11
Reaper’sfeverish eyes practically glowed in the darkness. How could she have taken advantage of him like that? Let her stupid body take complete control of her common sense? He hadn’t wanted her—he’d been out of his mind with a fever, and she’d leaned into his kiss like he was Casanova sweeping her off her feet. Even now, her body tingled and ached from where he’d touched her. And despite where they were, despite his condition, shestillwanted him to kiss her. Wanted him to touch her.
How could she be so stupid?
From the look of horror crossing Reaper’s features, he was just as disgusted with the whole situation.
And then he stumbled, and shuddered, and all of her self-loathing dissipated. “We have to find a doctor now.”
“No, just the supplies. You can cleanse the wound.” His voice was full of gravel.
Panic started working its way around her. “I’m not a doctor or nurse or anything like it. And you are going to die if you don’t get serious medical attention. Surely we can find someone willing to help.”
His grip tightened and he yanked her roughly to him, his face hovering inches from hers. “Too risky. It has to be you. There’s a clinic on the south end of the street. Get me there, I’ll steal the supplies and then find us a place to hole up.”
He swayed drunkenly and Caroline’s fear ratcheted up another notch. “You’re in no condition to break into anything. Doctors are under an oath to take care of all their patients. They can’t deny you care. It’s against the law.”
“Wake up, little girl, you’re not in the United States. No one here has any obligation to save our lives, and they certainly won’t want to as soon as they figure out who we are. The doctors are controlled by the militia, and if they turn us over to the Americans, they’ll be handsomely rewarded. You can’t let anyone know we’re here.” Reaper let go of her arm so abruptly she nearly stumbled. His black eyes narrowed on her face and she waited, wondering what he’d say next. He reached for her hijab and quickly unwound it from her head.
“Over half this country’s Muslim. Use this as a headscarf to cover your face and hair. Keep your head down. Don’t look at or speak to anyone and we might make it.”
Her hands trembling, she took the material from him and did as he instructed, wrapping the scarf over her head in and around her face. “What about you?”
The long black robe covered his shoulders but stopped above his ankles, his height well above that of an average man.
He needed something more to camouflage his face and head, because there was no way he could be misconstrued as a local from any distance.
“I’ll get something from there.” Reaper took a step in the direction of the bodies, but Caroline jumped in front of him with a wild cry.
“No, there was another scarf hanging on the clothes line. If we start now, I can easily grab it.”
“It’s too risky. Just grab one from the pile.”
“That’s not a pile. It’s a graveyard, and we’ve already desecrated it enough.” She pressed her hands against his abdomen, keeping her stance just as firm as her voice.
“Stop thinking with your emotions,” Reaper said.
“I’m thinking like a human being. You need my help just as much as I need yours. I’m going back out to the clothes line.” And before he could stop her, she darted around him and through the window in the back.
Even though every instinct inside her screamed for her to run down the alley toward the clothes, she kept her head lowered and walked slowly toward her destination. Once there, she carefully pulled another scarf free before circling back and returning to the window. Reaper stood right where she’d left him, face pale and gaze stark.
He looked ready to pass out again. Was he still standing? “Here, let me help you.”
She held the black worn linen out in front of her, silently waiting on Reaper to lean down so she could drape the material over his head. She didn’t want him using that shoulder any more than was absolutely necessary.
With his gaze locked on hers, he crouched and she lifted her arms, gently draping and unwinding the material over his head. “It’s not perfect, but I think you can pass in the dark as long as no one gets a good look at you.”
Reaper gestured her over to the front door, the same one the soldier had burst through hours before. As soon as he grabbed the handle, she grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? We need to go out the back.”
Sweat had gathered and soaked the line of linen covering his nose and cheeks. She could practically feel his strength draining. “Come on, let me help.”
She couldn’t carry him, but she could bear some of his weight and act as a sort of crutch.
“If we’re spotted walking alone out back, we’ll be arrested. We have to try to blend in. Just do what I said and keep your head down.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all. We go out back and no one will see us. Go out there,” she hooked her thumb in the direction of the front door, “everyone sees us. It’s suicide.”
Reaper blew out a sigh, causing the material covering the bottom half of his face to billow out in front of him. “Who got you out of the compound?”
