Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nick settled in beside Sloane, her small, cold hand sandwiched between his. She wasn’t just unconscious, she was slack — pallor beyond ashen as her shallow breathing skipped every other beat, as if it took too much energy just to inflate her lungs.
Chase and Rowan rattled off vitals, cutting away Sloane’s clothing, hooking up IVs and monitors. They moved with terrifying speed, confirming Nick’s fear that Sloane had minutes left.
Chase spared Nick a quick glance, the man’s gaze sweeping the length of him. “Colter? How bad are you hurt?”
Nick waved it off, falling onto his ass beside Dalton when his legs buckled, Sloane’s hand still grasped in his. “You focus on Sloane.”
“Saving her won’t do you any good if you’re too dead to appreciate it. So… how bad?”
“Minor. Nothing that’s gonna kill me before we reach the hospital. Just… I can’t lose her, Chase. Not like this. Not when I just realized…”
He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit that he loved her out loud in case Karma decided cash in now. Claim her in return for all the times he’d cheated death.
Chase grunted. “You’ve got what looks like a graze, multiple lacerations, and I count at least four bullet strikes to your vest. Can you breathe okay?”
“Breathe? How the hell am I supposed to breathe when Sloane’s…” Nick wouldn’t say that, either. Wouldn’t chance Fate by putting it out into the universe. “That should be me.”
Chase shook his head. “It still might be if you’ve punctured a lung. Just stay down, and let us work.”
Like he had any other choice than to sit there, holding her hand, willing her chest to rise while the monitor played out a frantic rhythm.
Outside, the wind buffeted the chopper, everything rattling as Foster banked over, trees flying past the window. Rain streaked the glass, the occasional flash of sheet lightning flickering across the horizon.
Dalton moved closer, looking as if he planned on catching Nick when he inevitably passed out, when Sloane’s heart monitor flatlined, the steady, eerie tone stopping Nick cold. He tried to shift forward, to yell, beg, something to get her to fight, only to have Dalton hold him back.
His buddy kept Nick’s ass planted on the seat, one hand cinched around his shoulder. “I know you want to help her, but the best thing you can do is let them work. Chase and Rowan are the best.”
Nick looked the man in the eyes. “I’m not doubting that. I’m scared their best won’t be enough.”
Dalton sighed, fingers still digging into Nick’s shoulder as Chase stopped dealing with Sloane’s wound, placed his hands on her chest.
He started compressions, counting out each punishing blow, Sloane’s entire body heaving from the violence of it. Rowan had an oxygen bag over Sloane’s mouth, squeezing it every five cycles, forcing air into her lungs.
Chase muttered under his breath, sweat beading the man’s brow. “Push a milligram of epi.”
Rowan grabbed a syringe, measured out some clear liquid, then injected it into the IV port as Chase kept working, watching the monitor, hands still compressing her chest.
A beep.
Or maybe the steady tone just stopped for a moment, took a breath, then another, until a jagged line bounced across the screen, weak, but there.
Chase rattled off numbers, but all Nick heard was that tone, tapping out a staccato rhythm.
Mapping out his entire future with every ping.
Chase adjusted her IV, shaking his head as he packed more sponges against her side.
“She’s lost way too much blood. Not sure she can wait ten more minutes. Nick? Any idea what blood type she is?”
Nick stared at the blood-soaked rags, throat closed tight, heart barely moving.
“Nick!”
He blinked, everything sliding left and right before slowly coming into focus. “What?”
Chase glanced at Dalton, then back. “Do you know what blood type Sloane is?”
The words took a moment to work through the fog inside his head, but he nodded as he shoved up one sleeve. “Yeah, mine — O neg.”
Chase scoffed. “You can’t afford to lose anymore, buddy. Rowan’s O neg—”
“Rowan needs to help you keep Sloane breathing. I’m fine. So I’m dizzy for a spell, or weak. I have time, Sloane doesn’t, so take the damn blood.”
Chase looked at Dalton again as he shook his head. “And to think everyone claimed Oregon life had tamed that operative side of you. Fine, but just enough to keep her from flatlining again. And you’re being treated as soon as we land. Period.”
“They can work on me once they’re sure she’ll keep breathing.”
“Stubborn as always.”
Chase grabbed the supplies, hooked up a battlefield transfer, that long, red line the only thing registering in Nick’s mind. He’d gladly give her all of it if it meant she’d live.
How this time, maybe he could trade his life for hers.
Dalton kept his hand on Nick’s shoulder, holding him upright when a dull roar sounded in his head, the scenery tilting left and right.
He blinked, and the line was gone, just a strip of white tape on his skin.
Rowan crouched beside him, gauze in hand as she wrapped his leg — the graze from the Reaper.
He tried to tell her to focus on Sloane, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue.
Rowan looked up, tsked as they made eye contact. “Chase is still working on her, so stop staring at me as if I’ve broken some kind of code. The plan is to keep you both breathing and since you gave up a pint of blood…”
He swallowed. “Take more.”
“Any more, and they’re wheeling you straight to the morgue.”
“Don’t care. She needs it. I’ve got it. It’s hers.”
Rowan sighed. “You Spec Op boys are all the same. And we’re on short final for the grass pad. Sloane’s strong enough to wait until she’s inside before they hook up another pint.”
The helicopter shook, flaring off speed before Foster planted it on the ground, the engines spooling down a moment before the doors flew open. A sea of white coats and blue scrubs raced forward, sliding Sloane onto a stretcher.
Nick all but fell out of the chopper behind her, Dalton grabbing him before he hit the mud, holding him upright as they raced beside the gurney.
The hospital doors whooshed open, the long hallway stretching out in front of them.
Nick kept pace, Dalton supporting half his weight, the harsh overhead lights highlighting her pale skin.
How her chest barely moved as she took a shallow, labored breath.
They shuttled her into a trauma room, one of the nurses blocking his way.
Nick pushed through, staying at her side, daring anyone to challenge him.
Chase pulled one of the doctors aside, gesturing at Sloane, then Nick before shouldering up beside him.
His buddy didn’t talk, just stood there, a calm, immovable presence.
The room fell into a frantic form of organized chaos, everyone calling out vitals and meds before rushing her down another hallway and into an elevator.
Nick stayed close, limping along beside the stretcher until Chase tugged him to a halt, shaking his head when Nick took a step.
“Sorry, brother, this is as far as you can go, for now.”
“She can’t be left alone. Not for a moment.”
“She’s got an entire trauma team working on her. You’re the one who needs backup, so…”
Nick shook his head, fell back, nearly cracking his skull on a wall before Dalton lunged at him, caught him mid-air.
Chase motioned to an empty trauma room, following Dalton in as the man half-carried Nick to the exam table. “You need those wounds cleaned and bandaged. Probably a few dozen stitches. And shots, for everything.”
“This isn’t just paranoia. There’s still a kill order out on both of us. If anyone learns we’re here…” Nick raked his hand through his hair. “I would have insisted on a safehouse, had a doctor make a house call, but she needed a damn surgeon with meds and monitors.”
Chase closed the distance, ushered Nick into a seat when he refused to climb onto the table.
“We’re well aware of your current situation.
Greer’s pulling up as we speak. She’s got deputies to man the doors, and they’ll be taking Sloane to an isolated wing that’s currently being retrofitted.
She’ll be the only patient in there, well, along with you and Kessler, though Kessler should be good to go by morning.
And the wing has containment doors that can be sealed off, so we can limit access.
” He clapped Nick on the shoulder. “Not our first rodeo, brother. But you’ll be incapacitated if you don’t get yourself cleaned up. ”
Some of the fight drained out of him, and Nick slumped against the chair rest, the fringes of his vision already blurring into gray.
“We keep this limited to family only. No outside law. No one we can’t personally vouch for sets a foot inside that isolated wing.
Once Kessler’s cleared, he goes to Tierney’s with Spec Op level security watching him around the clock.
Knowing Kessler, he’s got a copy of those files from Prague stashed on some encrypted cloud server.
We need them. Whatever it takes to get the guy to cough them up because without him and the proof, Hill wins. ”
“Zain’s already working out a rotation. And Kash and Nyx will patrol the forest around her place for the next few nights. You know nothing gets past that mutt.”
Nick nodded, the hairs on his neck still prickling, every nerve hyperaware. He glanced at the clock, at how his hands still had her blood smeared across them, then focused on the door. He shouldn’t have left her side, not with the threat still hot.
Dalton moved in front as if he’d read Nick’s thoughts — knew he was a breath away from charging out the door.
“Avery’s standing watch outside the operating room.
You know she won’t let anyone get to her best friend.
And I’ll carry your ass up there once you stop being a jackass and let the doctors fix you. ”
Nick sighed. “I can’t lose her. I…”