Free Prisoner (Werewolf Marines) by Lia Silver Page A

“I’m not uncuffing you. Lean out if you have to throw
up.”
    DJ opened the door and leaned out. Then he
jerked his left arm, snapping the handcuff chain. Echo was so
startled that he was already bolting across the sand by the time
she vaulted across the seat and after him. He was headed for the
rock formation, which would be full of hiding spaces.
    She didn’t know what surprised her more, his
strength or that she’d again missed his intention after he’d
flat-out told it to her. How did he think he’d survive, even if he
escaped? And how was he managing to run? He shouldn’t even be able
to stand up.
    Echo put on a burst of speed, determined to
catch him before he got into the formation. Ahead of her, DJ
slowed, then staggered. Fifty yards from the rocks, he dropped like
he’d been shot.
    Wondering if it was yet another trick, Echo
approached cautiously. As she came closer, he struggled in the
sand, trying to get up. Then, apparently exhausted, he laid his
head back down. Blood trickled over the shiny cuff and broken chain
around his left wrist.
    “That was stupid,” she said.
    “I’ve heard that before,” he muttered.
    He sounded so defeated that she wished she
hadn’t rubbed it in. “Are you going to fight me once I’m close
enough?”
    DJ shook his head wearily. “I’m done. I
couldn’t fight a pup.”
    “What did you mean to do?” She was certain
he’d had some plan.
    “Get in there.” He moved his head, indicating
the rock formation. “Ambush you and knock you out, get your keys.
Put you in the back and tie you up. Drive off.”
    Echo hadn’t expected the last part. Uneasily,
she asked, “What were you planning to do with me?”
    “Drop you off at the nearest town, of course.
I couldn’t ditch you in Death Valley .” His straightforward
explanation had the unmistakable ring of truth.
    “Oh.” She’d imagined all sorts of things he
might have intended in the few seconds before he’d explained, from
kidnapping to rape to taking her to a more convenient location to
dispose of her body, but his actual reason hadn’t occurred to her.
Now that she knew his intent had been to save her life, she
felt doubly guilty.
    Echo picked him up. He didn’t resist as she
carried him back to the Humvee, laid him down in the passenger
seat, and locked the doors. She half-expected him to make another
break for it as she fetched the first aid kit from the back. But he
stayed where she’d left him.
    DJ barely flinched when she took off the cuff
and poured antiseptic over the torn flesh of his wrist. But he was
silent as she bandaged it, which she was starting to realize meant
he was either plotting something or was too sick to talk. Or
both.
    “Can I lie down?” DJ asked. His voice was
raspy and weak.
    Echo wasn’t letting him out of her sight for
the ride to the base. He’d undoubtedly jump out the back. But she
tilted the seat until he could lie nearly flat.
    “Thanks.” He curled up on his side,
shivering. Beneath the brutal sunburn, his face had taken on a
grayish tinge.
    “Are you cold?”
    He nodded.
    Echo took his pulse. It had sped up again,
and his skin felt clammy. She turned down the air conditioning, got
a blanket from the back, and put it over him.
    “You don’t have to do this,” DJ said,
startling her. She’d thought he was done talking.
    “Yes, I do. You’re going into shock.”
    “I mean, you don’t have to take me back.
They’re holding your sister. They’re holding my buddy too. We
should partner up. Drive me home, we’ll get allies and weapons, and
we’ll come back and rescue them both. You saw what I could do with
nothing but a dart gun. Now imagine me with an M-16.”
    With that prompt, Echo couldn’t help
imagining DJ and an M-16, and herself at his side. They probably
could tear the place down. She’d grab Charlie and carry her away.
They’d find the base DJ’s buddy was held at, and get him too. And
then DJ and his friend would go back to Afghanistan, and