“I don’t want to hurt or scare you, but I need to give you a quick medical exam.”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t we just call the authorities now? Get away from here and let them take me to the hospital?”

“I wish it were that simple. Let me check you over, then I’ll explain.”

There wasn’t a hospital, some police, an explanation—and her father—in her immediate future? Based on what he’d said, she didn’t think so. That filled her with anxiety again. “What do you mean, not that simple?”

“Hey, no need to worry. Let’s tackle one issue at a time. The first thing I need to know is if you’re all right.”

“I’m conscious. I’m talking. I’m walking. And I want to go home.”

“I know, Mystery. I’d love to take you there. But with my two teammates dead, that presents some complications.”

Oh, wow. She hadn’t stopped to think of that. And what must Axel be feeling, losing two people he considered his . . . what? Coworkers? Friends? To help a woman he didn’t even know. “I’m sorry. W-were you close?”

His jaw tightened and he looked away. “It’s not important right this minute. I need to focus on you.”

Her father had once starred in and directed a military film about soldiers in Vietnam in a harrowing situation, against almost impossible odds. He’d actually interviewed a bunch of soldiers at her house, and she’d eavesdropped. She remembered them talking about the necessity of compartmentalizing until they dealt with the situation that needed immediate attention. Once everything was secure and they were alone, they would deal with whatever they’d shoved to the recesses of their mind . . . hopefully. Some never did; they simply locked their grief or stress away in a mental box tightly and threw away the key. It was why things like PTSD and suicides cropped up in the military community so often. Even those who dealt with it or got help sometimes still found it too overwhelming and couldn’t cope.

“If you were close to them and you’re upset, I . . . I know you don’t know me, but I’m willing to listen and help.”

Something in his face changed. A faint surprise registered. Apparently, he was used to being the hero. Didn’t anyone ever try to save him?

“That’s very kind, but the first thing I need to do is my job. You’re my primary responsibility. The other two soldiers were both my backup and provided essential elements to the rescue. Carr, the one in the exploding ATV, was our comm officer. When everything went up in flames, so did our ability to communicate with the outside world.”

Meaning that he didn’t have a way to just call the police to come out and whisk them back to Beverly Hills? He didn’t have a way to ask her father to come get her?

“You don’t have a cell phone?”

“Sure, I do. But there isn’t a nearby town or even a highway. In terms of mobile communication, this is all a dead zone.”

“So . . . I guess we’re walking to your jeep or chopper or whatever you came here in?”

His entire body tightened as he shook his head. Mystery got the distinct impression that he was doing his best to remain calm and not show any fear. That worried her more than anything.

“Alvarez, Carr, and I came in on a HALO jump. We didn’t leave behind a vehicle in case it could be detected.”

Sure, she’d heard the word, but she had no idea what it meant. “HALO?”

“High altitude, low opening.” When she frowned at him in confusion, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “We jumped out of a plane at thirty thousand feet. A plane at that altitude mimics a jetliner. By keeping the opening low, we don’t make waves on the radar. So just in case anyone is monitoring the airspace around here, it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary.”

She’d never thought of that. It had never occurred to her they wouldn’t just drive in with a small cache of weapons and do their thing. “Oh.”

“So the downside is, we have no vehicle. And since we lost our comm gear in the explosion, we’re going to have to hike our way to civilization.”

“The asshole holding me prisoner told me we’re surrounded by miles and miles of desert.”

“We’re smack in the middle of the Mojave. This is Death Valley.”

It was some of the most unforgiving land in all of North America. She remembered learning that in school after one of her classmates in high school had gone on a camping trip with some buddies and their rock climbing equipment had given out, leaving him stranded in a ravine. He’d dehydrated in the desert in less than twenty-four hours.

She tried to swallow back panic. “Do you know the fastest way to civilization?”

“Yeah. We’re looking at a fifteen- or twenty-mile trek southwest. But we have to be prepared for the conditions of the desert and to climb a few mountains. So the first thing I need to do is to examine you.” He took her hand. “Because I’ve got to be honest. Your skin is a little clammy.” He pressed two fingers to her carotid artery. “And your pulse is a little fast and weak. I need to make sure you’re just emotionally distraught rather than going into shock because of an injury. Will you let me check you out?”

Mystery understood clearly that if she wanted to see her father and home again, she was going to have to walk her way out. “Yes, Axel.”

He shrugged the pack off his back and took out a stethoscope, taking a quick listen to her heart and lungs. After a moment, he nodded as if satisfied before checking her blood pressure.

“One-forty over ninety-five. It’s high.”

Was he actually surprised by that? He stared as if he expected a reply. She just shrugged.

With quick efficiency, he attached a little device to her finger next.

“What is that?” Mystery frowned.

“A pulse oximeter, which measures the saturation of the oxygen level in your blood. I can also see your pulse rate.” He held her wrist in his enormous hand and stared down at the device. A frown wrinkled his brow before he smoothed it away. “Your oxygenation is on the low side, your pulse a bit high.”

“I’m more than a little freaked out.”

“Fair enough. I’ll check you again in a few minutes. Have you come into contact with any rusty metal or anything that might cause tetanus?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Any deep cuts that might need stitching or scrapes that need dressing? Infection isn’t your friend in the wild.”

In silence, she showed him a scrape on her elbow and one on her thigh, just above the hemline of her fraying dress. Without a word, he doctored them with some antibiotic ointment and covered them with gauze, his hands surprisingly gentle, despite their size. Then he paused and looked directly into her eyes. “The police equipped me with a rape kit. I need you to be honest with me. Should I administer it?”

“No.” She swallowed and shook her head. “Thank God, no. H-he threatened but didn’t . . .”

“That’s good,” he said in a soothing voice. “That’s really good. So you’ve prepared bottles of water?”

She showed him the canvas duffel and the eight full bottles she’d stashed inside. “Two of these are fresh.”

“That’s good thinking. Any food?”

“Just before you came, he left me a ham sandwich and an apple in a paper bag.”

“We’ll grab it. Do you have any shoes?”

“Stilettos.” She winced, then looked to the shoes she’d long ago discarded in the corner. Prada wasn’t doing her any good in the desert. “But I found this.” She held up the scrap of burlap. “I thought if I could find a rope, maybe I could rip this in half somehow and tie one around each of my ankles and—”

“It’s a good thought, but that’s not enough protection. Stay here.”

Axel stood and grabbed his rifle, positioning it for action as he slipped out the door of the shack. On shaking legs, Mystery stood and watched him creep across the desert to the body of his first fallen comrade. He knelt, keeping the rifle directly beside him, and snagged the man’s backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. Moments later, he lifted Alvarez in a fireman’s carry and headed back for the shack.