Page 45 of Some Like It Hot

“Larke—”

She spun, gave him a look that could shut him down. “He’s hurt, Riley.”

Riley nodded, but his gaze went to Thorne, who looked up and met his eyes.

“Don’t…”

Thorne nodded, and as Larke sat beside him on the sofa, he let out a long, almost pained breath.

She removed the towels. A tiny bullet hole was embedded in the man’s shoulder.

“There’s no exit wound,” she said. “You need a hospital and a surgeon to get that bullet out.”

Thorne shook his head, and that’s when Orion piped up.

“That’s why we need you, Larke. We gotta take it out.”

She glanced up at him. “You’re more of a surgeon than I am.”

“No. You were a combat medic. I know you were trained to do field surgery when needed.”

Really? Riley raised an eyebrow.

Her mouth tightened. “Fine. Let’s get him on the table.”

Riley tucked the gun into his belt, then helped Orion clear the kitchen table, a long, rough-hewn trestle table, for, uh,surgery? “This is crazy. We need to take him to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.” Thorne’s words ended on a swift, hard groan as Larke helped him off the sofa.

“Orion, you get him on the table and prepped. I need to take a look at Riley’s wound.” She advanced on Riley and grabbed his hand.

“I’m fine—”

“Sit down.” She kicked out a kitchen chair, as if angry.

He plopped down, and she donned some plastic gloves, then grabbed a pair of scissors from her bag.

“Hey—wait,wait—I like this shirt.”

She leaned back, her pale blue-green eyes rich with challenge. Yeah, she wasreallymad. “Okay, tough guy. Raise your arm over your head so I can—”

“Fine,” Riley snapped.

“I’ll get you a new shirt,” Orion said, and Riley glanced at him. He was helping Thorne climb onto the table. He’d laid a sheet down under him.

She snipped his shirt, up the arm, into the neckline, and the shirt fell off him. By her expression, he’d done real damage to his stitches. “You’ve torn out about half your stitches here. We’ll have to go back to the hospital—”

“If you can do surgery in the field, you can throw in a few stitches, can’t you?”

She sighed. “Always have to be the tough guy.”

“Look who’s talking.” He reached out and lightly caressed a bruise on her jaw, something she’d probably gotten when she tripped.

She sighed. “I have some medical adhesive—that should work.”

“Glue. Awesome. Paste me up, Doc.”

“Not a doctor—”