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“You did what you had to do, Baylee. Look at me.” The younger woman pulled back, still sobbing. Olivia realized that blood was dripping down Baylee’s arm, and her alarm spiked. There was nothing she could do for herself, but Baylee needed care.

“Let me see your face,” Olivia told her softly. “What did they do to you?”

Baylee untaped the pad, and Olivia gasped softly. Baylee’s beautiful face had been sliced from her temple to her cheek, then down her jaw to her neck. There was a second cut across the bridge of her nose and up through her right eyebrow. It looked like a dull knife had been used, so the edges weren’t clean. That was why the blood was still flowing.

“We have to stitch this closed. As soon as possible.”

Olivia glanced around, realizing for the first time that there were dark-clad bodies on the floor. When she looked at Baylee, the younger woman shrugged, her eyes chilling. “They weren’t watching. I grabbed the knife and cut one’s throat with a wild swing when I turned around, and shoved it in the gut of the other with the same knife. They left their guns on the floor when they, well…”

She glanced away, and Olivia didn’t like the way she dropped her eyes, as if in shame. “Look at me,” she snapped. Baylee glanced up at the sharp words, her eyes wide. “You did what you needed to do,” Olivia repeated. “There is no shame in that. And there’s no shame in protecting yourself. I’m proud of everything you’ve done.”

Another blast rocked the building, and they braced their arms over their heads. “Get me a suture kit. And some local. Why are these blasts going off?”

“Not sure,” Baylee said, moving carefully to the far cabinet. “It started about thirty minutes ago. Just random blasts. The Taliban have been running around like crazy, trying to figure out who it is.”

Olivia glanced down at her leg, nausea churning her stomach. The thought of the damage beneath the bandages… And with the tourniquet on, she was almost guaranteed an amputation, assuming she didn’t go septic before she could get care.

Another blast shook Nightshade, sending dust swirling.

Baylee handed her the suture kit, and a couple of vials of local anesthetic, then took a minute to drag her attackers over to the corner, where several other bodies lay. She flung a sheet over the pile and returned to push the gurney toward Olivia. She placed an aluminum room partition on top of the gurney, to shelter them from some of the falling debris. Lastly, she grabbed the men’s weapons, tucking them within reach as she crawled in and sat down gingerly beside Olivia. “How do you want me, boss?”

There was a glimmer of humor in her eyes, and Olivia latched onto it. “Lay down and rest your head here, baby. I’m not a surgeon, but I’ve done my fair share of scrub hemming. We’ll get you pulled together in no time.”

By the time she reached the end of Baylee’s cuts, more than fifteen minutes and three tremendous explosions had elapsed, and Olivia was ready to keel over. Her leg was throbbing, and she didn’t know what to do for it. Obviously, Baylee had injected local anesthetic into her leg. Or maybe Ropivacaine. It would last longer. She was afraid to ask, but she needed to.

Baylee had to shift a few times, and once she bumped the weapon into Olivia’s leg. There was an odd grinding feeling from her leg, more sensed than felt, and nausea churned. Focus, Olivia. “Thank you for putting the strap below the knee. It will make it easier to fit a prosthetic.”

Baylee gasped, and tears immediately rolled from the corners of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

Olivia tied off the last stitch, looking down into her eyes. “We’re going to survive this, one way or another. Now, did you have a cut on the back of your arm as well? It was dripping.”

Baylee rolled onto her side and Olivia cleaned and stitched the gash. Her eyesight was going in and out. It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do until they were rescued. Then they sat together under the room partition and gurney, cradling the weapons to their middles. “It’s been too long since they’ve been here,” Baylee murmured.

“That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Olivia fought to keep her eyes open. Her head was swimming with the effects of the drugs Baylee had pumped into her, but she knew the pain would be excruciating if she hadn’t. Right now, it was echoes of pain, from her head more than her leg. All she wanted to do was lay down and pass out, let the pain fade away. But it wasn’t going to be that easy. She was immobile, so she was going to have to fight her way out of this situation. She didn’t see the Taliban just giving up or running away.

* * *

Another blast shook the building, and she ducked her head. It was already throbbing so bad, and every blast sent a fresh percussion wave through her. Luckily, she’d already puked up everything in her stomach.

There was a spate of gunfire, then it sounded like a group of men yelling Pashtun that they needed to evacuate before they were killed. Then running boot steps were coming closer. “They’re coming this way.”

Her hand tightened on the weapon in her arms, and Baylee did the same. In unison, they lifted the weapons to their shoulders and aimed down the barrels. They had no ear protection in and she had no idea how many bullets were in the enemy weapon, but she would run the fucker dry for what they had done.

If she had to die, this was the way she wanted to go.

The men cleared the doorway and Baylee was the first to open fire. From their position beneath the gurney, they laid down a line of gunfire across the men’s lower bodies. Baylee was aiming more deliberately, and Olivia didn’t blame her. Man after man fell, which made it easier for them to fire kill shots. Baylee’s gun clicked empty first, then her own. For a moment, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears, then the pounding of her heartbeat in her head.

Baylee pushed the gurney away and stood, crossing to the pile of Taliban bodies at the door. The English speaker was not there, but Olivia could see the others that had been with him. Leaning down, Baylee snatched up one of the enemy weapons, aiming it at the men. But no one moved.

Baylee had a vicious gleam in her eye as she stared at one man in particular, and Olivia couldn’t blame her. If they had raped her, she would probably relish shooting men in the dicks as well.

There was a rustle down the hallway and Baylee drew back, rifle going to her shoulder. It wasn’t a Taliban, though. Olivia recognized the American uniform.

“Don’t shoot, Baylee!”

But the other woman had already lowered her weapon, recognizing the uniform as well.