She was losing so much blood, her face was already pale.
Her beautiful, natural pink lips were almost as white as death. I ripped a few layers of the soft material on her skirt, balled it up, and put pressure on the wounds.
She made a painful groaning sound, and her eyes flickered open.
“I know, baby,” I said. “I know it hurts, and I’m sorry. But I have to put pressure.”
She didn’t say anything.
She just nodded.
One hand slowly came up to touch my cheek.
Her fingers were ice cold.
She needed a doctor, and she needed one now.
“Is there a doctor on board?”
A man raised his hand. “I’m a dermatologist.”
“Is there a real doctor on board?”
No one raised their hand. Of course there wasn’t a single medical professional here. Working on anything other than world domination was beneath most of the people here.
God forbid any of these people ever did something useful with their lives.
I held the pressure on her wound as tightly as I dared while fishing my cell phone out of one of my pockets.
Immediately, I called 911. When the dispatch answered, I didn’t let them get through their little speech. I just started shouting into the line.
“This is Sergeant Reid Taylor, US Marine. I’m on the Fortune, a luxury cruising yacht about two miles from New York harbor. There was an attack. Two people are down. One civilian with two GSWs, bleeding out quickly. I have another Marine down with two gunshot wounds. He is stable. I need emergency medical choppers here immediately.”
The dispatcher started to say something in a dismissive tone, like this was a prank call.
“I need emergency EMT choppers to this yacht immediately.”
“Then, sir, can you bring the yacht into the harbor, and we can have an ambulance meet you at…”
“No,” I demanded into the phone. “I have a civilian who will not make it to the harbor. I need emergency medical services in a fucking helicopter on their way to me five minutes ago!”
Charlotte’s hand fell from my jaw, and her eyes slid shut.
“No, no, baby,” I said in a much softer but just as urgent tone. “I need you to open up those beautiful brown eyes for me. Come on, baby, stay with me. Be my good girl and open those eyes.”
Her eyes flickered open. They were heavy-lidded and glazed over, but they were open for right now, and that would have to be enough.
The dispatcher tried telling me again that I needed to get the ship into the harbor.
I hung up on them, giving up.
Instead, I called someone I hadn’t talked to in a long time, and I prayed they still had the same fucking number.
“Hello?” the familiar voice answered, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
He may be working for the coast guard now, but once a Marine, always a Marine.
“Daniels,” I barked. “Are you still with the Coast Guard in New York?”