Page 4 of Asher

ManageMassive hemorrhaging.

EnsureAirwayswere clear. He knew for certain nothing obstructed her airway.

Monitor patient forRespiratory issues,Circulation impairment, and lastly, the silent killerHypothermia.

“Hold this,” Lee ordered, handing him a full IV bag, while he swiped a disinfectant towelette over the back of Marlowe’s dirty hand and flicked his fingertips against her ghostly white skin,searching for a vein. “She’s damned cold. Beau, grab another blanket. Keep her covered and wrap her feet while you’re at it. Handle whatever trauma you find, understood?”

“Copy that,” Beau replied easily, then breathed, “Fuck. She’s got nothing on but this stupid dress.”

“We’ve got clean flannel coveralls, if you need one,” Murphy shouted. He was old school and the flannel coveralls were his idea when dealing with injured female agents, to give them the decency they deserved.

“Jesus, look at her feet!” Beau snapped.

As quickly as Lee inserted the IV, Asher hung the bag on an overhead hook in the ceiling and dropped back to the floor to help Beau. Jesus, was right. The bottoms of her feet were hamburger, speckled with thorns and studded with tiny stones that looked like they’d been pounded in. “There isn’t time to clean them. Wrap them up with ice packs for now.”

“On it,” Beau answered.

Asher turned back to Lee as, together, they assessed the rest of her fragile body.

“Christ, they worked her over,” Lee muttered. “One shoulder’s dislocated, multiple trauma to the left side of her face and head, possible eye damage. Broken nose. Can’t do anything about that right now.”

“You already gave her something for pain, right?”

Lee nodded. “As soon as I had her inside, yes. She’s got a couple fractured ribs, maybe a fractured skull, and—”

“Crap. And I ran like hell all the way up this damn mountain, with her poor head—”

“Did you have a choice?”

“No, but—” Everything he’d done to save Marlowe had hurt her. Badly.

“Heston, Rory, Renner. You guys smoke the yahoos downhill yet?” Murphy asked through their earpieces.

“Nope,” Rory replied. “Only persuaded them to run and hide.”

Renner snickered. “Yeah, like chicken shits all over the world.”

“You boys aboard the other bird and strapped in?” Leave it to Murphy to refer to his men as boys.

Rory came back with a respectful, “Copy that, Boss. How’s our fair lady doing?”

“She’s in rough shape but she’ll be okay,” Murphy said.

Asher hoped his boss was right. How Murph maintained a positive outlook on life, after all his time dealing with Army politics, amazed Asher. Asher had served far less time than Murph, but he’d dealt with the same bullshit, from HQ on down to field COs. Dirty politics behind the scenes had finally soured his patriotic zeal. Asher grew up wanting to serve, but these days, it seemed the guys and gals dying in the field were inconsequential to most five-stars. Soldiers, Marines, and Airmen were expendable, and what happened at Abbey Gate proved it.

“Pretty sure her lower back’s badly injured, too,” Asher advised Lee. “We need to stop whatever’s bleeding.”

“She’s bleeding all right. The back of her dress is soaked.”

“It is?” Asher asked, like a dolt. How had he not noticed that?

“Headsets everyone,” Murphy reminded his team. “Take off in three, two…”

The bird’s skids lifted up, the noise of its rotors drowning Murphy’s, “One.”

Tipping against the helo’s inner wall to keep working on Marlowe, Asher paused long enough to trade his earpiece for the noise-canceling earphones Beau tossed his way.

“Help me logroll her,” Lee said. “Toward you, on one, two… shit.”

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