Page 95 of Brutal Truths

Gabriela and Aiden both say, “When did you do that?”

I wave them off, already reaching for the cushion on the kitchen chair. “Lift your head. Do you feel any better now?”

“Not really. I feel like a damn idiot.” His breathing is still uneven, but it’s improving. The color of his face isn’t as ashen as it was.

I take his pulse again. It’s still too fast.

“You’re not going to like this, but that’s too fucking bad. We need to get you to a hospital.” I sit back slightly, keeping my focus on him. “I can only do so much. If you go into cardiac arrest, which is a very big possibility, there’s not much I can do. You need a cardiologist, which I’m not.”

“I can fly you,” Teddy offers.

I glance up, surprised to find him there. “Perfect. Now, are you going to cooperate?”

Trent swallows his pride and nods. “I don’t think I really have a choice, do I?”

“No.” I scratch my head and try to think. “He shouldn’t walk. I need a stretcher. Can you and your men use those military skills and make me one?”

“Already on it.” Lane steps in with a blanket and a heavy tarp tied to two wooden curtain rods. “What about him?”

I glance back at Rurik. He’s still out. Jen’s stabilized his leg, padding the knife so it won’t move. Even duct-taped his leg to what I believe are broken wooden broom handles. To stop the bleeding, she’s fashioned a tourniquet from a belt.

“Only room for one patient in my chopper,” Teddy informs us.

Trent pushes onto his elbows, glaring across the room. “Give me five minutes alone with him⁠—”

“Shut up.” My voice cuts clean through his. “You’re in no condition to be tossing out threats. Lay down. You’re not in charge here, I am.”

He falls back, the corners of his lips curl slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You take the mob boss.” Gabby makes this decision easier. “We’ll figure out how to get that one help.”

Lane and Aiden are already loading Trent onto the makeshift stretcher. They slide the blanket under him and then shift him onto the tarp in one smooth motion. It’s not as good as a real stretcher, but it’ll get the job done.

When they lift him, I hover close, unable to stay quiet. “Don’t move him around too much. He’s stable, but that could change quickly if you stress him out.”

They get him to the helicopter without incident. But once there, I realize we have another problem. There’s no place to put him on the floor. Thankfully, it’s a bench seat, making that an option I can live with.

“Lay him across the seat.”

Aiden shakes his head, “No. Where will you sit?”

“Do it.” I shove him in the back. “I’ll sit on the floor.”

He slides Trent in, then turns to me. “I’ll sit in the back with him. You take the passenger seat.”

Not happening.

I roll my eyes and slip past him, making sure Teddy straps my patient tight so he doesn’t get tossed during the flight. When Teddy jumps out, Aiden reaches inside to grab my arm.

I point to Trent, already seeing the signs. “He’s going to arrest. I’m the best chance he has. Now get your arse in the front seat.”

Does he listen? Hell, no. He forces his way in the back, shutting the door behind him.

Teddy hands him two headsets. “Hold on. I’ll do my best to keep this smooth, but with the weight distribution...”

I tune the rest out. My focus needs to be on my patient.

We’re barely halfway through the flight when Trent’s body starts to tremble. Not a positive sign. My mind runs through the possibilities. There are a handful of reasons for that. Every single one of them is unacceptable.