Page 14 of Her Reluctant Hero
“No.” She folded her arms over the loose waist and dipped her head. “No, if he knew they were missing—”
“Someone you trusted?”
She shook her head. “If he found out someone helped me, it would be terrible for them. I couldn’t ask anyone for help.”
“Well, you’re not asking me.” He gripped the heel of her boot in one hand and untied it with the other.
She sucked in her breath when he tugged the boot, and he looked up at her. She was in real pain. This wasn’t going to be good.
Blood had soaked through the thick white socks—three pairs, she’d had sense enough for that.
“Jesus.” He peeled the socks gently, one at a time, feeling her tense with each layer. If there was this much damage after only walking this morning—the outer sock was little more than a rag—what were her feet going to look like? Hell, he knew. What he didn’t know was how he was going to deal with an injured woman in the middle of the jungle with no transportation.
He peeled down the third sock. Her ankle was so small he could wrap his fingers around it. It was ripped to hell, the skin over her Achilles tendon shredded and the flesh over her anklebone where the heel of the boot had rubbed. The tops of her toes—tipped with red nail polish—were raw.
He rested her heel on his thigh, then gave the same attention to the other foot. Only after he dragged his pack over did he look at her face. She had braced her weight on her hands behind her, her whole body tense as she stared at her feet.
“I thought nothing could hurt as bad as stilettos.”
That comment surprised a grin out of him. “Yeah, you wouldn’t look too great in them now.” He pulled out the peroxide, gauze and antibiotic lotion. “You’re going to have a hell of a time walking and we’ve got a long way to go.”
She stilled. “You can’t leave me here.”
He sat back on his heels and sighed. The objective had changed on the mountain—get her back to the States. But how was he going to make that happen when her feet were in this shape and he was on his own? He couldn’t protect her and get her out of here. He’d have to stash her until he could do both. “They won’t hurt you. We’ll get you to the road, they’ll find you, take you back.”
“To Santiago.” Her voice rose in panic. “If he knows I left on my own—”
He dragged a hand over his hair. “You tell him we took you.”
She shook her head violently. “He’ll know. There’s no way you could get in, and I’m forbidden to leave.”
“Ever?” He opened a new bottle of water, splashed a bit over each foot, soaking the thigh of his BDUs, and he passed the bottle to her. She took it but didn’t drink.
“In four years. I even—” She stopped herself, pressing her lips together.
“Even what?”
She shook her head, her gaze following a trail of ants on the jungle floor.
He cut a strip of gauze, cleaned her wounds with gentle swipes and dabs, applied the antibiotic and started wrapping her foot.
“If you give it an extra layer or whatever I could make it,” she said. “It already feels a lot better.”
“Your socks are bloody rags.” He looked up. “I have to send you back.”
“You can’t!” She shot forward and grasped his wrist. Her dark eyes were pleading. The kind of eyes that could make a man do anything. He turned his gaze down. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me.”
He pulled his wrist away. “Your choice. You went with him.”
She reached for her pack and dragged it close as he wrapped her other foot with less gentleness than the first, needing to get her away from him. But God, how could he make her walk on these feet?
“You’re not going to leave me all by myself?”
Damn, she was about to cry.
“We’ll find a village. I’m not going to leave you in the middle of the jungle. But even that won’t be easy.” He held out his hand. “Give me that.”
She pulled her pack closer, protective, wary.
