How to explain her new reality without pissing her off to an incredible degree? Probably not possible. So Graham fell back on his standard M.O.—he ignored her question.
He plucked her off the bench, and when she protested, he said, “Worry about it in the morning.”
Ro was still sputtering when Conan shouldered the door to the locker room open and stepped out into the night. He strode across the camp, heading for a narrow building that had a solar light glowing next to the door.
He paused. “Open it, would you?”
Ro complied, grasping and turning the knob. Conan used his foot to push the door open and stepped inside the surprisingly well-lit room containing three sturdy-looking cots covered in crisp white sheets.
This was clearly the infirmary or clinic or whatever they called it. IV poles stood waiting for use next to the cots, and a steel instrument tray was pushed into the corner. Ro tried not to speculate about what kinds of injuries they expected to deal with that merited surgical tools.
A full complement of kitchen cabinets and countertops, complete with deep triple sinks, wrapped around two walls of the room. A closed door was visible in the far right corner. Beau sat in a leather executive chair, his boots propped up on a desk pushed up against the front wall. He put down the book he was reading when they walked in. Wait, was that World War Z? Ironic.
Dropping his boots to the floor, Beau appeared to be studying Ro in Conan’s arms. Ro assumed it was out of character for Conan to be carrying women all over hell and back. Which was surprising, given his recent penchant for it.
“Drop her on the cot. I’ll wrap her up and get you an ice pack. Where you putting her tonight?”
Ro was wondering that as well. Although, all she really cared was that there was a bed. Sleeping on the ground this last week, even with her sleeping bag, had sucked. She’d gotten soft over the years. Roughing it for a week without indoor plumbing or an air mattress used to be a regular occurrence in the Callahan family.
Conan sat her down on the cot closest to the door and moved to lean up against the counter, ignoring Beau’s question. Beau rolled the chair to a cupboard and grabbed an ace bandage and rolled over to the cot. He didn’t comment on her borrowed clothes as he surveyed her swollen ankle. An ugly bluish-black bruise had formed, stretching from her heel around to the top of her foot.
“I know you think I’m full of shit, but if you start walking on this too soon, you’re going to do more damage.” Beau said this as though he knew she was going to argue with him.
“How long? Really.”
He studied her ankle. “Hard to know exactly, but you’d be better waiting a week rather than a day.”
“Two days.”
Conan chose that moment to join the conversation. “This isn’t a negotiation. You want to be hurt worse?”
“You can’t tell me that if you or one of your commandos sprained an ankle, you’d have him on bed rest for a week. That’s ridiculous.”
Conan inclined his head. “Fair point. But we’ve got crutches here that fit us and any of my commandos would be on desk duty until Beau gave him the all clear. Especially now. In case you haven’t noticed, little girl, everything’s changed, and it’s going to keep changing, and not for the better. You need to get smart … and quick.”
“You condescending asshole. You think I don’t know that everything’s changed? While you’ve been hiding here in your little fortress, I’ve been out there,” Ro pointed toward the outside, “and I’ve seen it firsthand. I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. Do you think I don’t realize that? Do you think that maybe I have a damn good reason to be in a hurry to get where I’m going, and that’s why I’m trying to get there as quickly as I can? People are confused right now, and scared, and hoping someone’s coming to save them. It’s not going to be too much longer before everyone gets desperate and violent, and it’ll be survival of the fittest, or survival of the best armed and most ruthless. You better believe I’m going to be tucked away safe when that happens.” She looked toward the wall, not wanting to meet Conan or Beau’s eyes after her speech.
Conan pushed off the counter and stood before her. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Beau kept wrapping her ankle.
“At least we can agree on one thing: you need to stay safe and in one piece.” His tone was implacable. “You might not agree with my methods, but at least we’ll agree on the result.”
Ro tugged her chin out of his grip and crossed her arms. “Whatever. I’ll stay tonight and regroup in the morning.”