Chapter 3
Now that he’d managed to get to relative safety, Saul could feel all the adrenaline that had been fueling his escape drain out of him like someone had pulled the plug on his energy.
Pain and exhaustion pulled at every part of his body, actively pitted against each other. Neither one allowing the other to take hold, although there was a good chance he might just pass out very soon.
Saul wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d lost a lot of blood. Knew he should have sought treatment immediately after the shooting, but there hadn't been the time nor the opportunity, and there was still a good amount of damage control he needed to do before he could take it easy.
He needed to make sure he hadn’t been followed, that he couldn’t be tracked or traced. That he wasn’t putting anyone here on Elysium in danger.
Oh yeah, and he needed to get his shoulder looked at.
The woman - Haley? Bailey? Stevie? he couldn’t remember her name - had been a surprise.
Saul hadn’t dared radio ahead in case his transmissions were intercepted.
He’d taken a circuitous route to the island, initially sticking to international flight paths close to the Dominican Republic before peeling off and heading towards Miami, occasionally flying low enough to trick anyone trailing him into thinking he was landing.
It was fortunate that there were so many hundreds of islands in the Bahamas and that his shareholding in the Eden resort could not be traced directly to him, effectively disguising his real destination.
But someone in his position could never be too careful. Especially when he’d been compromised.
Right now though, it was just years of training and undercover experience that was keeping his thought processes clear, since his body was rapidly shutting down.
Saul's vision blurred as he clutched the towel the woman had given him to his wounded shoulder, and he was having trouble concentrating on the side of the conversation he could hear.
Thankfully, she didn’t say anything that raised any red flags in his waning awareness.
When she returned and pressed a damp cloth to his sweaty, burning forehead, it felt like heaven.
Saul tried to concentrate on where he was.
His initial plan had been to land, store his helicopter out of sight, and head for the privacy of his own private cabana so the fewest number of people possible knew about his arrival.
In retrospect, that had been incredibly short sighted, since he hadn’t taken into account just how impaired he’d been by the shot.
Nor the fact that he didn’t have any transport to his island home and wasn’t in a fit enough state to walk it.
It was humbling to realize that the sharp organization skills he trusted his life to were so compromised in the face of pain and trauma.
But as he lay back on the comfortable couch in the home of the angel who had come to his rescue, he thought perhaps this was better.
No one would find him in a place he’d never expected to be himself.
As Saul's consciousness wavered, the last thing he remembered was the woman speaking softly on the phone. Her voice was low and urgent, though he couldn't make out the words. He tried to focus, to stay alert, but the pain and blood loss were taking their toll.
It seemed like no time had passed at all before a sharp knock at the door jolted him back to awareness.
The woman, who had changed into linen pants and a light sweater, hurried to answer it, and Saul tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.
He cursed silently at his vulnerability.
"Thank God you're here," the woman said, ushering someone inside.
Fuck! Who had she called? Didn’t he tell her not to contact anyone?
His head was woolly, but he struggled to get up off the couch, eying the French doors which looked like they were miles away in his wavering vision.
He hadn’t managed to get his feet underneath him before he registered hurrying footsteps, and a strong hand landed on his shoulder.
“Saul! It’s okay, it’s only me,” a familiar voice placated before Saul could panic.
“Luca…” he greeted weakly, relief seeping through his pathetic fight-or-flight response as he collapsed back onto the couch.
Luca kneeled on the floor beside him, his swarthy face etched with concern. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, mio amico?” he asked, his Italian accent made stronger by worry.
“You don’t want to know, my friend,” Saul replied, returning the pleasantries. Capturing Luca’s worried gaze, he reiterated, “You really don’t!”
Much to his relief, Luca nodded once, reassuring Saul he understood the secrecy required. “I’ve brought Blake with me,” Luca murmured, referring to the island's resident doctor. “Don’t worry, he understands the necessity for discretion.”
Saul nodded weakly, grateful for Luca and the woman’s foresight. As if on cue, a tall, lean man with salt-and-pepper hair entered the room, carrying a large medical bag.
"Dr. Blake, I presume," Saul managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor nodded curtly and approached the couch. "Saul Stephens… your reputation precedes you. Let's take a look at that shoulder, shall we?"
As Blake began to examine the wound, Saul's eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings more clearly for the first time.
The woman who had rescued him hovered nervously in the background, her hands twisting together.
Saul caught her eye and managed a feeble smile of gratitude.
She returned it tentatively before ducking out of the room, presumably to give them privacy, and he made a mental note to ask Luca about her.
Dr. Blake was quick and efficient, cleaning and examining the wound. "You're lucky," he said after a few tense minutes. "The bullet passed clean through, missing any major arteries or bones. But you've lost a lot of blood and there's always a risk of infection."
Well, that was the best of a bad situation, he supposed.
Saul gritted his teeth as the doctor shot him up, first with a local anesthetic, so he could stitch the wounds.
Then topped it off with a second shot. “I’m giving you an intravenous first-generation cephalosporin antibiotic,” he informed as he administered the shot.
“And I’m including Gentamicin to be on the safe side.
In any other circumstance, I’d be recommending a hospital stay, but since Luca says that’s not possible, this is the next best thing. ”
Most of what he said went straight over Saul’s head, but he understood the essence of it.
“You need to drink plenty of hydrating fluids. I’ll leave some supplements to add, and for the next few days, you need to eat foods that contain plenty of iron and vitamins C and B.
You also need to avoid strenuous activities, including cardio exercise. ”
Blake stood and removed the blue silicon gloves from his hand in a practiced move, then dug around in his bag for several different packets and sachets.
“I’ll also leave an oral antibiotic, and for tonight at least, but possibly longer, you need to stay with your shoulder elevated above your heart, which will mean sleeping sitting up. ”
“I can manage that, thanks doc,” Saul murmured, feeling his awareness starting to wane as the drugs took effect.
“You’ll feel the pain once the anesthesia wears off, so I’m leaving some heavy-duty painkillers for you, too. Take them. You need the rest.”
He nodded, feeling sleep pulling at him, but he fought it off, needing to address one more thing. "Luca," he murmured, and his friend leaned in close. "The woman who found me, this is her place, right? What’s her name?”
Luca chuckled softly. "Even half-dead, you're still charming the ladies, eh? Don't worry, she’s a loyal, trusted employee.”
He knew from the words, Luca had read between the lines to what Saul was really asking… Was he safe here?
“Her name is Sadie, by the way. Sadie Jones. She’s our resident psychologist. She’ll take good care of you.”
Before they left, Blake and Luca helped Saul into the bedroom and got him changed out of his soiled suit.
Sponging off the worst of the blood from his skin, they left him in his underwear and the doctor piled pillows behind his back, while Luca placed a spare set of clothing he’d thoughtfully brought along, on the bedside chair.
Then, after murmured words his floating mind couldn’t hope to follow, they settled him on a bed of beautifully cool, crisp sheets, wafted by a lush, fragrant breeze that tempered his hot, clammy skin.
Feeling safe and unexpectedly cared for, Saul finally allowed the blackness taunting the edges of his consciousness to claim him, and succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.