“What do you mean?”
“Save your breath, woman, you’ll move faster.”
“Dalilah! My name is Dalilah!” Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes as she tried to run faster behind him, fear crackling at the corners of her mind. The scent of smoke was growing stronger and she could feel static in her hair—electricity quietly rustling everywhere in the dark. And her feet were already hurting, stones hard under the soles, grass cutting her skin.
He picked up more speed as the clouds seemed to lower even farther, and she felt a bullet of rain hit her shoulder. Big marbles of water suddenly began to bomb into the dry, dusty earth, the scent of soil was pungent, and she heard him curse ahead of her.
“Run,” he called out, breaking into a trot himself. “This is going to be a mother of a storm. We need to get gear and make for that river, stat!”
Gathering up what was left of her cocktail dress, feet sending sparks of pain up her legs, Dalilah ran as best she could. Raindrops were attacking them now, crashing into the earth, slamming into her head, onto her shoulders, wetting her hair. Wind gusted, thick with smoke from a nearby bushfire. Her hair was quickly plastered to her face.
Brandt reached a slope of smooth stone and began to descend rapidly ahead of her. But the rock was slick with water, and with no grip on her soles, Dalilah went down hard, smacking onto rock as her shoes slid out from under her. Her arm caught in a small crevice and torqued against her weight as she slid. She cried out in pain.
He spun around instantly, and swore. Dalilah couldn’t hold back the tears of pain that pooled in her eyes and ran with the rainwater down her face.
Frustration licked through Brandt as he aimed his flashlight at her face—it quickly changed to worry as he saw her complexion was bloodless, her eyes black, shimmering holes of shock and pain. Quickly he panned the light over the rest of her body. She was hunching over her left arm, her gold dress wet and glittering against the red rock.
“You should’ve let me carry you,” he said, crouching beside her.
“You were getting tired,” she snapped.
“That’s not for you to decide. Let me see your arm.”
But she kept her arm tight against her stomach. “It’s fine.” Rain pelleted down and thunder crashed right above them. They hadn’t seen the brunt of the storm yet, and in his mind Brandt could visualize the rivers filling, their window to cross the border closing. Urgency bit at him.
“Dalilah—give me your arm.”
She glanced sharply up at his use of her name, and she met his gaze. Something punched through his stomach, low.
“Let me see,” he said softly, taking her arm in his hands.
Her skin was slick with water as he felt carefully along the bone. She sucked in air when he neared her wrist.
“It hurts there?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
Brandt concentrated on the area, detecting a slight grinding feeling under her skin—crepitation. She had a fracture. Damn!
“Can you wiggle your fingers, move your hand?”
She wiggled, but not without obvious pain.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve fractured it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking truly frightened for the first time since the ambush at the lodge.
His tone grew gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll get you somewhere we can splint and bandage you up properly. There should be some first-aid stuff at the camp, maybe even some painkillers.” As he spoke, Brandt squinted through the sheen of rain, scanning their surroundings. “See that cluster of baobabs down there, below the cliff?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to leave you down there, with my rifle, while I run the rest of the way to the camp. Those trees are over a thousand years old—they’ll protect you from the worst of the storm. That cliff reaching up behind the baobabs—it’s the highest point of this terrain and it will take any lightning strikes. You’ll be safe there, okay?”
As safe as one can be out here.
“Brandt—”
Something in her voice cut through him.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been difficult, I’m sorry. Thank you—for coming, for saving me. I...I don’t think it’s really all sunk in until now.” She sounded beaten suddenly.
He nodded, instantly erecting his own emotional walls. He should be the one apologizing for being so brusque with her. But he wasn’t going to. He needed to maintain distance, and if she disliked him for it, so much the better. Because he needed her to focus. He wasn’t going to lose another