Page 27 of Against the Wind

Deciding the onus was on the reluctant patient to disclose anything else that needed tending, I turned back to Daniel.

“What in God’s name were you thinking running out thereinto a hurricane without a shirt or shoes?” My voice rose an octave, and I lapsed into the Spanish my parents had spoken while I was growing up, shooting a litany of insults about Daniel’s intelligence his way.

He simply sat, placidly listening to the torrent, until I fell silent. “I was thinkin’ that I wasn’t about to let a threat to you get away to potentially hurt you another day.”

I yanked the med kit closer and pulled out gauze and antiseptic. “You’re an idiot. A complete and total idiot.” My hands shook as I dabbed at his nose, checking to make sure it wasn’t broken. “You could have died out there.”

“Gabi—”

“No. Shut up.” I tilted his chin, examining the bruising. “There are pieces of who knows what embedded in your feet because you ran out there without shoes like some kind of action movie hero.”

His feet were a mess. I grabbed tweezers and started working out splinters and bits of shell and other debris. Each piece I extracted made my stomach clench tighter. “What if you’d stepped on a nail? Or gotten hit by flying debris? Or?—”

“Hey.” He caught my wrist. “I’m right here.”

I yanked free and grabbed more gauze, maybe with more force than necessary. “Turn around. Let me see your back.”

The slice across his back wasn’t deep, but needed cleaning. I swabbed it with antiseptic, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. “Your ribs are already bruising. Deep breath.”

He inhaled, wincing slightly.

“Probably just bruised, not broken. But you’re lucky.” My voice cracked on the last word. “Do you have any idea what itwas like watching you disappear into that storm? Not knowing if you’d come back?”

“About as bad as realizing I might lose you again when I’d just found you?” His voice was soft.

I pressed my forehead against his uninjured shoulder, breathing in the scent of rain and antiseptic and him. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Which part? The hurricane chase or the leaving?”

“Either. Both.” I straightened and reached for more gauze. “Now hold still while I finish patching you up, you reckless idiot.”

When I was finished, Daniel dug dry clothes out of his pack and changed. He’d be sore for a bit, but all of it would heal well enough, so long as he avoided infection.

As I cleaned up and reordered my supplies, Daniel pulled a chair closer to Mickey, his movements deliberate despite his injuries. “So, what was the plan? Wait for the storm, hit the clinic while everyone’s hunkered down?”

Mickey stared at a point on the wall behind us.

“Or maybe you had bigger plans.” Daniel leaned forward. “Maybe you were supposed to meet someone. The Lowe brothers, perhaps?”

My hands stilled on the supplies I was repacking as I caught the flicker in Mickey’s face. That name meant something to him.

“Fuck you,” Mickey spat.

“No? How about Heneghan? Or does Ortiz run this particular operation?”

Each name landed like a stone in my stomach. These weren’t random guesses. Daniel knew these people, or at least knew of them.

“You Coast Guard types think you know everything.” Mickey’s lip curled.

“I know enough.” Daniel’s voice stayed steady, controlled. Professional. “I know the patterns. Gulf Coast to Eastern Seaboard. Using storms as cover. Switching up routes to avoid detection.”

The pieces clicked together in my head. The transfer to Nag’s Head. The questions about previous break-in attempts. His presence on Hatterwick during the storm.

“This isn’t just about hurricane response, is it?” The words came out before I could stop them.

Daniel’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Not now, Gabi.”

“You’re here on an investigation.” The med kit slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. “That’s why you’re really here.”

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