“I’ll get over it,” she said, her gaze going stony.
Still, she closed her eyes and swayed precariously when Hancock dribbled the liquid over her entire knee, using the cloth to absorb the rinse. She looked like she was listing to the side and Mojo must have thought so too because he palmed her upper arm, his huge hand dwarfing her delicate bone structure, and steadied her, holding her up and in place.
“Thank you,” Honor murmured, never opening her eyes.
“Bad mojo,” Mojo said, shaking his head as he looked at the swollen knee Hancock was being a lot more careful with now.
“A New Era controls the airspace here,” Hancock found himself explaining. As if she deserved answers. Fuck. It was as close to an actual apology as possible without actually telling her he was sorry. He continued, though his voice was still tight with anger. No longer at her, though. At himself for feeling the need to explain himself to anyone. And for taking out his anger and frustration on her. Hurting her unintentionally. “They have weapons capable of bringing down a fighter jet. A chopper would be child’s play for them. We have to circumvent their area of control, and it’s wide and growing wider with every day, before we can risk traveling by air. So until such time as it’s safe, we’ll be traveling on the ground.”
“But why are we moving away from the border?” she asked, no accusation in her voice this time. Just genuine puzzlement.
Maybe he should just wash his hands of her and make Conrad take over the job as her babysitter. She clearly wasn’t intimidated by Hancock, which pissed him off and bruised his male ego more than he’d like to admit. Conrad, however, hated everyone and didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. He gave his loyalty and regard to his team. No one else. And Hancock was the only other person in the world Conrad took orders from and followed. He hadn’t been any happier than Hancock about being sent like fucking errand boys to round up a woman who’d ended up taking up far too much time and effort on their part.
“Let’s pretend for a moment that you got lucky and were able to get past the men surrounding the village waiting for you—which you wouldn’t have. But suppose you did and made it to the border, where you assumed you’d be home free. You would have been nailed within a mile of crossing into the next country. A child could have predicted your destination. The shortest distance between two points, your attack and what you perceived as freedom, is a straight line. The nearest American presence. And once past the border you would have thought you were home free when in fact, apart from the fact that A New Era’s minions are everywhere, a huge bounty was placed on your head, along with the fact that you were heading to the border being broadcasted far and wide. Any number of people would have been lined up, lying in wait, only too eager to hand you over to the enemy.”
Anger simmered in her eyes and her features tightened. Her fingers curled into tight fists atop her thighs, and he had the passing thought that she was tempted to punch him. He almost laughed.
“You think I survived this long by being stupid?” she hissed. “That I’m a childish idiot who would think that crossing a mere border would somehow make me impervious to capture or harm? I’m a woman alone, traveling alone. Even were I not hunted by a group of assholes I would still be at risk from any number of other sources. I would never have let my guard down—and I still won’t—until I’m on a plane back home.”