she’d sped up after the last time she’d asked. “We have to go faster.”
“You can only push your body as far as it will go.”
“Yeah?” She passed him. “Is that what they taught you in boot camp? Just give up?”
“Not boot camp. BUD/S. Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL.”
Even the smallest increase in her effort felt like she’d gone from a crawl to a full-out sprint. She felt faint. “But the message was the same. Quit.”
“We were taught to understand our own physical abilities and limits. Take you, for example. Right now, you’re determined to move as quickly as possible through the heat of the day. You haven’t had a drink in almost a mile, and you’re dehydrated. Are you dizzy?”
“No,” she lied.
“Are your legs cramping up? Because once they do, they’re going to hurt you the rest of the way.”
She should probably have some water. “They’re fine.”
“Ever hear of the tortoise and the hare?”
She stopped abruptly, putting her hands on her hips and dropping her head. “How many miles?”
“Eleven down, twenty-nine to go.”
She crumpled to the ground. “Oh, sweet mercy.”
He knelt beside her and passed her a straw from the water bladder in his pack. She sucked greedily at it, the liquid magically cool and wonderful. “Thank you.”
“We need food.” He took off the pack and unzipped a pocket. “I have peanuts, granola bars, or beef jerky.”
“Granola.” She bit into it, which tasted better than any food she’d eaten in her life. “It’s good.” She finished it in four bites and went back to the straw for more water. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.” He was just as sweaty as she, but other than that, he looked like this was no more difficult for him than an easy Sunday stroll. “I understand you’re frustrated.”
“Not frustrated. I’m scared, more than anything. I keep trying not to think so I don’t imagine what can go wrong.”
His head jerked to the side, his eyes staring into the distance.
