Bastards.
Audrey mentally spit the vilest curses she could think of in both English and Spanish at them until they locked her and Gabe inside the hut. She helped him sit on a pile of feedbags, then stamped her foot and fumed at the closed door.
Gabe chuckled softly. “Are you done cursing them out yet?”
She stamped her foot one more time for good measure before facing him. He lay stretched out on the feedbags, one arm thrown over his eyes, breathing in slow, deep breaths. His complexion had drained of color and held the faintest tint of green.
God, he must really be in pain, and here she was feeling sorry for herself. She settled onto the dirt floor at his feet and began working the laces off his boots. His jaw clenched so hard she saw a tick start below his eye.
“Audrey, stop. It’s fine.”
“Right. This foot is so far from fine, it’s in another zip code.”
“Okay,” he said through his teeth. “It will be fine. Just leave it alone.”
“Not happening.” His grumbles, so like she imaged a displeased bear might sound, made her smile. “How’d you know I was cursing at them?”
“That you were stomping around like a five-year-old wasn’t a clue?” His mouth flattened, but she thought she saw a small lift at one corner. A smile? “And my youngest brother does the exact same thing. Mostly to The Admiral’s back.”
“The Admiral?”
“My father. He doesn’t like us to call him Dad. We’ve always called him by rank.”
Audrey took an instant and intense dislike to the man. “Oh, yeah? Did he make you salute at the breakfast table, too?” Incensed on his behalf, she pulled a little too hard on the lace and Gabe sucked in a sharp breath.
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry.” She gentled her touch. “Better?”
“Yeah.” He drew another breath. Let it out, and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time. “And he did make us salute sometimes.”
Audrey stared up at him in horror. “I was being sarcastic.”
“I’m not.”
Good Lord. Military school, a tyrant for a father. What an unpleasant childhood Gabe had endured. If it could even be called a childhood. It amazed her that he escaped with any semblance of sanity.
She sent up a quick prayer to her parents, suddenly a million times more grateful she’d had them, even if it was for too short a time.
Audrey got the boot unlaced. His foot was twice its normal size, and sported more shades of purple than she’d ever seen outside a canvas. She bit her lower lip. Should she cut the boot off? Then he’d be barefoot tomorrow if they continued marching. But if she didn’t, the boot might cut off his circulation, putting him in danger of losing the foot altogether, and the loss of a limb would be hard on a control freak like him.
Okay, the boot had to come off.
She scanned the walls of the dim, dusty hut. No windows and only one door, most likely locked or guarded or both. It seemed to be a storage shed, packed with feedbags for the mules she’d heard braying somewhere in camp, but nothing to cut through leather.
Well, duh. Unless their captors were complete idiots, they’d check for anything that could be used as a weapon before putting her and Gabe inside.
“Left boot,” Gabe said, startling her. He’d been quiet for so long she thought he’d passed out from the pain.
“What?”
“Look in my left boot. There should be a Swiss army knife that Cocodrilo didn’t find.”
How did he do that? He always seemed to know what she was thinking. Unless she was muttering to herself? She did have a tendency to do that when stressed.
Audrey moved around him, unlaced his other boot, and dipped a hand inside the leg. Her fingers brushed the hard muscle of his calf—did the man have even an ounce of fat on his body?—then closed around a plastic square. His phone. She gasped and flipped it open, only to see it searching for service. Disappointment crashed down on her, bringing tears to her eyes. For a moment there, she thought they would be able to call for help. They’d get out of here, then Gabe and his team could focus on finding Bryson and this nightmare would finally be over.
But, no. They were still stuck in the middle of the jungle with a useless phone, wasting time Bryson didn’t have. “How’s the battery?” Gabe asked.
She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes to clear her watery vision and checked the indicator. “Little under half.”
“Damn. Let’s hope we’re outta here before it runs down.”
“What good is it? It doesn’t have a signal.” She set the phone aside and dipped into his boot again, this time avoiding his calf and finding the small knife. She opened it and stared at the blade. As far as weapons went, it was pitiable, but she was still glad they had something. She moved back to his bad foot and started cutting.