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Rowena dashed away with the flashlight and filled the tea kettle with water. She checked the cupboard. “Oh, my God. They have Tetley!” Her eyes shone as if she’d found a great treasure. “Do you think they’ll mind if I steal a teabag?”

“Hopefully, they never find out.” He smiled reluctantly and slumped heavily onto a bench.

“Flick the light switch, would you?” He doubted the bulb over the sink area would be any more noticeable than the erratically moving beam from the flashlight.

It looked like a Jedi battle was going on in here, but he was too exhausted to take command of even something as simple as a flashlight.

She found the switch and slipped the flashlight into her back pocket.

He opened up the first-aid kit, relieved to find Band-Aids and a tube of antibiotic ointment. He shrugged out of his fleece and shirt, grateful for the cool breeze.

Rowena placed a tall glass of water in front of him, and he downed it in two seconds flat.

She got him another one and filled the bottles for the next stage of their journey.

He downed that glass as well, and Rowena filled it again.

He hoped to hell neither of them caught anything from the water they’d been drinking, but they didn’t have time to stop and boil every drop.

“Did you find any acetaminophen in the kit?”

He shook his head. She frowned and then checked under the sink, squeaking with delight when she came up with a second, much bigger, medical kit.

She placed it on the table in front of him and undid the clips. The bottle of painkillers looked as amazing as any uncut diamond. His hands shook as he fought with the lid.

After a few moments, Rowena took the bottle from him and twisted the cap down and off. She handed him two red tablets, and he swallowed them with relief and another swig of water.

He slipped the bottle into his pocket.

Next, he examined the furrow on his arm, which was festering nicely.

He poked the swollen, hot skin. Winced as yellow pus oozed out of the edges. Ugh .

“Stop touching it with dirty fingers.” Rowena sounded like she was scolding a naughty child.

She was worried about him.

He couldn’t blame her. Her white knight had turned into an anchor around her neck, dragging her down and holding her under.

She scrubbed her hands with soap and water. The kettle boiled, and she took a pack of gauze from the first-aid kit and soaked it with boiling water. Then she beckoned him to the sink.

He stood wearily, legs a little wobbly. He needed to shake off this funk. Hopefully, the drugs would help calm the fever, and he’d be able to think more clearly.

He winced as she pressed the cloth to his arm, holding back a hiss as she cleaned out the wound. Fuck .

The redness was all around the two-inch long gash.

Her eyes turned serious. Expression pinched.

He tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

Her mouth curved, unconvinced. “I was thinking how easily the bullet could have hit you or me somewhere fatal. They didn’t seem to care about keeping us alive.”

She pressed her lips together as if holding back tears, and he raised her chin and kissed her.

She sank into him and returned the kiss, made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Apparently, he’d have to be dead not to respond to this woman.

She pulled back, swallowed her very obvious fears about what had happened and what might still happen, and instead washed the rest of his arm with a hot soaked cloth.

He gritted his teeth.

“Sorry. It has to be done.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes flashed at him, and he suppressed a grin.

Once she was convinced the wound was as clean as possible under the circumstances, she let him sit, then she dried it off with another piece of sterile gauze before slathering on ointment. Then she placed a large Band-Aid over the wound.

He knew it might not completely solve the infection issue, but it was a damned good start.

He carefully pulled on his shirt and slipped the gun back in the waistband of his pants, packed up the smaller first-aid kit, augmenting it with some supplies from the larger one, which they put back under the sink.

Overheated now and a little bit woozy, he stuffed the fleece in the straps of the backpack and shouldered it. It was his turn to carry the load.

He tossed the litter in the garbage as Row quickly finished her cup of tea and washed the mug and placed it back in the cabinet.

Satisfied the room was almost exactly as they’d found it except for the garbage and missing supplies, they turned off the lights.

“What next?” she asked.

He heard the noise of a footfall on dirt a split second before a flashlight blinded his eyes.

Fuck.

He’d let his guard down. Forgotten they were nose-deep in shit.

He stepped in front of Rowena as he raised his arm to cover his face.

“Who’s there? What the hell are you doing on my property? Stealing?”

The voice was female and angry. He could make out the vague outline of a shotgun propped on the arm holding the light.

“I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to trespass.” Rowena stepped out from behind him even as he shot her a glare. Did she think this was a game?

Fear and anger rushed through him. She was going to get herself killed, and he didn’t think he could live with that.

“My boyfriend and I were hiking in the hills when Joe took a fall into the river, showing off even though he’d never admit it.”

Kurt scowled, in character as idiot Joe, but also for real.

“I fell in trying to help him, and we lost some of our supplies, including the map and compass. I tried to run on and catch them, but the river was flowing too fast.”

“Rainy season. Of course it’s too fast.” The woman sounded less angry though, caught up in Rowena’s story.

“Joe was stabbed by a branch, although he didn’t think to mention it until hours later.

” Rowena rolled her eyes dramatically. He didn’t think she was faking her nerves as her voice shook.

“W-we got lost and couldn’t figure out how to get back to the place where we’d left the hire car.

I think we crossed the border, although Joe thinks we didn’t. ”

Rowena was either brilliant or going to get them both killed.

“Could you tell us where we are, please?”

“As in, what country?” From the tone of the snort the woman obviously considered them both idiots.

“Yes.”

He slouched against the table and tried to look more like an insurance salesman than a Hostage Rescue Team leader. He didn’t want to draw his weapon and shoot an innocent woman. Wasn’t a hundred percent convinced he could hit the barn door let alone a moving target right now.

“You’re in Mozambique. That where you started?”

He shaded his eyes again as he looked at Rowena. “See, I told you we hadn’t crossed the border.” Because being right was the most important thing for Joe rather than keeping the sweet woman who was so clearly out of his league happy.

“Well, thank goodness for that.” Rowena hugged her arms around her waist. “I lost my bag in the river, and it had my passport, mobile, and wallet inside. I’m going to have to go to the embassy and get an emergency one issued to fly home.”

“Could you put the gun down and maybe get that light out of my face?” he muttered impatiently.

“Joe.” Rowena admonished sharply, and he almost laughed. “If we were in the US, the landowner would probably have already shot us.”

He pulled a face. Definitely a possibility.

“But you’re English, right?” The woman seemed to be softening to their story. Why else would two bedraggled people be wandering around in the middle of the country? Being on the run from mercenaries hired by one of the richest men in the world was too far-fetched for words .

“Not me,” he grumbled.

“Yes, I can tell.” The woman lowered the flashlight beam away from their faces, flicked on the light using her elbow on a switch on the wall near where she stood.

She was white. Mid-fifties—closer to his age than Rowena’s.

Jeans patched at the knee and a loose cotton shirt tied in a knot at the bottom.

“Joe’s from the US. I’m English. From Shropshire. Do you know it?”

“No. My great-grandparents were from Yorkshire. Settled here years ago and built one of the biggest citrus farms in the country.”

“Have you been back to visit at all?” Rowena was happy to have a polite conversation while someone pointed a presumably loaded shotgun at her.

“I’ve been twice.” The woman gave a mock shudder. “I didn’t like the cold.”

“You mind lowering that gun?” Kurt was used to live weapons pointed in his direction but someone doing it to Rowena pissed him off.

The woman hesitated.

Rowena sent him a look. “I hope you don’t mind. I stole a teabag and had a cup of tea while we cleaned up Joe’s wound. Joe has some money left to pay you with, right, babe?”

“That’s fine about the tea.” The owner waved the offer away, but her eyes sharpened on his face. “You have ID?”

Kurt inclined his head, slowly dragged his wallet out of a side pocket of his bag. He extracted the driver’s license belonging to his alias. Held it out.

Come to papa.

He left his handgun where it was, covered by his shirt.

He didn’t want to shoot an innocent civilian who had every right to defend herself and her property, but neither did he want to be detained or shot again himself.

If he could get close to that shotgun, he could disarm her and tie her up—raging fever or no raging fever .

Rowena snatched the license out of his fingers and walked over to the woman, holding the card at arm’s length.

He closed his mouth. Gritted his teeth.

The woman peered at the ID then nodded.

“I can understand why you’d be concerned finding us here like this.” Rowena sounded genuinely empathetic as she delivered his card back to him with a “behave” look. “I’d be terrified. If you point us in the right direction, we’ll get out of your hair and be on our way.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Beira,” Kurt interjected. “I forget the name of the hotel, but it’s modern.

By the beach. We sent our luggage ahead from the place where we were staying and are supposed to fly to Madagascar tomorrow night.

Rental car is in the bush somewhere north, but the company will have a tracker on it.

I’m not too worried. I paid extra for insurance.

Now we have to go to Maputo and sort out passports which will change our plans.

” Kurt tightened his lips. “Is there a bus or a taxi service we could call?”

“You don’t have any papers at all?” she asked Rowena.

Rowena shook her head, bit her lip nervously. “Not on me.”

The woman exhaled audibly. “The police will likely stop the buses coming from the direction of the border and same with a taxi. Without papers, you’ll end up sitting in a cell until they can verify your identity.”

Kurt swore. “I’m not leaving her alone in some police station in Mozambique.”

“I don’t like the idea of the police getting their hands on a sweet, young woman either.

” The woman gave him a look that judged him to be someone else who might be taking advantage of the sweet, young woman.

“I’m heading there in the morning with one of the trucks to pick up fertilizer.

Beira that is. They hardly ever stop me, and there is a compartment in the back of the cab under the bench seat that one person could conceivably hide in.

My late husband used to smuggle various things off the black market. ”

What kind of things? Didn’t matter. “Are you offering to give us a ride to Beira tomorrow?” Kurt held his breath.

“If you like, but it’ll probably be as uncomfortable as hell especially for whoever has to sit in the back.”

“Seriously?” He didn’t believe in this sort of good luck. “How much do you want?”

The woman’s lip curled. “I’m not asking for money or anything else for that matter.”

Her disgusted expression suggested she thought he was worried about having to perform sexual favors which, in his current condition was laughable.

It was a kind offer, but he didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust anyone.