Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,27
Fort Bragg.” She summoned her best, albeit crappy, Dr. McCoy impression. “‘I’m a doctor, not a vending machine repairman. I’m a doctor, not a plumber. I’m a doctor, not a doc—oh, yeah, that’s right. Pass the scalpel.’”
His mouth seemed on the verge of smiling, and at that moment, she would have given just about anything to see it happen. “Which do you prefer, old or new McCoy?”
That was easy. “Old McCoy. But I have to admit Karl Urban channels a mean DeForest Kelley.”
He made a low noise as he rubbed one hand over the thick beard stubble along his jaw. “I should have known. A traditionalist.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not an insult, just an observation. Am I right?”
“No, not really.” Decisive? Yes. Organized? Of course. But she’d never been one to cling to tradition, not even when she was a child struggling for normal after losing her parents. If new was indeed improved, she’d pitch out the old without a second thought. However, that wasn’t always the case, and she tried to keep an open mind. “As much as I like the original Lieutenant Uhura, I think Zoe Saldana’s take on the character is an improvement.”
Wade watched her for a lingering moment, an odd expression on his face, as though he stood at a fork in the road and was undecided on which path to travel.
“Thank you,” he said at last, and she found the deep rumble of his voice oddly soothing. “For not making a big deal out of…you know.”
Yes, she did, but she shrugged it off because she knew that was what he wanted. It would make him less uncomfortable. Those scars were probably the only things in his life that he was insecure about.
She mustered a smile. “Just doing my part to make sure we get out of here in one piece.”
“You will. I promise.”
She wanted to believe him, she really did. But even if she made it safely back to the States, there was always the chance that Aranza could send somebody to kill her. Or worse, try to get to her through the people she loved. He’d taken her passport; he knew her real name. For a man like him, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where she lived. More likely than not, she’d be looking over her shoulder every day for the rest of her life.
Unless Wade succeeded with his plans. She wasn’t comfortable with the feeling that came with hoping he committed murder. It placed her in murky moral waters that she wasn’t fond of navigating.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Hector stir, and she silently welcomed the distraction. As the haze of sleep lifted, his eyes fluttered open. Then he stretched his arms and yawned.
“Get some sleep?” Wade asked.
“Yeah, a little.” His gaze traveled from Wade to her. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important. I changed Wade’s bandage and we talked a little Star Trek.”
Hector squinted. “Star Trek?”
“Long story.” Wade checked his watch and he crossed to where he’d set his backpack and shotgun. “Now that you’re awake, we need to get moving. There’s only a few hours of daylight left.” He looked to Hope. “Think we have enough time to make it to that waterfall you mentioned?”
“I’m not sure. It’s coming up soon, but I wasn’t keeping track of time when I passed it before.” There was a path near the waterfall that marked the upward climb into the mountains. From there, it was less than a day’s hike to Aranza’s compound. Knowing they weren’t far from their final destination sent a ripple of dread through her.
As if sensing her unease, Wade touched a hand to her back, and the heat of his skin seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt. “If we make it there before sunset, I’ll cook us a real meal for dinner.”
That got her attention. The prospect of eating something other than meal bars and jerky made her stomach gurgle. “What kind of real meal?”
“Nothing fancy. I think I have some canned meat in my pack. I could make it into a stew.”
Her stomach gurgled again, and she prayed it wasn’t loud enough for Wade to hear. “Can we have Jolly Ranchers for dessert?”
His lips pressed together. “You already ate your after-dinner Jolly Rancher.”
“Yeah, I know. I was hoping you forgot. Can’t blame a woman for trying.”
Chapter 8
As the day wore on, the tree canopy thinned, and dappled rays of light peeked through the growing gaps in vegetation. Amid the chatter in the