Pure Dynamite (21 page)

A movement caught his eye. Lyle? Careful not to wake her, he turned his head . . . just as something black and shiny slithered into the shack.

Chapter Nine

The large black snake was either searching for dry ground or a spare mouse. Perhaps both. Its effortless glide across the muddy ground halted as it sensed Adam.

The creature froze, but instead of retreating, it spit out its forked tongue a few times and copped an attitude. It considered them trespassers.

Thunder exploded shaking the ground and releasing an onslaught of hail. The ice chunks hitting the roof sounded like a barrage of gunfire. Renata jerked awake, frightened and disoriented.

"Shhh." He sought to calm her.

While it was actually the middle of the afternoon, the storm had darkened the sky, making it appear like night outside. The unsteady light from the lantern did little more than shroud the room in shadow.

"We have a problem here." Adam kept his eyes on the snake. Detecting movement, the creature had stalled its head raised alert.

"Problem?" Renata had just become aware of his hand beneath her shirt. She scrambled to get to her feet, but in her haste, she cracked him squarely in the chin with the crown of her head. The force of impact tumbled her back down in his lap.

Adam swore, seeing stars. He knew by the way she winced that she had suffered from the blow as well.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" she snapped. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"You had my hand pinned."

She tried to rise again. "That is the lamest—"

He tightened his arms to keep her from head-butting him again, then quickly located the snake. It had moved away, toward the corner.

"Are you afraid of snakes?"

"If you're trying to throw me off, it won't work." She twisted to glare at him, saw him staring over her head. "Oh, God. You're not kidding, are you? Where?"

"There. It's not poisonous," Adam assured. "And it's as scared as you are."

"He doesn't look scared."

Her choice of pronoun amused Adam. "Look at his head, then, and—"

"I hate snakes. Especially their heads." Shuddering, she buried her face in his neck as she drew her legs onto his lap. "Get rid of him."

That she had Adam virtually pinned in place didn't seem to register. He hugged her close, surprised by his own reluctance to let her go. But to get rid of the snake he had to stand.

"You'll be safe right here." He tucked her behind him and moved toward the snake, which had slithered to the opposite wall.

Cornering it, he forced the snake to retreat the same way it had entered: the gap beneath the door. When the snake's tail disappeared, he placed a rock in front of the door in hopes of discouraging its return.

He moved back to where Renata stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. But before he could say anything, thunder burst, this time with a fierce show of lightning.

Lyle moaned, drawing their attention. He shoved away the blanket, his frame wracked with tremors. "Water," he rasped.

Renata saw the saturated bandages and scrambled to his side. "He's bleeding again. Get the supplies."

Adam watched as she took his temperature. "Fever?"

"One-oh-three-point-one. Something's cooking." She pulled away the bandages. "He's not responding to the antibiotic I've been administering, which isn't too shocking, given the circumstances."

Lyle roused. "Just... gimme a shot of penicillin."

"What I've been giving you is penicillin." She looked at Adam. "I need better light."

He grabbed the lantern and moved it closer. She frowned not liking what she saw. "Infection is setting in. If I don't irrigate the wound and keep it clean, pretty soon it will become necrotic and I'll have to debride it."

Lyle coughed wincing in pain. "De-what?"

"Debride; scrape away the dead tissue to help it heal."

"Shit. Hit it with alcohol and stick a bandage on it. It'll be fine."

"Until your leg falls off from gangrene," she began.

"If you're going to tell me to go to the hospital— don't." Lyle closed his eyes, seemed to almost pass out.

"She's right," Adam said. "You won't get better under these conditions."

"Where's the phone?" Lyle dialed a number and waited. "Fucking answering machines." He paused before leaving a message. "Hey, asshole! I'm dying thanks to this pigsty we're staying in. Call me."

The phone slid out of his hand. Adam caught it before it landed in the mud.

"He better call back soon," Lyle muttered.

Outside the storm hit its peak. The wind raged buffeting the walls. Adam worried that the shed would collapse. They had to leave. He picked up the phone to make his own call just as it rang.

He answered with a curt, "Hello."

The caller breathed into the phone, but said nothing. Adam's temper flared. "Damn it, this is no time to play games."

Lyle roused. "Is it Nevin?"

A gruff voice came across the phone. "That my boy?"

Adam gripped the phone tightly. It wasn't Nevin. It was Willy McEdwin.

"Yeah, that's your boy. But he's not doing too well."

Willy swore. "Thought you had a doctor. Can't she fix him?"

"Not when he's sleeping in the dirt." Adam described their location. "The barn we stayed in yesterday was better than this. And I don't even have wheels to get him anywhere."

"Those goddamned idiots! Nevin set this up, didn't he? No matter. I'll get it straightened out. Then you can bring me my son."

"Good because
I'm
tired of playing nursemaid. I'd have been better off alone."

"Don't blow a gasket," Willy said. "I know you haven't been treated right, but I aim to fix all that. But first let me talk to that doctor."

Reluctantly, Adam passed the phone to Renata. "Take it."

Confused she pressed the phone to her ear. "This is Dr. Curtis."

"And this is Lyle's father. Don't mince words. How's he's doing?"

"Terrible. He's running a fever and needs stronger antibiotics than I've got. Perhaps you can convince him to go to the closest emergency room."

"That's not an option. They'll pack him off to the nearest prison ward and I know what kind of medical care he'll get there."

"You don't understand," she began again. "Anything short of going to a hospital could ultimately mean a death sentence."

"Yeah.
Yours.
You better make damn certain he survives."

The man's threat was clear: if Lyle died so did she. She glanced at Adam. Did his promise to keep her safe include protecting her from Lyle's father? She doubted it. After finding his hand up her shirt, she doubted all of Adam's intentions.

Two things were clear: She didn't want to die. And as much as she despised Lyle, she didn't want to see him dead either. Her job was to save lives. All lives.

"Just tell me what you need medicine-wise," Willy continued. "And I'll get it."

"The drugs I need are controlled substances."

"Not a problem. I can get anything."

His cavalier attitude maddened her. Still she rattled off supplies and spelled the names of several stronger antibiotics. "I may need to try more than one before he responds."

Willy repeated the list. "If that's it, let me talk to my son."

She knelt beside Lyle and pressed the phone to his ear. "It's your father."

"Pa!" Lyle groped for the phone, a near smile hovering on his face. It faded as he grew quiet, listening.

Then his face reddened. "How was I supposed to know that? Nevin should have told me."

Adam moved closer, not caring if anyone knew he eavesdropped. He heard nothing as Lyle abruptly ended the call, then flipped his middle finger at the phone.

"Problems?" Adam asked.

"Timing." Lyle took a deep breath, clearly agitated. "He said I've complicated things."

"What things?"

"His almighty plan." Lyle tried to lift his head. "He's
...
he's pissed because the FBI has agents crawling out of the goddamned woodwork looking for us. Guess they're causing headaches for him. Like I can control what the FBI does!"

Adam could guess Willy's
almighty plan:
to blow something up. The question was what. And how much did Lyle know about it? Up till now the kid had maintained a poker face when it came to Willy. He'd fooled them all with his laments of missing his family. Hell, he'd even withstood the guards' abuse without talking.

But Adam knew if he pressured Lyle in front of Renata, he'd clam up. Better to let the subject drop. For now. "We'll discuss it later. I'll get you some food."

Lyle shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I need water though." He fumbled beneath the blanket and withdrew the bottle of painkillers.

Adam discreetly counted how many tablets the kid took. There were unwritten rules about a prisoner's drug usage. First and foremost, you never questioned anyone's habit. The choice to abuse drugs was considered as sacred as the choice not to.