Page 84 of Winters Heat

Brock pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped it. A blade shot straight, and before she could wonder why he had it, he cut Colby’s pant legs straight to the waistline, sheathed the knife, and inspected his legs. Colby didn’t stir.

He took the knife out again and repeated the cut on the front of his shirt. It sprawled on each side of Colby, who now vibrated with the shakes. His teeth chattered. His brow pinched tight.

Brock motioned to Rocco. “Help lean him over. I need to see his back.”

Rocco stepped forward. Cash and Jared followed. Rocco and Cash braced a shoulder, lifting him up and on his uninjured side. Colby didn’t wake up. His body was limp, and his head rolled forward. Brock cut the remaining remnants of his shirt off.

“Son of a bitch.”

Mia tried to see around the men. All the cussing did little to explain what was happening. They conversed in shits and bitches, and she was left clueless.

“What’s the deal?” Jared asked.

Well, at least Jared had a taste of her annoyance. He hadn’t translated the shits either.

“Shrapnel. Right near this GSW. Probably couldn’t feel the difference. He’s had way more blood loss than originally estimated. It’s all still in there. Best case scenario, dehydration and nasty infection. Worst case, septic shock. We gotta get him out of here, like now. Or he’s done.”

The analysis hurt deep in her chest. Physically made her flinch, cringing away from the men. Jared cursed a Colombian mile wide, grabbed the radio handset, and strutted out the shack door.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” Mia mumbled but already knew the answer.

Nobody responded. No words of comfort. No lies. The hush answered her question.

She swallowed past a knot of despair. “Well, what are we supposed to do? Guys? Anything?”

“With what we have, not much we can do.” Brock moved to a backpack. “This is the last of the antibiotics. But we need to cool him down. I don’t see anything to do that with. We need to keep watch.”

“Watch for what?”

“To make sure he keeps breathing.”

Tears leaked. Her throat seized in pain. “And if he stops breathing?” The words barely passed her lips, and the prickle of cold sweat beaded on the nape of her neck.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Mia.”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said before.” Jared’s bark streamed into the shack. “Get me that helo now, or my man is good as dead.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

They landed at an airfield outside Washington, DC. The last day was a hazy blur, and Mia had yet to sleep any length of time. Short bursts of shut-eye here and there, whether she realized it or not, were all she got.

Whatever Jared did to re-route a helicopter worked. She heard whispers that another team needed it as bad, and she hoped they survived. But it didn’t keep her from thanking God they were choppered out of that godforsaken jungle.

Her fingers interlaced with Colby’s limp, nonreactive fingers. He was in a coma. A helicopter ride to a field hospital, then a private jet ride, and Colby was still out, under medical supervision, and scaring the shit out of her.

Brock, who had some sort of medical training, monitored him on their supersonic trip back up to the US. He wasn’t a doctor, but Mia could tell he was the Titan go-to-guy for all things health related. She was also convinced he had more practical experience than the collective knowledge at the field hospital in somewhere, South America. Hospital was a very generous term. But they were gracious to Colby, so she kept her mouth shut.

A red medevac chopper stood on the ready, as they landed and taxied on American soil. She watched out the oval airplane window. Their flight crew jumped out and scurried to open the backside of the transport helicopter.

She looked back into the belly of their plane. Titan’s jet came with an exterior opening to allow the transportation of bedridden patients, similar to the backside of the medevac chopper. The opening hadn’t been immediately obvious to her, but they loaded Colby in through the side of the jet and directed her to a set of stairs.

Once inside, with a few moves of collapsible chairs, his gurney was locked into place. Nondescript hooks on the wall held IV bags and a travel monitor.

Guess this wasn’t their first flight with a bedridden passenger. Who outfitted their private jet to function as a makeshift hospital room? Titan did, apparently. She wondered how that conversation went with the manufacturer.I’d like the medical transport option and a few gun racks.

The medevac crew wore air suits with arm patches. They boarded the plane like old habit. They whispered to Brock, facing away from her. She couldn’t hear what they said. Jared stood with the men, listening and nodding. A moment later, they moved to Colby’s bed and opened the hatch. Clicks sounded as the gurney released from its holds. One man grabbed the IV and monitors, while the others were ready to lower him away from her.

Emotion choked her. This was where the crazy adventure stopped. Where they’d part, and she’d have to catch up with Colby later. Jared would tell her where he was going. She was sure of it. He couldn’t be that terrible.

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