She planted her feet and lifted the gun in front of her. Her right arm was bent, which was making her aim just slightly to the right.
“Straighten your arms.”
“They are straight.”
I stepped up behind her and used my hand to elevate her arm. “See how your gun was leaning to the right?”
I felt her shiver—the kind of shiver that a woman had right before I kissed her. My nostrils flared as I inhaled her scent before I stepped back. Fresh—she smelled so fresh and delicately feminine.
Stop it. Working not to react to her nearness, I focused on her aim.
“Straighten out your right elbow.”
“Show me again,” she demanded.
That was exactly what I was trying to avoid. I stepped in behind her, even closer than last time. I put my right hand beneath her arm and straightened it out.
Only this time, I bent down and shamelessly put my face next to hers, so close we almost touched. Mostly it was so I could inhale her scent again.
“You see how this point lines up between these two tips?”
“Yeah.” Her breath hitched.
“Center that, and that’s where you aim. What are you aiming for?”
“There’re no bullets in here, right?”
“Gun is empty.”
“Then I want to try and hit that tree over there.”
I gently directed her toward the tree. “Things will get tricky since we are moving, but try to keep it lined up.” With regret, I stepped back.
“Can I fire?”
“Dry firing a chamber isn’t good for it, but go ahead and do it a couple of times. No more.”
She slowly moved, tracking the tree like a boss. “Why is it bad for a gun?”
I appreciated how focused she was. Most soldiers could benefit from her level of concentration. “It’s hard on the firing pin.”
She pulled the trigger twice in succession and then lowered the gun and looked over at me.
“That tree is thankful your gun was empty.” I took the gun from her. “This is a magazine. See how the bullets are lined up this way?”
The boat jerked hard. I caught her as she lurched.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She looked flushed. “I think the engine cut out again.”
Skipper moved from the boathouse and called over his shoulder. “I think it’s weeds again. The water in this river is too damn low.” He disappeared to the back of the boat.
I swore. At this pace, we’d never make it to Vietnam. The longer we were out on this river, the longer we were exposed. “I should help him.”
“I’ll come and help too.”
“How many times is this?” Skipper gasped as he slowly pulled himself onto the back of the boat.
Blaire stood above us, holding a lantern up for light. “This is your seventh time in the water.”
I shivered in the dark water, waiting for Skipper to move so I could pull myself onto the boat. For the last nine hours, our boat had repeatedly caught weeds. The last few times we had stopped, the engine had come so close to overheating that we had to sit around and wait for it to cool before we could start the whole process over again.
Blaire handed Skipper a towel. “Are you okay?”
My shoulder muscles ached as I pulled myself out of the water and sat, dripping wet, on the end of the deck while I listened to them talk.
“I’m so exhausted I’m trembling.”
“I’ve made some coffee,” Blaire reassured him. “It’ll warm you up. Why don’t you go change?”
“Thanks, Blaire,” he mumbled.
I felt a towel drop over my right shoulder.
“Thanks.” Without looking back at her, I started to dry off.
“I’m worried about Skipper. He seems extremely tired.”
“He’s fine,” I told her, not wanting to worry her, but I had the same concerns. I recognized serious fatigue. The last two times we had gotten in the water, he had held up a light for me while I hacked away at the weeds. And he had barely been able to do that.
“Do you think these weeds are going to keep on happening?”
I stood up and looked at her in the pale lantern light. Despite wearing a hat all day, her nose was pink and starting to freckle. The rest of her skin looked sun-kissed. And her dark hair was slightly curly and messy. Her mouth made me think of kissing.
“Water seems a lot deeper here, and the flow is stronger. I think we might be in the clear. What’s our max speed?”
“Anything over ten knots and we’re in danger of overheating.”
“What’s that in miles per hour?”
“Roughly eleven.”
I shook my head in disgust. “We’ll be lucky if we make it to the border before light.”
“I’m going to make some food, and I think one of us should give Skipper some relief tonight so he can sleep for at least a couple of hours.”
“Agreed.”
She looked surprised. “Okay.”
“I’m going to change, and then I’ll help.”
The sweetest smile in the world flitted across her face. “Deal.”
I moved downstairs to the galley and changed into dry clothes. The whole day, Blaire had worked hard alongside us, bringing us towels, preparing food and keeping us hydrated—not to mention probably saving us with her extensive boat knowledge.
As I moved back up to the deck, I thought about how I needed to acknowledge her tireless efforts.
I stopped in the shadows and took a moment to watch her. She stood beneath the netting, cutting something on the table. Tendrils of her hair moved softly against her neck in the gentle breeze. She was barefoot, and she was softly humming. As if she sensed me, she turned and caught me staring at her like a stalker.
Her face brightened with a smile. “I hope sandwiches are okay. I can heat up some canned soup for you if you want.”
I stepped beneath the netting. “Sandwiches are fine. Need some help?”
She moved over to the sink. “I think I’m all done here. I’ve cut up some fruit.”
Movement above her caught my eye. It was a black-and-white-striped krait, which was a lethally venomous snake. It was hanging off the frame and holding its head directly above Blaire, almost as if it were trying to determine if her neck was another sturdy place to explore.
If it touched her, she was bound to scream. And if she startled the snake, it would strike her. We were miles away from treatment and our boat barely worked, which meant a snakebite to her neck could prove fatal. I slowly raised my pistol and took aim, but I didn’t have a clear shot.
I spoke in a low, steady voice. “Blaire, don’t fucking move. Stay completely still. This is life or death.”
CHAPTER TEN
BLAIRE
This is life or death. The tone of Viktor’s voice made me completely freeze.
I stood there, my head bent over the sink, my hand paused in the air, holding a knife. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but my lips felt paralyzed. I took slow, shallow breaths as my eyes strained to see out of my peripheral.
“Steady, Blaire,” he warned from over my right shoulder. “Stay completely still. Keep your breathing slow and natural.”