He shook his head. "You're a very nice armful," he said lightly. "I decided I was enjoying myself too much to waste time sleeping." He inclined his head in a mocking bow. "I hope you'll forgive me for not obeying your orders, oh, Zilah."

"Much you care." She tried to smother a smile as she turned and started down the hill toward the tamarisk grove. She glanced back over her shoulder. "You're definitely not a team player, Daniel."

"Clancy would never have sent a team player on a mission like this," he drawled, his eyes twinkling. "And if he hadn't sent me, think of all we would have missed."

She chuckled. "Bombs exploding, being shot at, pursuit by terrorists. I have to admit it hasn't been dull. Life may seem a bit tame when this is over."

"Then I'll have to think of something to liven things up a bit." He leered at her. "I have a few ideas in mind that might suffice. You forgot about the Roman candles."

She smiled softly. "No, I didn't. I have to admit your fireworks are pretty unforgettable, Daniel."

There was still a smile lingering on her lips when she reached the creek and knelt down on the flat rocks that bordered it. She seemed to have been smiling a great deal since Daniel had appeared in her life. How many years had it been since she'd known joie de vivre rising within her? She had thought that welling spring had been stilled forever by the experience that had changed everything for her. Contentment had seemed prize enough.

She used the handkerchief to wash her face and throat, thinking wistfully of thick terry-cloth towels and toothbrushes and hot showers. . . .

She screamed in agony.

The pain was so blinding, so overwhelming, that for an instant she didn't know where it was coming from. It was everywhere. It was wracking her entire body. She found herself sobbing helplessly.

"Zilah, for God's sake, what's happened?" Daniel was kneeling beside her. He grabbed the lantern and swung it in a wide arc around the grove, the M-l ready in his other hand.

"I don't know." The tears were running down her face. "Pain!"

"Where?"

She tried to pierce the haze that was enveloping her and identify its source. "My ankle, the right one, I think." She clutched at his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh. "Oh, I don't know! It hurts. Daniel."

"I know. I know. Shhh. I know." He was shifting he lantern, playing the light down her leg to her feet.

"Oh, God!"

"What is it?" His voice was so shocked that she ought the dizziness to look over his shoulder. Ugliness. She had never seen anything so ugly as the creature crawling up her jean-clad calf.

Then Daniel was using the barrel of the M-l to brush the creature away. He ground it into the stones with the butt of the gun. He stood up, slung the rifle on his shoulder, and picked her up. He climbed

swiftly up the hill toward the cave.

"It was a scorpion, wasn't it?" she whispered, sing her eyes. "He stung me."

"It was a scorpion," he conceded grimly. "They don't usually like to be so close to water. It must have awled out from under one of those rocks."

"They're very poisonous, aren't they?" she asked, moistening her lips. "Am I going to die, Daniel?"

"No! God, no, sweetheart. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"Don't look now, but I think it's already happened." She felt light-headed, floating on waves of pain. "He was ugly."

"What?"

"The scorpion. He was so ugly."

"Shut up, Zilah," he said huskily. "You're going to be fine. Don't think about it." He set her down with her back to the wall of the cliff and knelt beside her. He rolled up the cuff of the jeans on her right leg and inhaled sharply. Her ankle was already swollen to almost twice its normal size. He quickly pulled off her tennis shoe and stripped off her white sock.

"Where is that handkerchief?" He didn't wait for an answer as he spied it still clenched in her hand and took it from her. "I'm going to have to make a tourniquet to keep the poison from spreading. Not very tight, just enough to slow the circulation a little. We'll keep a close watch on it and loosen it every so often." He was wrapping and tying the handkerchief directly above her ankle as he spoke. "The important thing is to keep the venom from spreading before we can get you to a doctor. The initial pain will ebb soon, but sometimes a fever follows. Don't be frightened if

it does."

"You seem to know quite a bit about scorpion stings," Zilah said faintly. "Is that required instruction for Clancy's agents?"

"I learned this particular knowledge on my own," Daniel said as he rolled down the cuff of her jeans. "One of the favorite amusements of those bastards who held me in that shack was to throw a scorpion or snake into the room with me and watch me scramble to cope with it. After 1 got out I made it my business to

know everything there was to know about poisonous vermin of all types. I never wanted to be that helpless again."

Poor Daniel. How horrible that experience must have been for him. And how many other experiences had he gone through that were equally hair-raising and potentially tragic? He had led a hard life and he was a hard man, yet there was kindness in him and humor and sensitivity. . . . She was finding it hard to concentrate through the haze of pain surrounding her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He glanced up in surprise. "Why?"

He actually didn't know, she realized. When he went through a hellish experience he just tried to make himself better prepared for the next one. It was a way of life to him. "The pain and the sadness and . ."She shook her head helplessly. "I'm just sorry."

Daniel's throat tightened. She was the one who was hurting and still she was worrying about him. He touched her cheek with one gentle finger. "Are you?"

he asked softly. "Don't be. I survived it." His finger moved down to trace her upper lip. "Did I ever tell you I love to see you smile? It reminds me of warmth and summer and all the good things of life. I haven't seen you laugh yet, but I'm looking forward to it." He bent forward to brush her temple with his lips. "I survived and you're going to survive, too, Zilah. Count on it."

"What are you doing?" she asked as he slung the can teen and the M-l on one shoulder and reached down to gather her in his arms.

"It's generally called a fireman's carry," he said as he slung her facedown over his shoulder. "I want to move fast and this is the easiest way for me to carry you over the kind of terrain we'll be crossing. I'll have to leave the backpack behind. Once we're out of the foothills I'll try to switch your position so that you'll be more comfortable."

"But you can't carry me all that distance," she protested. "Let me try to walk."

He gave her derriere a little slap. "Hush! I can do anything I damn well want to do. It's my decision, and we've already agreed that I'm not a team player. If I let you walk, that poison is going to pour into your bloodstream. Now, be quiet and think good thoughts. That's as far as you're going to be allowed to participate in this little project."

"I think we're going to need all the good thoughts we can beg, borrow, or steal," Zilah murmured hazily. "And even that may not be enough."

"It will be enough." Daniel's voice was grim. "I'll make damn sure it's enough."