“Down!” Preservation instincts kicking into overdrive, he managed to shove Hoyt out of the way and still avoid the spray of bullets punching holes through the back wall.
“What the fuck!” Cody yelled in his ear. “Who’s shooting?”
“You tell me, asshole!” Shoulder pinned to the side of an old set of school lockers, he did a quick check on Hoyt’s position. On the opposite side of the crumbling concrete floor, a shoe disappeared under the frame of the cot. “Give me a target, Babbitt! Where the fuck is the bastard?”
“I’ve got nothing on thermal. Hang in there, dipshit. I’m comin’ in hot.”
Adrenaline pumping through his veins hard and fast, Grant kept his gun pointed at the door. He didn’t anticipate the shooter would come through the wall opposite him. Rotten plywood flying like somebody opened a hole with explosives, a body materialized out of nowhere, and he opened fire, hitting center mass multiple times to little effect.
Momentum carrying the man forward, Grant shoved off the wall to avoid being pinned. They collided with the force of two semis and went down hard, rolling and punching amid the debris. Guns knocked out of both their hands, he went for the only other weapon he had.
Too slow. Before he could jam his switchblade into the soft tissue under the shooter’s chin, a vice clamped down on his wrist, and control of the knife became a two-handed battle of wills.
On the bottom of the human waste pile, ribs screaming in pain, Grant couldn’t get the leverage he needed to thrust the knife up. All the shooter had to do was wait for Grant’s strength to give out, turn the blade, and use it against him.
A classic no-win situation.
Until Cody executed a killer body slam on the man’s head, burying the knife to the hilt.
Then it was lights out motherfucker as Hoyt made a getaway through the hole in the wall.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Adam stoodat the side of the table where the woman lay and mentally cataloged her injuries. He didn’t need to see beneath the sheet covering her. He’d been the one to cut her clothes off while Doc started an IV.
A quick visual inspection had been enough.
“Do you want me to swab for DNA?” Doc asked, finishing up with the stitches.
“No.” Sexually assaulted or not, when she told him who did this, retribution would be swift and commensurate to what she’d suffered. He didn’t need additional evidence. The bruises circling her wrist would suffice.
Held against her will, the woman had been cuffed to God only knew what. Eyes drawn to the hand he cradled in his palm, his blood ran hot as he brushed his thumb over delicate skin, careful to avoid the purple contusions.
He couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t allow it. Every time he tried, she grew restless despite the intravenous sedation, and Doc needed her to lie still. Not really a hardship—holding her hand—he liked the feel of her palm in his.
Warm and feminine, her fingers were long. Her nails short and polish free. And surprised by the strength of her grip, he found himself wondering what she did for a living.
“That’s it,” Doc announced, snipping the thread before putting his scissors down. “Seventy-four stitches if you’re keeping notes.”
Adam acknowledged he was with a sharp nod. “Anything else? Internal injuries?”
“Nothing that stood out in the physical exam.” He stripped off his surgical gloves and threw them into the garbage bin pulled out from under the counter. “I’ve got her on antibiotics for the sepsis, morphine for the pain, and the saline drip will take care of the dehydration, as to the rest”—Doc waved his hand over the woman’s body taking in the myriad of cuts and bruises—“she’ll carry the scars, but physically, she’ll heal.”
As Doc moved to the sink to wash his hands, Adam heard what he hadn’t said loud and clear. Imprisoned, beaten, and possibly raped, the woman’s mental health had to be factored into her recovery. A longer-term problem, and not one that was his, but it angered him anyway.
“What now?” Doc asked shutting off the water. He made quick work of drying his hands before tossing the towel aside and casually leaning against the counter, arms and ankles crossed.
“When will she wake?” As injured as she was, Adam couldn’t risk her being here longer than necessary. Even though he’d brought her to the cabin as opposed to the lodge, he still needed to exercise a high degree of caution. He had the JTT to consider. Their safety and security came first.
“The sedation will burn off soon, but I suspect she’ll sleep until the morphine is out of her system. So, sometime tomorrow afternoon would be my best guess.”
“Mobile?”
Doc shrugged. “Depends. The knife wound is one thing. The infection another. She’ll need to be monitored for fever overnight and have another round of antibiotics in the morning. Then the IV can come out. How soon she gets on her feet is up to her.”
Focus drawn to her face, Adam studied her features and liked the plumpness of her full lips, the rosy blush infusing her cheeks, and the dark beauty mark under the high curve of her left brow. Although hidden from him now, the heat in the cobalt snap of her eyes as they locked on his wasn’t something he would soon forget.
Yeah. She’d pierced him with those laser-blue irises, and he needed her up and gone as soon as possible. But not before she gave him a name, because whoever had done this would pay.
