Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
My eyes focus on him. Why does he care so much whether I live or die? And more importantly, why don’t I seem to care?
Three bites. Maybe I can do it.
He nudges my lips open and puts something sweet in my mouth. Sluggishly, I mash it with my teeth.
Banana. At least it’s not a piece of hairy rat tail.
I was tough before I got here. Now I’m a victim, lying down and letting Marcelle try to kill me. What happened to me? I was asleep in the open, the easiest of targets.
“These two will be harder to chew, but they’re important.” Pax’s arm is warm and strong on my back. “You have to chew these or you’ll choke. It’s fish. Okay?”
I think I nod. He pushes one into my mouth, the fishy, smoky taste making me frown.
“There you go.” His voice encourages me. “One more bite, a little more water, and you can go back to sleep. I’ll be right here guarding you.”
I’m going to be late for work. Billy won’t let me eat for three days. I want to tell Pax, but I can’t get my mouth to make words. He puts another bite of fish in my mouth and I slowly work it with my teeth until I can swallow it.
The woman, Mari, tips the canteen to my mouth again and I take a long drink. She removes it.
“Can you do a little bit more?” she asks.
Not waiting for my answer, she returns the canteen spout to my lips. I take two lazy swallows before my head slumps to the side.
“Okay, back to sleep,” Pax says. “That was good, Briar.”
My pained cry as he helps me lie back is raspy. I have questions. It’s not safe to sleep. I can’t fight it, though. My body slides back into blissful unawareness.
“How much blood has he lost?”
“I don’t know...a lot.”
“Oh shit. What happened?”
I don’t recognize the first two voices, but I think the third one is Pax’s.
“Fucking jaguar got him,” a woman says, her voice steely with anger.
“Get his clothes off,” someone says.
“Here, let’s get him into this bed.” That’s Pax.
I open my eyes, grimacing as I try to get into a sitting position. I hurt everywhere and don’t have any strength.
So that’s not happening without help. I turn my head to the side. Several people are crowded around a nearby bed with the injured man on it.
“Start compressions,” someone commands.
“How long has he been down?” Pax asks.
“I don’t know. I mean, the jag took him down...maybe forty minutes ago. It took us almost ten minutes to get him away from it.”
“Ten minutes?” Pax practically roars.
A few seconds of grim silence pass.
“We were afraid of hurting him. I take full responsibility.”
“Goddamn right you do. You do compressions on him yourself, Maxwell.”
“Yes, sir.”
“His legs are turning blue,” a woman says flatly. “It’s too late.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Pax snaps. “You do compressions for the next twenty minutes, Maxwell.”
I’ve never seen Pax like this. The normally easygoing commander paces away from the bed and back again, hands on his hips.
“How the fuck did this happen? A hunting party of six fours should be bringing back a dead jaguar, not a dead team member.”
“It wasn’t an average jaguar, sir.” The man says the words so softly I hardly hear them. “It was on us before we even heard it.”
Pax scoffs. “You’re not average soldiers. And you let a goddamn cat spend ten minutes tearing Carpenter’s guts out.”
I can only see Pax’s back and the profile of a woman who hangs her head, wiping tears from her cheek.
“Get the fuck out of my sight.” Pax’s voice is low and menacing. “I’ll discuss this with Commander Marsden and send for you. Wait in your rooms.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Before Pax can turn back to me, I move my head and close my eyes. I don’t want him to know I overheard that.
My heart pounds so hard I swear it must be visible through my chest as I pretend to sleep.
“Bree, send for Luke and Colvin,” Pax says. “Tell them to relieve me here so I can go to a meeting.”
“Yes, Commander.”
I relax and try to slide back to sleep, listening to Maxwell counting softly as he does compressions on a dead man.
The next time I wake up, bright sunlight is streaming in through the open windows of the infirmary. A bald Black man is sitting where Pax was, his gaze shifting from the window to me as I start to sit up.
It’s not easy, but I manage. The pain is only a fraction of what it was before. My ribs are a little sore, but not broken. I was sure I had at least one broken rib.
“How long have I been in here?” I croak, reaching for the canteen on the table beside the bed.
“Uh...you woke up yesterday. You slept for two days before that.”