Chapter 30 Bonnie
BONNIE
He’s been gone for three hours when I hear the engine.
I’m at the window in seconds, heart pounding, gun in my shaking hands. The truck lurches up the dirt road, headlights bouncing wildly. Driving too fast. Too erratic.
Something’s wrong.
The truck skids to a stop in front of the safe house. The driver’s door opens, and Ghost half falls out, catching himself on the frame.
Even from here, I can see the blood.
“Oh my god.” The gun drops from my hands.
I run.
Ghost is trying to walk, but his left side is soaked red. His face is pale. Sweat drips down his temples despite the cool desert air.
“Ghost!” I reach him just as his knees buckle.
I catch him—barely. He’s too heavy, too solid, and I’m too weak from days of morning sickness. We both sink to the ground.
“Got shot,” he mutters. Blood on his lips. “Savage Legion.”
“Don’t talk. Save your strength.” I press my hand to his side, and he hisses through his teeth. My palm comes away red and slick. “We need to get you inside.”
“Can’t…walk.”
“You have to. Come on.” I get under his arm, taking as much of his weight as I can. “You’re not dying out here in the dirt.”
He tries. God, he tries. But he can barely stay upright. We make it five feet before he stumbles. I scream in frustration and fear, digging deep for strength I don’t have.
“Move, Ghost! Fucking move!”
That gets him going. Step by agonizing step, we make it to the door. Through the living room. He collapses on the couch and doesn’t get back up.
I run to the bathroom. Grab towels, the first aid kit Ghost showed me, anything that might help. My hands shake so badly that I drop half of it.
When I get back, Ghost’s eyes are closed.
“No!” I slap his face. Hard. “Wake up! You don’t get to pass out on me!”
His eyes flutter open. Unfocused. “Bonnie…”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” I press a towel to his side. Blood soaks through immediately. “Stay with me. Talk to me.”
“Hurts.”
“I know. I know it hurts.” Tears stream down my face, but I keep pressure on the wound. “Where’s the bullet?”
“Still in.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I’ve never done this. Never had to deal with a gunshot wound. I’ve stitched up minor cuts, watched Jamie patch up brothers after bar fights, but nothing like this.
Ghost is dying, and I have no idea how to save him.
“Okay.” I wipe my eyes with my shoulder. “Okay. I can do this.”
I grab the first aid kit and dump everything on the floor. Scissors. Gauze. Tape. Alcohol. Tweezers.
Tweezers.
I can get the bullet out with tweezers.
“This is going to hurt,” I tell him.
“Already hurts.”
I cut away his shirt. The wound is a small dark hole in his left side, just below his ribs. Blood pumps out with each heartbeat.
I pour alcohol over my hands. Over the tweezers. Over the wound.
Ghost jerks and swears. “Fuck!”
“Sorry. Sorry.” I position the tweezers at the entrance. “I have to get the bullet out or you’ll get infected.”
“Do it.”
I push the tweezers in.
Ghost arches off the couch with a roar of pain. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, crushing. But he doesn’t pull me away. “Keep going,” he grits out.
Deeper. The tweezers scrape against something hard. The bullet.
I adjust my grip and try to get a hold on it. My hands are slippery with blood and sweat.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Come on.”
I feel the tweezers close around something solid. Pull.
The bullet slides out. Small, deformed, and covered in blood. I drop it on the floor and immediately press gauze to the wound. Ghost goes limp, panting.
“Done. It’s out.” My voice is shaking as badly as my hands. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“Bonnie.” His voice is fading. “Gun. Get the gun.”
“What? No, I need to—”
“Savage Legion.” His eyes fight to stay open. “Might’ve followed me. Need to…protect yourself.”
Terror floods through me. I forgot. In the panic of getting him inside and digging out the bullet, I forgot he’d been ambushed.
They could be coming.
I grab the gun I dropped by the door. Check the clip. Loaded. Safety off.
“I’ve got it.” I return to the couch, gun in one hand, fresh gauze in the other. “I’m armed. Now let me focus on keeping you alive.”
I pack the wound with gauze. Layer after layer, trying to stop the bleeding. Ghost’s breath comes in shallow gasps.
“Stay with me.” I tie the gauze in place with strips of a torn towel. “Don’t you dare pass out.”
“Trying.”
“Try harder!” My voice breaks. “You can’t leave me. Not now. Not like this.”
I grab more towels and press them against the wound. Lean my weight into it. Blood seeps through, but slower now.
“You’re going to be fine,” I tell him. Tell myself. “This is nothing. You’ve had worse. You told me about Afghanistan. You told me about that mission where—”
“Bonnie.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
A laugh hiccups out of me. Even bleeding out, he wants me to shut up.
“Make me.”
His lips twitch. Almost a smile. Then his eyes slide closed again.
“No!” I shake him. “Open your eyes! Ghost, open your fucking eyes!”
They flutter. Stay half-mast. He’s fading.
“Please.” I lean over him, still pressing the wound. “Please don’t leave me. I need you. The baby needs you.”
“Baby’s…yours.”
“She’s ours. Yours and mine and Ash’s and Titan’s.” Tears drip onto his chest. “She needs her father. All three of her fathers. Don’t you dare die before you get to meet her.”
His hand finds mine. Squeezes weakly. “Not…dying.”
“Good. Because I’ll kill you myself if you do.”
That gets another almost-smile.
I hold pressure on the wound until my arms scream. Until I can’t feel my fingers. Ghost’s breathing evens out. His color improves slightly. The bleeding slows to a seep.
I did it. I actually did it.
But he’s not out of danger. Not even close.
“Ghost?” I touch his face. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to call Ash.”
“No signal.”
Fuck. He’s right. The cell service out here is shit.
But I have to try.
I grab my phone from the table. One bar. Flickering in and out.
It’s enough.
I dial Ash. The call connects, but the quality is terrible—static and breaking up.
It rings once. Twice.
He answers. “Bonnie?”
“Ash—” My voice cracks. “Ghost is hurt!”
Static. Then his voice, sharp with alarm. “—what?”
“He got shot! He just got back, and there’s blood everywhere, and I don’t know what to do—”
More static. I move closer to the window, desperate for a better signal.
“—where is he shot?”
“His side. Left side. I got the bullet out, but the bleeding won’t completely stop.” I’m crying now, can’t help it. “Ash, I’m scared. What if he—”
“—pressure on the wound. Don’t let up. Keep him conscious.”
The call breaks apart into static.
“Ash? Ash!”
“—can’t leave. Under attack. Hold on—”
The call drops.
I stare at the phone. The compound is under attack. Ash can’t come.
We’re alone.
I look at Ghost on the couch. His eyes are closed again, chest rising and falling too shallowly.
My hand goes to my stomach. To the tiny life growing inside me.
I’m not losing either of them.
I set the phone down. Pick up the gun. Check the magazine again and then head to the truck to get the supplies he bought. Then I drag a chair to the window where I can see anyone approaching and settle in with the gun across my lap.
If Savage Legion comes for us, they’re in for a hell of a surprise.
I will protect my baby.
I will protect this man.