Page 32 of When Lies Unfold

“We need to get him on a table and clean his wound before I stitch him up.”

Her head whips around to me and Gordo. “Come on! Now! And don’t jostle him when you carry him to the table.”

Gordo and I exchange a look like The fuck? before I take a menacin’ step forward. “You expect me to believe you’re gonna stitch up his fuckin’ stomach?”

She stares me straight in the eye without any hesitation. “Yes. I do.”

I study her, scourin’ for any indication she’s fuckin’ with me. When I don’t find any, I signal for my men to help us move Andro. In a matter of seconds, we haul my nephew down the hall to the large dinin’ room table.

Lola shoves the fancy centerpiece out of the way without a second thought and we ease Andro onto the table. My other men stand by, their hands on their holstered weapons, unsure of what to do.

She doesn’t hesitate to order them around. “I need paper towels—any towels you can find—and a syringe of lidocaine or whatever the hell you have on hand.”

Livin’ this remote, we keep shit like lidocaine, morphine, and antibiotics on hand for emergencies. But hearin’ her bark out orders with all the confidence in the world is somethin’ else entirely.

“I need plenty of saline to clean this—or a bottle of goddamn vodka—whatever you find first. Scissors, latex gloves, and tweezers.” When they stare at her in disbelief, her frantic tone sharpens. “Now!”

They automatically look at me, and I nod, givin’ ’em permission to heed her orders. “Get her the medical kit from the front closet.”

Lola Arias becomes more and more intriguin’, it seems. Nowhere in her background did it mention that she had any medical experience. Yet the moment my men provide those requested supplies, she yells for someone to grab her sewin’ kit from her bag.

She pulls on the latex gloves and makes quick work of cuttin’ away Andro’s shirt. When she gently touches the area around his wound, he howls in pain and attempts to backhand her, but I catch it in time.

“You’ve done enough.” My words are muted but filled with an obvious reprimand. He wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d kept his cool. If he’d shown that he was a man instead of a punk-ass kid.

Body wrought with tension, Lola glances at the open med kit lyin’ beside her before meetin’ my eyes. “He’ll need an injection of lidocaine?—”

“Don’t let this fuckin’ bitch touch me!”

Her lips flatten with irritation, but her tone is calm when she addresses Andro. “Then you better brace yourself for intense pain.”

His protest is instant. “The fuck? No way am I gonna let you?—”

She cuts him off. “You need this wound closed to prevent infection from setting in.” When he sputters, she continues, talkin’ right over him. “I’d suggest you be as numb as possible.”

She gingerly places her hands along his abdominal area, and a concentrated crease between her brows mars her pretty features. “I need better light over this area.” So focused on her task, she barely offers a thank you when my men bring over two additional lamps.

Lola silently cleans the area before preppin’ Andro for the injection.

“I need him to remain completely still.” She announces this calmly before liftin’ her gaze to mine. “But first, he needs lidocaine before I start suturing.”

“Fuck,” Andro groans, his words slightly slurred from the pain. His whinin’ is a goddamn embarrassment. “Don’t let her do this. She fuckin’ attacked me! Tío, you saw it!”

I ignore him and command Gordo and two of my strongest men to help me restrain him.

Once we’re in place, my eyes briefly meet Lola’s before she draws in a deep breath. She administers the lidocaine with deft movements, and Andro’s body relaxes a fraction.

Without missin’ a beat, she grabs the bottles of saline and cleans the entire wound, the painful-lookin’ streak of split flesh along the bottom of his abdomen just above his waistband.

Carefully blottin’ the area with paper towels, she withdraws a small bottle of cayenne pepper from her things. My eyes track her movements as she sprinkles a liberal amount over the wound.

I frown, and Gordo meets my eyes with another The fuck is she doin’? look.

As if hearin’ our thoughts, Lola mutters without lookin’ up. “It stops excessive bleeding and helps the healing process.” As an almost afterthought, she adds, “And it doesn’t contaminate the wound, either.”

A moment later, her voice stern and commandin’, it cuts through the air with authority. “Grab me the largest suture needle and thread in that med kit.”

When she sees what one of my men has pulled from the kit at her request, she stops in her tracks. A severe frown mars her beautiful face. “That’s the largest one?”

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