No One to Trust by Iris Johansen Page B

beside her and unbuttoned her shirt. “Just one look and then I’ll get out.”
    She sat ramrod straight, staring over his shoulder at the wall.
    “Not too much blood on the bandage considering the amount of movement, and the stitches held. Not that I’d expect anything else.” He buttoned her shirt again. “You said that you’d been wounded before. How many times?”
    “Badly?” She tried to think through the haze of heat and pain that was beginning to close around her. “One bullet wound in the leg when I was twelve. My father said it would never have happened if I’d been careful. Another in the leftarm when I was sixteen. I’d learned by then, and that one wasn’t my fault. A bayonet graze in my left side when I was twenty. This is the fourth.”
    His lips tightened. “Isn’t it convenient that you can mark the rites of passage from childhood to adulthood by the wounds of war? I’m sure not many women can do that.”
    “And how did you mark your rites of passage, Galen?”
    “You wouldn’t want to know. I’ll get some water for you to take the pills.”
    “I can get it myself.”
    “But then you wouldn’t get the pleasure of having me wait on you.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water. He opened the containers and handed her the pills. “Swallow them.”
    She stared at him defiantly but swallowed the pills and set the glass on the table.
    He paused before going through the curtains. “You have seven hours to nap and get that fever down. You wouldn’t want me to have to carry you off the plane in San Francisco. Think how humiliating that would be.”
    “I wouldn’t be humiliated. I’d take what I had to take from you.”
    He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You’d do anything for the boy, wouldn’t you?”
    “Anything.”
    “I could almost pity Forbes.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he went through the curtains.
    Elena lay back down and took a deep breath. She felt exhausted and she wasn’t sure if it was from the fever or dealingwith Galen. She had thought he was like the mercenaries she’d known in the past, but he was much more complicated. It was strange that he had tried to stop her from revealing too much about herself because he’d known she would be ashamed of the weakness later. She
was
ashamed. She should not have babbled. Fever, exhaustion, fear of what was to come, horror of the past … She should still have retained control.
    She would be stronger after she rested. She would push the thought of Galen out of her mind so that she could nap and be strong for Barry when she woke. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
    Christ, she hoped she wouldn’t dream of Chavez.
    “Is Elena all right?” Dominic asked as Galen dropped down in the seat beside him.
    “Not exactly fighting fit.” Galen glanced at Barry, who was now tucked under a blanket and sound asleep on a seat across the aisle. “But she won’t admit it. I think she’s been through more than she can handle right now.”
    “You’re wrong. She can handle it,” Dominic said. “I’ve never seen anything she couldn’t work her way through, and I’ve known her since she was ten years old.” He thought for a moment. “Well, once it was pretty close, but she found a way out.”
    “What happened?”
    He smiled. “You’ll have to ask her.”
    “Not bloody likely. She was with the rebel army when she was ten?”
    “She ran messages from one village to another when shewas younger than that. Her father didn’t start training her until she was a little older.”
    “Nice.”
    “He wasn’t the best father in the world, but as I told you, he had a good deal of charisma and he was an excellent soldier. A good teacher too. Elena was remarkably skilled in the arts of war by the time she was twelve. Sad …”
    “Couldn’t you stop it?”
    He shook his head. “I was a guest in their camp. If I’d interfered, the rebels would have thrown me out. It was