Chapter Thirty-Seven
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“ Cassie ...” Back braced against the rough cedar bark of the tree he’d taken cover behind, Tristan struggled up onto one knee, his left hand tucked into his waistband to take the strain off his wounded arm.
It was broken, the blood soaking his chest and left side. His chest hurt, his ribs bruised from the seatbelt during impact.
The pain came in rapid waves, making him lightheaded.
His right hand clutched his useless pistol. He’d emptied the full magazine during the earlier firefight. The rest of the ammo was back in his truck. He’d managed to kill the accomplice, but Quinn was still out there.
He’d heard her shout at the bastard. Then the shots. But he couldn’t see her. Didn’t know what had happened...
He had to get to her. Had to stop Quinn.
Flattening a hand against the trunk, he forced himself to his feet. Swayed a moment, the forest spinning around him.
Cassie. Have to save her.
He took a staggering step. Then another, fighting to stay on his feet.
Through the trees, he saw her.
She was standing over Quinn’s body, pistol dangling at her side as the rain drenched her.
A wave of sheer relief almost sent him crashing to his knees. “Cass,” he rasped out.
Her head turned toward him. She holstered her weapon and ran to him as he staggered closer.
Tristan caught her to him with his good arm, his hand splayed across the back of her head as he pulled her face into his throat.
Then his legs gave out. Their knees hit the ground, but they didn’t let go of each other.
“Oh, God, baby...” He held her, shaking, his face buried in the short cap of her hair. “Cass.”
“Oh, Jesus, you’re hit bad.” Her voice shook as she scrambled to take off her thin jacket.
He’d lost a lot of blood. He was dizzy and cold, his body shivering. “You...okay?”
She nodded jerkily and wrapped the jacket around his upper arm. He sucked in a breath, his vision going white when she tied the sleeves tightly around the wound.
Her shoulders hitched. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Gotta s-stop the bleeding.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice. But she had nothing to be sorry for.
She’d done what she had to do. “It’s o-over n-n-ow,” he said between chattering teeth.
“You ended it, Cass.” He leaned into her, huddled there together while the rain drenched them.
He was aware of her talking to someone. On her phone?
Stay awake. You have to stay awake.
It was Cassie’s voice, he realized. Urgent in his ear as she held him. Sirens wailed somewhere nearby. “Help is on the w-way. Just h-hold on. You have to h-hold on for m-me, Tris.”
He nodded but didn’t answer. She was shaking as hard as he was, her teeth chattering. Tristan could feel his strength draining away. The blood loss and shock were getting dangerous.
His drooping eyelids snapped open when he heard shouts and running footsteps. Gavin appeared through the trees, racing toward them.
He glanced at Rob’s body and kept running, then dropped down beside them. “How bad are you hit?”
“P-pretty bad.” It burned like hellfire. His left hand and fingers were numb. His whole body was heavy. Exhaustion dragging him down like wet cement.
Gavin pulled Cassie away from him. “You hurt?”
“N-no. It’s his bl-blood.”
Tristan blinked as more people crowded around them. Cops. “Let’s get him to the road.”
Gav bent, grabbed him around the ribs and hoisted him up. It felt like a white-hot poker had just gone through his arm. Tristan’s eyes shot open, and he clenched his teeth against a bellow of pain.
Cassie grabbed his right hand and held on tight, keeping pace as Gavin carried him toward the road. Tristan saw his twin’s vehicle. Cassie ran ahead to open the front passenger door.
Another vehicle sped up. Decker. Their brother got out, his expression hard as iron as he took in the scene. “Jesus.” He broke into a run.
“Grab my first aid kit,” Gavin called out as he settled Tristan on the seat.
Gavin laid the automatic seat flat. Tristan blinked slowly at him, trying to focus his blurry vision. Decker’s face appeared above him. He must’ve gotten in the other side.
Tristan hissed in a breath as his brothers cut the sleeve of his shirt away to expose the wound.
“H-how bad?” Cassie asked from the back, her voice anxious.
“It’s deep. Think it nicked an artery,” Gavin said, looking up at him. “Can you move it?”
He tried to shake his head. His whole upper arm burned and throbbed, like it was on fire with a migraine inside it. Nausea swirled in his belly.
“Get his legs up,” Decker ordered, and the two of them propped his shoes up on the dash. Cassie leaned over him. Cradling his head in her arms, her urgent voice in his ear telling him to hold on, the ambulance was here.
Next thing he knew, he was blinking up at the glare of the dome light above him. More lights appeared. Strobing red and blue flashing over the fabric on the ceiling.
“What happened?” he mumbled, struggling to focus.
“You passed out.” Gavin was leaning over him, his face anxious as he applied pressure to the dressing he’d wound around Tristan’s upper arm. “Bleeding’s slowed, but you need fluids stat.”
“Feel sick.” His heart was racing way too fast. It was hard to catch his breath.
“Be surprised if you didn’t.”
“Breathe slow,” Decker said, his huge frame filling the open doorframe.
“Where’s Cassie?” he managed.
“Here.” She leaned forward, reached down to grasp his right hand. “Right here.”
“You’re c-cold.”
“I’m okay.” She squeezed his hand tight. “The fire crew just got here. Ambulance is a few minutes away.”
“Don’t w-want ambulance.”
“Too bad.” Gavin shifted his grip. Tristan hauled in a sharp breath, a strangled cry wrenching free.
He must have passed out again, because when he regained awareness Decker and Tristan were putting him on a gurney. The medics checked his vitals and started an IV. He still felt that bastard going into a vein on his good arm.
They changed the dressing on his left arm and repositioned it across his body. He let out a throttled sound, swallowed back the scream clawing up his throat. He was shaking again, his skin slick with a cold sweat.
“Here comes some pain meds,” one of them said. A moment later, Tristan felt like he was floating. The pain receded somewhere into the background, allowing him to breathe again.
He thought he must be dreaming when Cassie climbed into the back and perched beside him.
She leaned over him. Took his face in her hands. “Hey.” Her thumbs moved gently across his cheekbones. Her pretty silver eyes were drenched with tears. “You hanging in there?”
“Yeah.” The ambulance was moving, siren on.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Cassie told him. “They got the bleeding stopped, and they’re giving you fluids to boost your blood volume.”
“Hospital knows you’re on the way,” the medic said. “Surgical team is prepping an O.R. for you.”
Something hard was digging into the back of his thigh. He tried to shift his leg.
Cassie swept a hand under it. Pulled her coat out from under him and quickly took something from the pocket. A phone.
“I took his phone,” she said. And it took him a moment for his drugged brain to fill in the gaps.
Quinn.
Cassie turned it on, the light from the screen illuminating her face.
“What you looking at?” he mumbled.
“His call log.” She scrolled through it, then sucked in a breath, her face paling.
His insides tightened in foreboding. “What?”
She looked at him, a turbulent mixture of pain and disbelief on her face before her eyes hardened like hammered steel. “I have to call Ivy.”