Page 123 of Casualties of War
Adán gripped the edges of her chest plate and pulled her to him and kissed her.
Parris wanted to smack him for it, except she was dripping tears on him like a pathetic woman. She gave in, just for a moment and let herself rest against him. She stroked his cheek. “Don’t ever do that again,”she whispered.
“I’ll try,” he said. “Only now I’ve got to work against muscle memory.”
Odesky snorted.
“Shut up, corporal,” Parris told him, sitting up. “If you tellanyoneabout this, I’ll kill you.”
Odesky shook his head. “Figure this is patient privilege or something,” he murmured and lifted the pad. “In and out. Once it heals, you’ll have a real war wound to show off.”
Another missilewhistled and thudded into the cliffs, making the ground shudder. Fire was burning in the dried out summer grass and the westerly breeze was expanding the front.
“We should find safer ground,” Parris said, getting to her feet.
Odesky wound a bandage around Adán’s thigh, holding the pads in place. He moved quickly, competently. Then he jabbed a needle pen into his thigh. “You’ll love this stuff,”he told Adán. He snapped the pack closed and pushed it back into his thigh. “Up you come.” He held out his hand.
“I’ve got him, corporal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go help the others clean up.”
Odesky touched his forehead and hurried away.
Parris held out her hand. Adán took it and she hauled him to his feet and ducked under his arm. She kept the Glock in her other hand. “Step at a time,” she told him,as his weight settled on her shoulders.
“Story of my life,” he muttered. “God, that stuff is already making my head spin.”
“It’s meant to. Can’t have wounded soldiers screaming in pain on the battlefield.” She measured her pace to his. “We gotta talk, Adán.”
“About time,” he breathed, with a soft sigh. “Finish the job first. I’ll wait.”
“You can’t wait. There’s things you have to do, too.”
“After, then,” he said. His voice was wavering. He would be out on his feet in a minute. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” she said.
He sagged.
She waited until she knew for sure he was unconscious. She stopped and hitched his whole body over her shoulders and carried him that way. There was no need to bruise his ego more than she had to.
She couldn’t get the smile off her face as they finished themop up and set up a debriefing station for the survivors and began the post-operation processes. No one mentioned it, though.
* * * * *
Callan Davenport woke shortly after two p.m. He gripped Olivia’s hand with clutching fingers and she covered it with her other hand. “I’m here,” she told him.
He turned his head, taking in the people ranged behind her. “Just you,” he said hoarsely.
Olivialooked over her shoulder. “Give me the room, please.”
The doctor, the nurses, the agents and Doug Mulray all filed out of the room. Olivia waited until the sliding glass door closed and looked back her father. “We’re alone,” she murmured.
His fingers tightened. “I don’t know how much time I have.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him.
