Chapter Two #3
She was back in the bedroom and tugging off Wilder’s boots and then cutting away his shirt.
It alarmed her that he didn’t protest or make some kind of sexual innuendo.
The sense of urgency in her grew at an alarming rate.
She was furious with herself. She’d been feeling sorry for herself and then caught up in her very unprofessional sexual attraction while Wilder was most likely bleeding internally.
She hadn’t even asked him if he’d been shot or stabbed in hand-to-hand combat.
What kind of nurse was she? Besotted. Silly. Foolish. Selfish.
“Stop what you’re thinking. I like you just the way you are.”
She cut his shirt off. It was soaked with blood.
Soaked. How had she not seen that? Smelled it?
She knew what blood smelled like. She pulled regular shifts in the emergency room.
Her heart began to pound at the sight of his mangled body.
He didn’t just have one wound; he had several.
To her horror, there definitely was a gunshot wound.
The others appeared to have been done by a knife.
“Your eyes are closed. Don’t even tell me you’re reading my expression.” She wanted to keep him talking, keep him alive until Rainier arrived. She never panicked. That was what made her such a good surgical nurse. She never lost her nerve or her focus.
A faint smile softened the edges of his mouth. “I know you. You’re going to blame yourself the way you always do. Why were you crying, babe? I need to know.”
His body seemed to be all muscle, yet right then he had multiple holes in it. Too many, all on his left side, front to back. She didn’t see how he could possibly survive such wounds.
“Getting a line into you so your veins don’t collapse.” She began to set one up immediately, grateful she always had a full medical bag for emergencies.
“Tell me why you were crying.”
“You’re so annoying.” She poured exasperation into her voice when she wanted to weep.
That brief smile was barely there, but she saw his reaction. He was hanging in there with her. She sent up a prayer to the universe that Rainier would hurry.
“I believe we established that as fact.”
“My mother called for the millionth time, demanding that she and the senator come here to hide, regroup and turn this conspiracy theory to their advantage. She refuses to take responsibility even though she’s known that he’s guilty all along.”
“You certain?” His eyes remained closed, and his voice was a low murmur. She had to lean into him to catch his words.
“You know he is, Wilder. There’s no way you and Rainier didn’t research the senator, especially after he showed up with Shabina’s former kidnapper. I was surprised he wasn’t on a hit list right then.”
The line was in his arm, and she washed as much blood from his body as possible.
Misha raced through the house to the front door, clearly greeting someone she knew and liked.
Relief swept through her as Rainier hurried in carrying a large medical bag.
Behind him came two other men. She recognized Rush and Altair, known as Falcon, both good friends of Rainier and Wilder.
They were all business, allowing Harlow to step back and breathe while Wilder was examined.
She was used to Rainier, knew him as well as anyone in their circle of friends could, and she watched him carefully while he went over every wound meticulously.
More men arrived with sophisticated equipment that was quickly and efficiently set up, allowing Rainier to see inside the wounds and to the damage done.
At no time did his expression change, and his hands remained gentle on Wilder, but he swore under his breath repeatedly, so much so that her heart sank.
“Not good,” Wilder said. He coughed. “If I’m not going to make it, you need to tell me, Rainier. Got things I’ll need to take care of.”
“You’re just pissing me off,” Rainier said. He moved to Harlow’s side and waved toward Wilder. Instantly, the surgical team went to work prepping their patient. “With me,” he snapped at Harlow, and took a step away from the bed.
“Harlow.” Wilder actually struggled to sit.
Everyone in the room hissed a warning at him. Rainier stalked to his side to lay a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move.”
“I’m right here,” Harlow assured.
Wilder ignored Rainier, focusing on Harlow. His eyes were alive with pain. “Kiss me.”
Harlow’s heart accelerated until she thought she might have a heart attack. “Wilder, you’re out of your mind. He needs oxygen,” she added, glancing up at Rainier.
“I’m kissing you once before I die,” he insisted, and made another move to try to sit up.
Rainier applied more pressure, holding him down. “Harlow, kiss the idiot. Right now. Then we’re putting him out. You aren’t dying, Wilder. I’m so pissed at you; I’m going to save your life and then kill you myself.”
“Get in line,” Harlow snapped, glaring at Wilder. “I have to kiss you in front of all these strangers? And you’re dying in my guest room. That’s not romantic.”
Rainier practically shoved her against the edge of the bed. “Get to it; he doesn’t have all night.”
“It’s romantic that you’re the one I want to kiss before I die,” Wilder pointed out. His fingers circled her wrist with surprising strength, and he tugged to bring her down to him.
“It isn’t a compliment when your other choice would be Rainier.” But she was already leaning toward him, terrified of waiting. He was that stubborn, a man who would refuse to cooperate unless he got his way.
In a kind of desperation, she leaned over Wilder and found herself staring into his light green eyes. At once the room fell away and she found herself drowning in the mixture of pain and need she saw there.
“Mon rêve,” he whispered.
He struggled to touch her, his hand lifting off the bed.
Instantly, she adjusted her position, sliding her arm under his fingers.
Her heart melted at the soft whisper of mon rêve.
My dream. He was not in his right mind, but it didn’t matter to her.
This was Wilder, a good man, always so alone and set apart from everyone. Like her.
She brushed his lips gently with hers. His fingers tightened around her arm, and he opened his mouth to hers, gentle but insistent, taking over briefly so that the taste of him would always be with her.
The rush of heat through her veins was unexpected, as was the crackling electricity leaping over her skin.
She pulled back and instantly was aware of the team surrounding Wilder, ready to move in. She brushed her finger down his face. “You can do this, Wilder. You can stay alive.”
Wilder looked past her to Rainier. “Something happens to me, Rainier, you take care of her.” Wilder’s lashes fell, concealing the pain in his eyes.
“She’s Shabina’s family. That means she’s my family,” Rainier stated gruffly as his team swooped in and finished prepping Wilder.
“She’s mine. You do this for me.”
Wilder slurred his words slightly, and Harlow gripped Rainier’s arm. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have touched him, but she was terrified for Wilder.
“Did you hear me? She’s my family. You want to call her yours, you’d better get your act together, live, and then ask my permission.”