Range grabbed his medkit. “Here. Let me look at that.”
“No. I am okay.”
“Bullspit. It’s seeping. If I don’t clean it, infection could set in.”
She lifted her jaw. Said nothing but angled around so her arm was nearer.
Range removed the bandage and eyed the entry wound. “The liquid stitches didn’t work.”
“Because you nearly yanked my arm off.”
He owned that. His fault but she shouldn’t be touching him?—but he wasn’t opening that can of worms. Instead, he took out a needle and thread.
She drew in a quick breath. “Can you not just use more of the—”
“Can’t risk it tearing open again.” He propped his ruck and angled her arm over it. “Just relax.”
“Do not take too much pleasure in making me hurt again, yes?”
Range bounced his gaze to hers, feeling the sharpness of her words. Knowing it was his own fault. He applied a topical anesthetic and began stitching, knowing this stung like heck. Yet she only tightened her lips more. Fisted her hand. She was tough, he’d give her that.
Ten years … ten years enduring men like him, she’d said. A decade. That was a long time. Almost as old as his nephew, Owen.
“How do you know this Zaki guy?” he asked, as he worked.
“Family”—she grunted and grimaced—“friend.”
Not surprised, again, at her vague answer, he tied off the stitches and snipped the thread. Added an antibacterial and bandaged it. Handed her some ibuprofen.
Once nighttime overpowered daylight, they set out eastward, guided by a good old-fashioned compass. Crossed a small creek, and skirted around mud-plastered cluster of homes. No market. No shops.
“Are you going toborrowanother car?” she asked wearily as they kept moving, stopping only a few times for bio breaks.
“If the opportunity presents itself.”
“What is the plan, once we got documents?”
“Cross the border into Pakistan as soon as we can. Probably head to the UAE.”
“Yes,” she said with more than a little excitement. “That is near Saudi.”
Hiking, Range slowed, glanced over his shoulder at her. “What’s in Saudi Arabia?”
She drew up, but then averted her gaze. “Friends.”
The way she said, that certain pique to her voice … “You have friends in the strangest places.”
Kasra looked startled. “They have helped me in hard times.”
“What were you doing in Saudi Arabia?”
“I was not there,” she said quietly. “A friend here in Afghanistan married and moved there.”
“Most people would move to a location with a possibility of a career and providing for a family.”
“They went there three years ago,” she said, “to help be a part of the provisional transition and help implement the Constitutional Declaration.”
He grunted. “And they stayed after its collapse? And all the refugees …”
