Page 82 of Shane
“I can’t leave her,” he told her. “Won’t! She’s got two wounds. You need two more hands!” The last time he’d turned his responsibilities over to a medic, they’d both died. Visions of Sara and Abby Stewart overlaid the too-damned quiet woman beneath his bloody hands. They’d been as pasty white then as Everlee was now. Her lips were just as blue.
Fuck!Shane pursed his lips and tried like hell to fight the relentless panic tapdancing up his spine. It was happening again. Like his Mom. Like Sara and Abby.
The medic slapped a square, heavily weighted package over the exit wound on Ev’s shoulder. Damned thing worked like a compress. Just that fast Everlee stopped leaking blood. The medic tried again to take over the entry wound below Ev’s arm. “What’s your name?” she asked patiently.
He threw “Shane Hayes!” at the medic like a dagger. Why should his name matter?
She was on her knees now, just like him, right beside him, her full weight leveraged over Everlee, gently pushing him out of the way. “Good to meet you, Shane. I’m Dottie Kaminski. I know, Kaminski, strange name for a Black gal, huh? But Shane, honey, I can’t help your friend if you won’t let me do my job.”
See what she did there? Made it personal, first name basis kind of personal. Personally challenged him to let her take over caring for Everlee. To give in. Shane was almost convinced when a strong arm snaked around his shoulder and neck, jolting him back to the present and away from Everlee. Whoever that was, they thought they could physically restrain him? Jerk him around? Put him in a headlock? Guess again, asshole. He pulled back, fighting mad, ready to bust that idiot’s nose, until—
“It’s me, buddy,” Heston murmured against the side of his head. “Just me. Settle down. Let Everlee go. Help is here and these guys brought blood. Right now, she needs them more than she needs us.”
Well, blood. Yeah. Any fool could see she needed that. Okay then.
Shane grunted, then tipped over onto one hip, his eyes still glued on Everlee. Not quite ready to leave her side, but willing to listen. Heston was right. These medics were efficient, and Shane could see they knew what they were doing. And Everlee needed their expertise, not Shane going caveman. The female medic was gentle and quick. She talked into the radio clipped to her collar, relaying short, medical-ese details Shane didn’t understand, to another female voice, maybe a doctor. It was hard to differentiate. They both sounded so competent, so—medical. So much smarter than Shane. Like they really could save Everlee.
He shoved to his feet and found himself buttressed on one side by Tuesday, Heston on his other. Tuesday slipped an arm around his waist; Heston’s hand was firm under Shane’s elbow. They were both holding him steady. The two male EMTs who’d come with Kaminski were fast, just as good as she was. Shane was impressed. By then, there were two IVs in Everlee’s arm, one clear with saline, the other dark red with…
“O Negative, universal donor,” the one male EMT told Shane while he wrapped a warm blanket over and under Everlee, preparing her for transport. “I figured you were military, that you’d understand how urgent her condition is. We work with the local hospital. We’re their Life Flight crew, which is why we carry blood. Most EMTs don’t. Trust me, your friend here is in good hands.”
“She’s not my friend—” Shane swallowed hard, afraid if he said anything more, he’d break down.She’s my everything.
“Which hospital are you taking her to?” Heston asked the medics.
Shane didn’t hear the answer. He was too busy watching the room behind Heston fill with police officers and the coroner maybe, if that’s who the white-haired guy attending Astor’s dead body was. A couple gurneys. Several black body bags. He swallowed hard at the carnage in this ugly, crowded space. At sweet Everlee in the middle of it. At the somber backdrop and the stifling darkness of Death around her. Hell couldn’t look any worse.
Shane managed to tell Medic Kaminski, “Wherever you take her, I go too.”Please don’t fight me on that. I can’t let you just take her away like you did last time, not again. Not this time!
She gave him a quick smile full of perfect white teeth. “You bet you are, darlin’. We always have room for one more in our chopper. We ready?” she asked the EMT who’d told Shane about the O Negative.
“Ready to transport as soon as you are, Dot.”
“We should go now,” Shane ordered. “Hurry.”
She shot him a kind, motherly smile. Just like Kelsey might have if she’d been there. It was that same kind of graciousness and open generosity. Lifting to her feet, Kaminski pulled off her blue latex gloves and held a clean hand out for Shane. “Like the gentleman said, we need to hurry,” she told her EMT buddies. “And you are definitely coming with me, Shane Hayes, so I can dress the hole in your arm.”
Shane looked down at his arm. He’d forgotten he’d been shot, too. The pain hadn’t set in yet, too much adrenaline. Too much worry. But there stood Tuesday, at his side, pressing a clump of that same chemically-treated gauze to the bullshit wound on his biceps. Man, she’d even cut his shirt sleeve, and for some dumb reason, his eyes filled with blurry tears. That was the real Tuesday, the much-maligned woman standing there, helping out when she could’ve run and never been seen again. Judging by the tall policeman at her left, the guy with the clipboard under his arm, she’d been answering questions, explaining, and probably defending Everlee and Heston, hopefully herself, and—me.
“Come to the hospital with us?” Shane asked, needing his friends with him more than he’d ever thought he would.
“Well, of course, silly.” The bright smile in her eyes was real and genuine and so much like the Tuesday he’d come to know.
“Get going,” Heston cut in. “We’ll join you later. Got to move the helo so Life Flight can land close enough to transport Ev. Guess they had to land across the street because I parked up top. My bad.”
Shane nodded. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll be with Ev.”
“Where else would you be?” Tuesday asked, her green eyes tender and so damned pretty. “Now go. We’ll join you as soon as we can.”
Shane thanked them both, then turned and again told Kaminski, “Hurry.”
The mission wasn’t over yet. Everlee still had to live.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everlee was rushed into emergency surgery upon arrival, and Shane was directed to wait in one of those nondescript beige conference rooms. The kind where family and friends gathered and drank too much coffee, and worried and waited. Detective Senz showed up shortly after he arrived. For well over two hours, Shane explained, re-explained, then re-re-explained every step he and Everlee had taken since they’d entered Little Rock airspace. He showed Detective Senz the crime scene photos on his phone. Explained why and how they’d tracked Astor to her hotel suite. Which federal agency had assigned the duty to a private contractor. What gave them legal authority. Which contractor. Why. Over and over. Around and around. He and Detective Senz went over every last detail until Shane was sick and tired of repeating himself.
Enter Alex with two venti Starbuck coffees. Smart man. Everything changed then. Alex tackled Little Rock’ finest head-on, almost confrontationally, as if he had a chip on his shoulder that Shane was being questioned at all. Told Senz he needed to check with his chief, get his son of a bitchin’ story straight, that this was a federal affair, not local. That The TEAM had been contracted to apprehend Astor and ensure Ms. Smart’s safety, and to stop badgering his agents.