Page 110 of Power's Fall

On the bright side, her eyesight was clearing up—thank God—the big gray spots hindering ninety percent of her vision right after the flash now only clouded about thirty percent. She blinked a few times, hoping it would continue to improve.

Funny how being shot changed a person’s priorities. She’d been terrified after that flash grenade that she had lost her vision for good. Then she heard that gunshot, felt the sting of pain, and realized death was a hell of a lot worse than darkness.

“The bleeding is slowing down,” Vadisk assured her.

“Are you going to dig the bullet out with a knife?” she asked, suppressing a whimper.

“What? No.” Vadisk’s lips twitched. “First, the bullet went through your leg, that’s why you have a hole on each side. Second, you never remove a bullet with a knife except in an operating room.”

“Why do you know that?” she demanded.

Vadisk was shaking his head as he looked at her leg. “You’re going to need stitches, but for now we’re going to have to make do with this.”

That was when she realized he’d found gauze pads and tape. He worked quickly and efficiently, with steadier hands than she would have if the shoe was on the other foot and he’d been the one injured.

She was thankful it had been her. The pain was bearable and they still weren’t out of the woods. That meant, she needed her men to be in top fighting shape. Dahlia had no illusions about the fact she was the weaker link. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t pull the trigger if it came to that, but…well, she knew she would think about it for a second, and that pause would be the problem. Vadisk and Montana would act without hesitation.

Once the wound was wrapped up tightly, Vadisk leaned back on his haunches and looked up at her face.

“I’m fine,” she tried to reassure him. “Do you think it’s safe for us to go up?”

Vadisk frowned. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay?—”

“You can’t,” she interjected.

Vadisk sighed, but his lack of arguing told him he’d already known what her reply would be. “The gunshots stopped a couple of minutes ago. I’m hoping that means we’re too far from shore. At this point, I assume the police or militia or whoever the fuck is coming after us is regrouping, preparing for a water or perhaps air chase. That should give us a bit of time. Come on.” He offered his hand, helping her stand.

She could tell the moment he leaned forward that he was intent on carrying her up the half dozen steps back to the cockpit. She held her hand up, palm out. “I can walk.”

Vadisk growled in response. Dahlia grinned, certain he meant that sound to be threatening. Poor man had no idea how much it turned her on.

She patted his cheek. “You can kiss my boo-boo all better later. For now…we need to be with Montana.”

The mention of their husband’s name did the trick. Vadisk wrapped his arm around her from behind, half guiding, half lifting her up the stairs.

So much for not carrying her.He seemed intent that she not put weight on her injured leg. Now that he’d wrapped it and the bleeding had stopped, the pain was minimal.

Back in the cockpit, she and Vadisk claimed the last two captain’s seats, Sinaver fastened to a third with the seat belt. Vadisk reached over and fastened hers, tightening it when the boat skimmed along a particularly large wave.

Montana drove the boat like Vadisk drove the van. Full speed ahead.

She made a mental note to keep Dramamine in her purse from now on.

Vadisk crossed his arms, staring Sinaver down.

Sinaver sneered, his upper lip curled. “Fuck you.”

Vadisk scowled, leaning forward, and for a moment, Dahlia wondered if he intended to torture the information out of him.

She’d never felt a second of fear around Vadisk, but she could see why his enemies might tremble. Between his large size, thick muscles, and dark expression, he was terrifyingly intimidating.

“Hey, hey, hey. I might not speak Russian, but even I can tell that’s not a very nice thing to say,” Montana said in an affable voice.

“My men will capture you,” Sinaver said hoarsely, still suffering from the effects of the Spaniard’s strangulation, “and I will make sure your deaths are slow and painful.” He turned his attention to Dahlia with a malevolent glare. “She’ll be first. My men will enjoy taking turns with your whore.”

Vadisk’s hand shot out so quickly, Dahlia missed the movement completely, only realizing her husband had slapped Sinaver when she heard the sharp sound.

“Don’t talk about her,” he warned, darkly. “Don’t even think about her.”