Eye of the Beholder by Ingrid Weaver Page B

a shiny, viciously red swelling. She used her fingertip to lift up a loose flap of the black fabric. She had no more than a glimpse of a long groove of shredded, inflamed flesh before Rafe closed his fingers over her wrist and moved her hand away.
    “Oh, my God,” she breathed, her heart racing. She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his face. “Rafe, this is infected. It couldn’t have gotten this bad overnight.”
    “Germs multiply fast in the tropics.”
    “I should have realized you weren’t just feeling the heat when I saw you sweating yesterday,” she said. “I should have seen that you were ill. But all I thought about was how nice you were being to me and what a wonderful man you are and all the while you must have been suffering—”
    “Forget it, Glenna.”
    “I’m so sorry, Rafe. How could I have been so blind?”
    “I didn’t want you to know.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I figured you would react like this.”
    “You need medicine. I could retrace our steps and find my way back to Juarez. Maybe I could make a bargain with him, offer to have my family pay him whatever he wants for a doctor.”
    Rafe curled her hand into his chest toward her, bringing his face within inches of hers. His eyes were still feverishly bright, but his gaze was rock steady. “You do that and we’re both dead.”
    “But—”
    “You weren’t blindfolded on the trip to his house, Glenna. Until now, no one knew he had a stronghold on this island, but you’ve seen his setup. You could identify his accomplices. Whatever happens, he won’t let you go.”
    “But I have to do something. Do you want some water? Do you—”
    “Glenna, if you really want to do something, you can help me stand up. The stream we followed yesterday flows out where the pool narrows. We’ll stick with it as long as we can.”
    “Rafe—”
    “Don’t argue, Glenna. I’ve got to get you as close to the rendezvous as possible before…” He pressed his lips together, tensing as a wave of shivering swept over him.
    He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. Glenna could all too easily picture what was going to happen. She might not have any personal experience with conditions like these, but she’d read books, she’d seen movies. She knew that gone untreated, an infected wound would fester. Rafe could lose his leg. He could even lose his life.
    Oh, God, no. He couldn’t die. Not like this, not because of the bullet he’d taken for her.
    She wanted to whimper and curl into a ball on the mat of palm fronds and pretend she was home and have the nightmare end.
    But Glenna Hastings never fell apart. She was always in control. She could do this. She owed Rafe her life.
    She pulled away from him and retrieved her crutch and their bottle of water, then returned to Rafe’s side and helped him to his feet.
    She never did find the place where the stream flowed out of the pool. Ten feet from their camp, Rafe collapsed.

Chapter 7
    G lenna knelt at the edge of the pool and wrung out the cloths she was using for compresses. She had never felt more useless in her life. What good was her career or the skills she’d been so proud of? What point had there been in denying her heritage? She would give anything to have access to the Vanderhayden money right now. And a phone. She would charter a helicopter and fly Rafe to a hospital. She’d call on every family connection to round up the best doctors. She’d build a hospital right on this spot if that’s what it would take.
    She dunked the cloths back into the water. These rags were all that was left of her skirt. At least her wardrobe was still proving useful.
    She hiccuped on a sob, propped her crutch under her arm and pushed back to her feet. The light was fading fast, but it was easy to find her way back to their camp. She’d been back and forth to the pool so many times, she’d worn a path.
    Rafe’s eyes were open when she returned. Shehope that it was a positive sign, but he’d