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Trembling, she says, “Are you sure?”
“I’m a Navy trauma surgeon. And I’m your only bet right now.”
She tries to smile, but she winces instead. “Oh well, then, if you’re all I’ve got.”
The entry point is just lateral to the axilla, deep in her upper arm, but as far as I can tell it missed hitting bone, and went all the way through. But it’s bleeding a fuckton. “The bullet did a lot of damage, which I’m sure you know.”
She nods. Her whole body is shaking beneath me as I rip out the other medical supplies tucked in my tactical vest.
“Andre, ETA to the hospital?”
“Just over five minutes.”
Hardening my voice, I say, “We got this. You hear me?”
Andre brakes hard and the car shudders. Growling, I shift, and reposition my 6’4 frame into the tight as hell space, leaning over her with my thigh shoved between her legs.
If I could get Simona to a place where I could work on the wound, I could do a lot more to stop the bleeding, but that’s not happening in this car. I can barely fit.
I press harder. She concentrates on breathing.
“That’s it. Stay with me.”
She nods, jerkily. “I’m trying.”
Andre calls, “Three minutes.”
“Three minutes…” she repeats. The threadiness of her voice scares the damned life out of me.
I try to engage her. Keep her present. “Who was he?”
She narrows her eyes. “Pavel. He’s trash. A half-assed spy wannabe. Someone I knew a long time ago.”
“He’s mine,” I reply, letting venom fill my voice. “When this is done, I’m going to make him pay for this.”
I squeeze the clear IV bag, pushing more fluids into her.
Her fingers flex against my arm, chilled now where they press against my heated skin.
“I’m cold.”
“I know, babe. We’re almost there.”
If only it wasn’t going to be a dirty, third world hospital.
I’m worried as hell about what we are going to find. Real fear grips my lungs.
I have to remind myself that plenty of lives have been saved in nasty places. I know because I’ve been there. In the armpits of the world for nearly 15 years. Doing my best to be the doctor my father said I’d never be.
The damaged road vibrates us so hard the car groans. And the whole way, I wonder how they’ll react at that hospital when I tell them I’m going to stand in on the surgery Simona’s going to need to save her life.
Because I’m not letting anyone else ruin her chances at living.
CHAPTER THREE
I should have paid more attention to those Spanish lessons I took online a few years ago. Because I can’t understand a damned word that Scotch and Andre are yelling.
At least someone studied, apparently.
