Page 67 of Evening Shadows

After some uncomfortable shifting and a groan or two bitten back, with Doc’s help, he lay unclothed on top of a blanket with another covering only his privates. Resting his head on their pack, he could observe Doc examine him.

Like a licensed doctor, Doc poked and prodded enough to make it hurt worse. Ken wanted to order the man away but thought better of it. He had to set an example for his team. If one of them needed care, he’d expect them to endure it.

“Well, as you know, the bullet went through. While unable to see inside your leg, I’m going on the fact it’s not bleeding profusely and you can bear some weight on it that you’ll survive. Stitched, but, your chest?” Doc heaved a frustrated—or maybe pissed off—breath. “Those motherfuckers.”

“They actually put pressure on the gunshot wound to increase the pain so I’d speak out.”

“Speak out for what?”

As Doc pulled something else from his pack, he realized they didn’t know. “They wanted me to give up our Old Man.”

“Why would they want the Old Man?”

Ken caught his breath between his teeth. Doc was a bit late in telling him, “This might sting a little.”

“They actually wanted Old Man and me.” It felt odd calling Jesse such, but that’s how the team—especially on an op—referred to their fearless leader.

“I can’t stitch this without it being checked out so I’m going to use some big-ass Steri-Strips for now.”

Ignoring that assessment, he continued, “It’s not only Alejandro, it’s Beverly.”

“We couldn’t identify the driver of the car that entered the compound.” Doc’s hands touched a few of the burns on his chest and he held back a hiss of pain. “They’re on the verge of being infected. Tomorrow won’t make it any better since you’ll be sweating right over them. But tonight I’ll put something on them that will help in the short-term.”

When the man pulled yet another thing from his pack, Ken wondered how heavy that bag actually was. Doc carried a regular pack, and with the larger size, he added medical supplies and not the measly first-aid kit one could buy at the store. It took a big man to carry a big pack like the others did their normal size pack.

As Doc applied goo to each of the ten cigarette burns, he moved on to all Ken’s issues. “Let’s look at that mug.” He prodded Ken’s face.

Ken winced at the touch and how he must look to Sam.

“The eye didn’t swell much or it went down. I’ve got something here for the lip, but it looks like you’ve been breaking the small scab.”

Ken worried he actually blushed at the fact he’d not cared about the discomfort when he kissed Sam. It’d been worth it.

“Otherwise,” Doc went on, “you’ll have to wait out the bruising.” Apparently satisfied, he moved on. “How’re the ribs after all that effort getting here?”

“They’re survivable.” Which was true. Even when he did something like laugh, a twinge went through his chest, but even that hadn’t been too painful. “They feel fine while I’m lying here.”

Doc winked. “How about we wrap them just in case you find yourself breathing heavy?”

Well hell. That hadn’t been the least bit subtle. While he wanted to love Sam from head to toe, he had limitations that prevented it. Having his ribs wrapped for tomorrow’s trek wouldn’t be a bad idea. In fact, since he did plan to kiss Sam—a lot—it might be wise.

“Go ahead,” he said gruffly.

Light laughter filtered into the cave and Doc’s grin grew into the “I know a secret” type of smile that infuriated Ken.

At least Sam hadn’t been offended or argued the point. Bonus there.

“Let’s sit you up.”

After wrapping his ribs and making sure the bandages would hold, Doc taped the ends down and lightly smacked Ken’s flank to get his attention.

“Now we need to get you on your stomach so I can check the entry point on the back of your leg.”

He gingerly rolled over and exposed his ass in the air, bare to the world, and didn’t allow for much confidence in his ability to protect. Doc pulled the blanket over his ass and administered the same treatment on the bullet wound on his thigh. Being prepared for the sting didn’t help the feel of it.

Getting back to the op, Ken said, “She’s off her rocker.”

Knowing who he meant, Doc asked, “Do you think she’ll keep tracking us?”

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