Page 22 of Covert Operation
That doesn’t make me feel any better. I let Pierce go, turning my attention to the exam rooms. I peek in each one as I rush past, seeing a few familiar faces and a couple of men I don’t know, before coming to the one I’m seeking out.
All the air rushes from my lungs when I see Zeke’s big body stretched out on the exam table. He’s upright and talking and doesn’t look too worse for wear.
Outside of the bloody bandage Eli’s peeling off his right shoulder.
I swallow hard as the gauze pulls away to reveal a hole in his skin. There’s an actualhole in his body. The shock of seeing ithas me gasping loud enough to pull both his and Eli’s attention my way.
“Savannah.” Zeke tries to get up, but Eli plants a gloved hand at the center of his bare chest, shoving him back down.
“You can get up in a minute. I need to get you bandaged so I can treat everyone else.”
Eli goes to work cleaning out the wound and I cringe at the sight of all the red-tinted saline trickling free. Zeke doesn’t flinch as the doctor pokes and prods, checking him over before quickly placing a bandage on both the front and back side of his shoulder. The coffee I enjoyed so much climbs up my throat as I stare at the splotches of blood dried on his skin and matting the hair across his chest.
“Breathe, Savannah.” Zeke’s voice is low and deep. “I’m fine.”
I manage to suck in a breath. “You’re not fine.” I swallow, fighting against the beverage attempting to make a repeat performance. “There’s a hole in your shoulder.” I press my hands to my hot cheeks as I amend: “Two holes.”
“Only counts as one hole.” Eli stands and peels off his gloves.
I scoff, outraged at how casual the company physician is being about this. “What? There are two holes in his skin. I just watched you patch them both up.”
“I don’t make the rules.” Eli tosses Zeke a foil packet on his way to the door. “Here’s an antibiotic. If you decide you want pain killers let me know.”
Zeke tears open the pouch and tosses the pill between his lips. “I’m good.” He swallows the medication without the aid of liquid and I can almost feel the thing get lodged in my own throat.
I shoot Eli’s retreating form a glare as I stomp to the cabinet holding the mini fridge I just stocked a few days ago. “Didn’t even get you freaking water,” I mumble as I crouch down and pull a bottle free. I open it then pass it off to where Zeke lies on the table, watching me with the same intensity that used to seem so intimidating.
Now it sends the air from my lungs for a different reason.
He’s back. I tried my best to be fine while he was gone, but it was really freaking difficult. For now, this man is my crutch. He makes it easier to breathe. Easier to be brave. Easier to believe I really can be okay again.
And I hated every second he wasn’t here.
“Hey.” He reaches for my hand, the solid warmth of his palm holding mine tight. “Look at me, Savannah.”
“I am looking at you.” I can’t stop. There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere.
And Eli just freaking left him like that.
“My eyes, Savannah.” He releases my hand, lifting his injured arm to press a finger under my chin, forcing my gaze to his face. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“I strongly disagree.” I turn away, irritated at him now too. How can he claim to be okay when he’s still crusted with evidence to the contrary? “You were shot and then you had to fly all the way home like that.” I yank open the cabinet above the sink, pulling out one of the washcloths stacked inside. “It’s freaking ridiculous.”
I understand the reasoning, but it’s still stupid.
Flipping on the hot water, I let it warm up before soaking the cloth, wringing out the excess, and turning to where Zeke lies. I start with his arm, gently wiping away the reddish-brown smears along his bicep. “He didn’t even clean you off.”
Zeke is perfectly still as I work, his gaze fused to my face. “He needs to take care of everyone. Cleanup isn’t high on his list right now.”
I lift the glare I’m still carrying for Eli to Zeke’s face. “It still pisses me off.”
Zeke’s lips lift at the corners. “I’ll pass that along.”
Turning away, I run the washcloth under the tap, rinsing it out before going back to work. “Are you allowed to tell me what happened?” I frown as I reach the edge of the bandage. “Besides you not being as careful as you said you’d be.”
“Someone was just a little more serious about their goals than we expected.” Zeke says it like it’s not a big deal. “It happens sometimes.”
I move to the other side of the bandage, working along the line of his collarbone, the pit in my stomach growing with each passing second. “I didn’t know you were hurt. No one told me.” It comes out softer than I intended. More whisper than anything.