Page 68 of SEAL of Valor

“Shh, it’s okay.” I try to smile, but my lip trembles with everything I am trying to keep inside. I’m way out of my league here. But if I can help Weston get back on his feet, then we can figure out what to do. “If you want me to tend to him, I also need fresh water, rags, and these chains off of his wrists.” I lift one, noting the way the iron has rubbed the skin of his wrists raw.

It breaks my heart to know he must be in excruciating pain.

“Get her what she needs, and release him,” Brenda orders someone who is standing out of view. Then she turns back toward us. “Be a good boy, and don’t do anything stupid,” she snaps at Weston. “I need you in good enough shape to do what needs to be done.” The shrill tone of a cell phone cuts through the momentary silence, so Brenda steps from the room before pressing it to her ear.

Max, however, remains right where he is, arm around Ash, staring at me. “You know, babe, it’s funny. She really does look so much like her mom, doesn’t she?”

“I think so,” Ash replies. “How is she feeling these days, by the way? Better?”

I stiffen. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Max grins. “I wanted to just off the old lady, but Brenda thought that might alert his little team, and she claimed they would see right through it and circle the wagons. Turns out, even sneaking pills into her organizer didn’t work. The stubborn woman didn’t want to cause her little girl any stress.” He crosses his arms.

“It was you? You drugged her?” I get to my feet, fury blazing through my veins. He’d drugged her. But how? How much of this was orchestrated?

“It was harder than I thought it would be, though. Your mother is such a health nut, I had to crush up the pills and add them to her supplement capsules.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Weston says as he coughs and tries to stand. He stumbles, and I reach for him so he doesn’t fall and hurt himself even more. Not that I’m even sure that’s possible at this point.

“I’m not worried,” Max retorts.

Weston’s upper lip raises in a snarl. “You should be.”

Before Max can respond, two men I don’t recognize carry in a bucket of water and some towels. They set them next to the first-aid kit, then turn and leave the room.

Max’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket to check the readout. “Ahh, sorry to cut this short, but I have to take this. See you soon, Cowboy.” He winks and turns to leave the room, Ash going behind him.

The door closes, and I drop to my knees beside Weston, tugging the water, towels, and supplies closer. After dipping a towel in the water, I turn back to Weston, trying to decide where I should even start.

There is so much blood.

My hands tremble, and tears fill my eyes. What if I can’t save him?

Weston’s hand grips my wrist, and I look up into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Reese.”

“It’s not your fault.” I sniffle. “I need to know where the worst of it is.”

But he doesn’t release me. “Are you okay?” he asks. One eye is nearly swollen shut already, and his lip is split in two places.

“Me? I’m not the one who was pulverized.” I sniffle, tears filling my eyes as I look at his broken face.

“I’ll survive.”

“Not if I can’t find out what’s going on.”

He releases me, so I run the cloth over his chest, cleaning off the blood. As I do, it reveals no less than three separate puncture wounds. Two are small—one on his upper left side and the other on his shoulder. However, the third is larger than the other two, and it’s bleeding far worse.

“Gunshot wound,” he says. “Bullet is probably still inside.”

“Weston.” My hands are trembling as I grab more cloths and press them against the wounds. When he doesn’t answer, I frantically look at his face, only to find his eyes closed. “Weston! Don’t you dare die on me.” I shake him, and he opens his eyes.

“I’m here,” he replies, tone gruff.

“Please stay awake. Here, hold this.” I take his hand and press it on the cloth covering the wound on his shoulder so I can focus on the larger injury.

I’ve got this. I’ve stitched up injuries before. Granted, they weren’t on humans. But an injury is an injury, right?

God, please help me. Please don’t let him die.