They’d done a lot of damage at the military outpost, killing or wounding scores of men. No one challenged them when they climbed into the truck and tore into the desert. The one called Iceman tended to Nick, injecting him with something and inserting an IV drip. He couldn’t do much in the truck other than stabilize his teammate. Another soldier tended to her. He grinned and told jokes while he worked. It didn’t stop the pain, but it kept her distracted until the painkillers kicked in. Emily stayed as close to her side as possible. She’d retreated into herself, rocking back and forth and shaking her head as if trying to shake out the memories of what had just happened. She kept repeating “Oh God, oh God, oh God…” as if it would somehow make it better. Her hands had been cleaned, but she still had blood on her burka. There was nothing to be done about it just yet. Victoria reached for her hand, and Emily clung to it like a lifeline.
