She looked at the rock in her hand and back at the man. Could she knock him out? She’d never hit someone before. Well, except her brother but she didn’t think he counted.
This guy didn’t appear to be in any hurry to pick a direction and look for her.
Kinley tightened her grip on the rock and stood slowly. She eased out of the vines, carefully placing her feet down to avoid crunching any leaves or branches. The man turned suddenly and they both froze, surprised. His wide eyes narrowed and he raised the end of his rifle.
“Arrgghh!” Kinley swung her arm wide and smashed the rock against the side of his head.
A dull thunk and the man fell to the ground on his side, facing her. He remained motionless while Kinley stared down at him for several seconds, then looked at the rock in her hand. She dropped it and wiped her hand on her pants.
“Oh my god.” Guilt and remorse flashed through her. Had she killed him? No, his chest was rising and falling, so he was alive. A surprising amount of relief swept through her. There was no telling what the man had planned to do to or with her, but she didn’t know if she could live with having killed him.
He groaned. Panic flooded her and her arms flapped like a teenager in a horror flick. She kicked out and connected with his crotch. He groaned again, loudly, and curled in on himself.
Okay, not her most graceful moment and she was glad no one had been around to see her freak-out. She picked up his rifle and looked around. Putting it in her hiding spot might be too obvious and she had no idea how to use it. She grabbed it the barrel and flung it like a throwing axe as hard as she could into the foliage around her. It didn’t land far, but she couldn’t see it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be able to either.
She glanced around again. Now what?
CHAPTER3
“Kinley,” a low voice called.
More relief, greater than when she realized she hadn’t killed a man, rushed through her. “Here! I’m here.”
Shane appeared from the right and hurried to her. He looked down at the man on the ground. “You did that?”
“I hit him with a rock and then kicked him in the balls.” It sounded absolutely ridiculous. She might as well have said, “I carried a watermelon.”
Shane grinned. “Good girl.”
Pleasure at what should be ridiculous praise had heat creeping into her cheeks.
“Come on. We need to get back to the van.” He took her hand and broke into a jog. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Are you?” They reached the road and the van. The bodies of the other three bandits lay on the ground and blood pooled under at least one of them.
She swallowed hard. “Are they…?”
“No. Only knocked out,” he said matter-of-factly.
Was he telling the truth or telling her what he thought she needed to hear?
He wrapped a large hand around her arm and steadied her. “We need to go. The driver’s hit.”
A little light-headed, she let him lead her to the van. Jorge lay across the seat she had previously occupied. “Is he…?”
“No, but we need to get him medical attention quickly. I need you to help Oakley get the bleeding under control.”
She blanched and stopped at the door of the van, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do. I barely know basic first aid.”
“Oakley will tell you what he needs.” He helped her inside and slammed the door closed behind her.
Kneeling in front of the seat, her back to the driver and passenger seats, she stared down at Jorge. There was a lot of blood. The van lurched forward. He groaned and rolled his head.
“Try to get him to stay still,” Oakley said from the back row.
She braced one hand against the seat and nodded. “Okay.” She could do that. Gently touching his shoulder, she made shushing noises and told him to be still.
Oakley leaned over the seat and ripped open Jorge’s shirt, pressing a large wad of cloth over a gash on the side of his abdomen. There was another wound high on the right side of his chest.
