8 and Highway 163 connection. There are ten survivors, some critically wounded. Please respond, over.”
Her plea was met with the flat crackle of white noise. They waited a few minutes, and she repeated the message, with no success.
“Morse code might work better,” he said. “It can be heard at long distances when voice communication isn’t viable.”
She set aside the receiver, her hands trembling. Garrett understood how she felt. They were on an emotional roller coaster. The ups and downs were more difficult to stomach than a steady barrage of bad news.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.
She looked startled. “In this?”
“Sure. Let’s take her back to camp. We need the radio nearby in case someone answers. If she feels up to it, Penny can send out a call in Spanish.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said. Some of the despair drained from her eyes. “Let’s do it.”
He put the truck into gear, released the hand brake and stepped on the gas. They took a serpentine route back to the RV because there were so many obstacles. He parked next to the triage area, facing the north corner.
Jeb and Mickey would have a hard time sneaking up on this baby. Tonight, Lauren could sleep in the back while Garrett stayed up front.
When he hazarded a glance at her, he realized that she also understood the benefits. Her lips curved into an appreciative smile, as if he’d done something special. She seemed grateful, and he didn’t know what to say.
She was the one who’d fought hard all night, trying to save lives. He’d just thrown a few punches after falling asleep on the job.
He scolded himself for being flattered by her attention. There wasn’t anyone else she could count on. It didn’t take any skill to tap out an SOS code, or do the heavy lifting. But he loved the way she looked at him, as if he were smart and honorable and strong. He wanted to be that man, the superhero she thought he was.
“You must have been a good soldier.”
He’d been a Marine, not a soldier, but he didn’t bother to correct her. “I was okay,” he said, shrugging. Off duty, he’d been pretty dishonorable.
“How many years did you serve?”
“In the Marine Corps?”
A crease formed between her brows. “Were you in another branch of the military?”
“No,” he said, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “I served four years, two overseas.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I had PTSD.” It was the truth, but such a small part of the truth that it felt like a lie. “After my second tour ended, I was discharged.”
“Did you get treatment?”
“Not really. I refused to see a psychologist.”
She made a sympathetic face.
“I was kind of screwed up.”
“How’d you get better?”
“I met some other war veterans. They were like a support group. I also read a lot. I read Dune while I was recovering.”
“Really? That’s amazing.”
He didn’t see how, but it wasn’t polite to argue with a lady.
“What else did you read?”
“Lots of things.” He tried to remember some titles. Science fiction and fantasy were his favorites. He also enjoyed travel stories, wilderness adventures...anything to take him away from cold, hard reality. “Watership Down, The Stand, Lord of the Rings, White Fang.”
She smiled. “I’ve read some of those.”
That didn’t surprise him. Her eyes were alight with intelligence and compassion. She reminded him of some of the teachers he’d had in college. “It’s kind of ironic, but the last book I read was about a guy who got his arm stuck in a rock.”
“Aron Ralston? I read that, too.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. It wasn’t my usual type of story, but I enjoyed it. I’ll read anything.”
“If I find any books in the cars, I’ll bring them to you.”
She glanced out the window, falling silent. They hadn’t been able to sit down for more than a few moments at a time. Leisure reading wasn’t on the schedule. “Hopefully we won’t have to cut any limbs off to get free.”
He shouldn’t have brought up that Ralston book. It was a little grisly. “Do you want to lie down and rest?”
“No,” she said. “I have to check on Mrs. Engle again. I’ll see if Penny can come over here to monitor the radio.”
He had to get going also. “Let me show you how to do a basic SOS.” Turning the CB back on, he tapped three short beats, followed by three longer beats, and then three more short beats. “It just repeats. You can try different channels and frequencies.”
Before he climbed out of the truck, she reached between them, covering his hand with hers. The bandage, which had been snowy-white in the predawn darkness, was now dingy. Like everything else he touched.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve done a lot.”
Her hand looked small compared to his. Slender and capable, while his were clumsy, blunt fingered, brutish. She squeezed his palm gently, her fingertips sweeping over his thumb. The caress was innocent; his reaction, anything but.
He had to go now, before she noticed. “Can I have my hand back?”
She released it with a frown, confused by his rudeness. If she only knew. He muttered a terse goodbye and left the semi, walking away in discomfort. After putting several car lengths of distance between them, he slowed his pace, taking a deep breath.
That was close.
He really had to get ahold of himself. If he couldn’t control his thoughts, or his body’s response to her, he might not be able to control his actions. Lauren had placed her trust in him. He was supposed to guard her from the other men.
Who would guard her from him?
CHAPTER FIVE
AFTER LAUREN SAW to her patients, she checked on Penny again.
The teenager was having her hair done at Cadence’s “beauty shop” inside the RV. Penny was sitting on the floor in front of the bed, her hands cupped under her swollen belly, legs crossed at the ankle. Cadence was perched on the
