Mac ran the Spanish words through her mind until she thought she had the gist of them. Liam did need rest. “Someone should watch him. I mean—if he’s got a concussion—”
“I’m fine.”
Liam was glaring at her, steely gaze perfectly clear. Mac suppressed an urge to do a little jig of relief.
“I see the blow didn’t improve your disposition,” she said.
“My—” He lifted his head, winced, and subsided back to the pillow. “I told you to stay in camp. You could have been hurt!”
Mac tried to ignore the brief warmth curling around her heart at his real, if angry, concern. “I don’t remember agreeing to take your orders. You just about got yourself killed—”
“I don’t need a woman’s protection—”
“—and if you had gotten killed, exactly what would I nave done out here alone?”
“Are you saying you actually need me, Mac?”
Okay. Swallow your pride if it’ll make him feel better. “I admit it. At least until I find a way back through the tunnel.”
“Oh, yes. Back to the future.” He made a sharp movement and froze, the breath hissing through his teeth. “I had everything under control until you came along to distract me.”
She bent over him, arms folded. “It’s just possible, Lucky Liam, that your luck was about to run out.”
“And you improved it? I think it ran out when I met you.” Once again he tried to wedge himself up on his elbows; this time he could barely suppress a groan. His face drained of color.
Mac forgot her annoyance. “What’s wrong? Are you wounded somewhere else? Is your head—”
“My head’s fine,” he snapped. “It’s my bloody back and shoulder.”
She remembered how he’d twisted so awkwardly when she’d pulled him down, in such a way that he’d probably wrenched more than a few ligaments and muscles. Having done the same thing while lifting moving boxes less than six months ago, Mac knew how painful such ostensibly minor injuries could be. Had she even managed to screw up saving his life?
“I guess you’ll have to rest, then,” she said. “Give the muscles a chance to heal.”
“And who’s going to run things in camp? You?”
“Fernando seems more than competent.”
Liam turned his head with utmost caution and spat a rapid string of words at Fernando. The Maya glanced at Mac and smiled knowingly.
Liam grunted. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to lie here like an invalid.” He clenched his jaw and heaved himself from the bed in one jerky motion.
He lasted about ten seconds before he sat back on the cot, grimacing in pain. Mac pushed him down the rest of the way with a well-placed hand on his chest. His heart pounded under her palm.
“Now do you get it?” she said. “I know. I’ve been there. You might as well accept that you’re going to be here for a while.”
“To hell with that. I have to get to Champerico.”
Mac was suddenly exhausted. She felt behind her for the folding camp chair and sat down. “If you’re in this much pain, you’re not going to make it far in the jungle. You are talking about a pretty rough trip, aren’t you?”
“Very rough. No roads, endless walking, steep muddy trails, obstinate mules, scant food, no amenities, insects by the thousands…”
“And you’re going alone.”
“I’ll have Fernando.” All at once he seemed to dismiss her completely, turning gingerly to his muleteer. He gave a sharp command in Spanish. Fernando pursed his lips and shrugged.
“What did you ask him?” she demanded of Liam.
“Do me a favor, Mac, and leave me in peace.” He closed his eyes. “Hagalo, Fernando.”
Fernando touched Mac’s arm. His meaning was clear. Mac let herself be steered as far as the tent flap and dug in her feet.
“You know there’s… something I might be able to give you for the pain,” she offered.
“I said I don’t need your help.”
She almost left him to his own devices. It was tempting. But for all his high-handed behavior, he didn’t deserve to suffer like this. She marched from the tent and went for her backpack, still under the palmetto shelter.