“That is … unusual.”
He sniffed again, folding his arms. “It’s a family thing. We’re all named after earthy things—Stone, Brooke, Canyon, Willow, Leif.”
“Leaf?” she wrinkled her nose. “It would be like naming your child Dirt or Mud.”
He breathed a laugh. “Pretty sure I said that very thing to my parents. They did not appreciate my humor.”
What would Canyon think about this situation? He would no doubt tell Range he deserved it, then laugh his fool head off.
“We should get going. I want to find a place to hide out before sunrise.”
“Hide?”
“Too visible in daylight. Hike at night, sleep during daylight.” He straightened and looked at her arm. “How’s that doing?”
She shrugged. “It will heal.”
When he noticed the blood on her shirt, he indicated to it. “You should change clothes.”
Kasra glanced at the stain. “Oh, yes …”
He nodded to the vehicle. “I’ll stand guard so you can change, then we’ll get underway.” While she did that, he grabbed two MREs out of his ruck then positioned his ruck between the seats.
She climbed into the passenger side and frowned at his pack.
“For now, keep your arm elevated.” When she seemed to accept this, he tore open the MRE and handed it to her. “Not a gourmet meal, but it will keep your energy going. And constipate you.”
She frowned at him.
“It’s mostly protein,” he said with a shrug and started the truck.
They drove on hardpacked roads and even made their own roads in a few places over the next three hours. He found an abandoned lean-to and parked the SUV. He wiped it down and grabbed their gear, shouldering both packs so she didn’t stress her injury. Then as dawn began to push back the veil of darkness, they trekked over a rocky slope.
It took a while, but he finally located a small cave just large enough for them to stretch out and sleep. He laid out waterproof canvas to protect them from the damp earth. “Go ahead and get some rest.”
“You need rest, too. You have slept little the last two days.”
Surprised she had noticed or cared, he nodded. “Just need to rig a covering.” On a camouflage net, he threaded local vegetation into it, then used metal spikes to drape it over the opening.
Exhaustion tugging at him, he sat on his half of the canvas and couldn’t believe this irony. Arm beneath his head, he laid back, sliding his Sig to his chest, palm over it, ready to defend. He’d gone into Roud to bring this woman down … and now what? A team had been sent to neutralize them? Why? What did they think she knew?
The name.
She hadn’t given it up yet. Would she ever?
Did it matter now?
Abso-freakin-lutely. He wasn’t going to be shot at and run all over this godforsaken country for nothing. She would cough it up. Even if he had to force it out of her. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to use advanced interview methods to get a subject to cooperate.
“I have seen your kindness.”
She really hadn’t. Because he hadn’t shown it. That wasn’t him anymore.
She shifted onto her side next to him and her breath hitched. A hand went to her injury.
“Would a sling help?” he offered.
“What …?”
