“No shit, Sherlock.”
Ash blew the remaining tiny, playful crystals from his hand, then focused back on the flames. A spot of cheer in this colorless setting. “They’reinthe mountain.”
Deegan blinked and slowly turned to take in the ridge rising behind them. “How the hell’d they get in there?” he asked, doubt lacing every word.
“You ever hear of the troglodytes?”
The narrow-eyed look Deegan threw Ash’s way told him he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of an onsite history lesson.
“Cave dwellers, Deegan. In parts of France, even today, you’ll find homes carved from—” He broke into a smirk, leaned forward and gave the man a light smack to the shoulder, like a cat taunting a big, angry dog. “Don’t worry. I’m not about toactuallygive you a history lesson. Taking the piss, mate. No time to chat.” With a wink, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “While you care for your wounded, I shall find an alternate way in.” He considered the numerous ins and outs of the rock face, every one of which could be an entrance—or merely an indentation. “If I play my cards right, I’ll trap them inside and let you lot get home to your families.”
Chapter 7
It took two and a half hours to get to his hideout—twice as long as it normally did. By the time they arrived, it was close to midnight and the woman—Leo—was having trouble. As far as he could tell, only the walls kept her standing.
“What’s this?” she mumbled, squinting at the tight, low space he’d prepared for just this type of event.
“My getaway cache.”
“Cash?” She collapsed onto a stone ledge and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. “Oh. Oh, supplies. Right.”
He went to a natural shelf in the corner and pulled things out—first, the oil lamp, which he lit, then first aid supplies, rations, water.
“Sh…sh…” The woman’s eyes slowly opened, no doubt in response to the unexpected glow.
“What?”
“Shouldn’t…stop. Keep…going.”
“Not sure you’re in any shape to go on.”
“I’m fine.” Clearly a lie.
“Lemme check your head.”
“Mmm.”
She watched, eyes dull, as he set his supplies on the ledge beside her.
“Prepper,” she said, blinking slowly.
He huffed out a humorless sound. “Comes with the territory.”
Her brows rose, though even that effort looked extreme. “Territory’s that?”
The question wasn’t worth answering. Instead, he dragged out the bedroll he kept here and set it up in a corner of the cave. “Lie down.” Cozy it wasn’t, but they were a long way from comfort at this point.
From this point on, really.
She opened her mouth as if to refuse, apparently recognized how desperate her situation was, and shut it again. Slowly, as if her bones hurt, she pushed off the wall.
In two steps, he was at her side. She sagged against him, dropped her head to his chest, and moaned, long and low. Not a pleasant sound. Bo whined, clearly in agreement.
He put a hand to her back, hesitated, and when she didn’t react, wrapped his other arm around her. Just supporting her. “Here. Lie down.” Gently, he helped her onto the pallet. “Drink.” He held out a water bottle.
She accepted, managing a sip or two before she dropped her head in her arms.
“Let me see your eyes.”
