Page 5

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Right before the darkness took him.

When Reid next came to consciousness, he wasn’t alone and for that he was grateful. His saviour had tucked in beside him, a warm presence and a soft breath against his shoulder, her fingers loosely folded over his wrist as if she’d fallen prey to slumber while checking his pulse. The tent—she’d said she’d put a tent up around them—no longer strained against a brutal wind but there was still a heaviness in the air and an unnatural silence all about them.

He could wiggle his toes and move his legs. His fingers moved and so did his arms. He could think. He could breathe.

He still couldn’t see.

‘How long’s it been?’ Might as well ask. The body next to his had tensed as he’d run through his body check. He knew she was awake.

‘A while.’

‘Doesn’t sound as windy.’ The tent no longer shuddered beneath the onslaught.

‘I think it’s because the tent’s half buried beneath the dirt. The weight’s pressing in on my body. You got the good side.’

She moved. Levered herself up on her elbow, he imagined, because the rest of her was still pressed against him. He tried to imagine what she looked like and came up empty. He had no idea.

Was she married? He wanted to fold her hand in his again, bring it close across his chest and search for rings. ‘Will anyone mind if I never let your hand go?’

‘I’ll mind, at some point. But no one else is likely to mind.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Are you pretty?’

‘Does it matter?’ she chided.

‘That a no?’

‘Handsome, you are stuck with me in a tent in the middle of a desert in the middle of a dust storm and I’m just about to bring you food and water and you can’t see me. Do you really give a damn what I look like?’

Well, when she put it like that... ‘I’m Reid,’ he said.

‘I know who you are.’ She let go of his wrist and moved away.

‘No, wait!’ Panic set in, fierce and overwhelming. He flailed for purchase, grabby hands that would have grabbed but for the stabbing pain in his head. That keening sound in his ears? It was him.

‘I’m coming back.’ She put her hand to his chest and pressed down as if she knew his heart needed holding in place. ‘My ute’s not far away and even if I can’t see it for dust, I’m tied to it. I’ll get there.’ She fumbled with his hand and pressed it to her body. He could feel the knotted nylon around her waist. ‘All I have to do is follow the line.’

‘How will you get back?’

‘I found you, didn’t I? Went back for the tent, found you again and put the tent up around you after cutting the floor of it in half and tucking it around you. And if you believe that was fun or easy, I have a harbour bridge to sell you. I also have pain-relief tablets back in my ute. A few types. Does that sound good? Worth a round trip?’

‘Get them,’ he urged. ‘Give them.’

‘Let go of my hand.’

Now there was a problem. No way was he letting go of that hand, and he told her so using language his dear departed mother wouldn’t have approved of. In his defence, he was probably going to be reunited with his mother sooner rather than later and he could apologise then. ‘Stay.’

‘Seriously?’

Manhood be damned, he wasn’t letting her go. ‘’S dangerous out there. You shouldn’t go.’

‘What about the painkillers?’

‘Who needs ’em?’