Page 98 of Savannah Royals
That’s better.
I take a deep breath, already feeling lighter and more clearheaded. I resume holding pressure on Paul’s bare abdomen while Tony goes to the window.
“Stay awake, Paul,” I order. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Okay,” he answers, but his eyes stay closed.
“Paul. Look at me. Open.”
He sighs but forces his lids up.
“I love you,” I tell him, trying to hold his gaze. “You are going to keep your beautiful eyes open and stare at me until Matthew gets here to help you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispers. His eyes are dazed, but I see him try. “Love you too, doll.”
We lapse into silence. Every now and then, I call out Paul’s name or press his stomach a little harder to startle him awake.
“Kat.” Tony turns from his perch at the window. “I see them.”
Abe and Matthew rush into the room seconds later. Abe stumbles and yanks out a chair from a neighboring table. He collapses into it, panting and exhausted.
“Kat?” Matthew looks at me, frightened. “What’s going on?” His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me standing over Paul, my bloodstained gloves pressing into his stomach.
“Matthew, I need your help.” I scrunch my face against the tears. “I’m so sorry, but I need you.”
He walks over. There’s a bulky bag strapped over his shoulder. He drops it to the ground and reaches to move my hands. “Let me see.”
I step back. No longer able to stand Paul’s blood on my hands, I peel away the gloves, tossing them to the floor beside the red wig. Matthew’s eyes follow their flight. He sees the wig, then looks at me again, at the incongruous pairing of my bodice and jodhpurs. He looks at Paul on the table. Paul,whose wolf tattoo is visible, climbing over his neck and shoulder. Then to the shirtless Tony across the room, paw tracks inked across his side and ribs.
It’s all micromovements—Matthew’s flickering gaze—but I see him putting two and two together, the way I’ve always feared he would. His eyes flash to mine, and I know. With Matthew, I’ve been dancing too close, far too close. Matthew is the sun, and I’m about to get burned.
Exhaustion hits, hard and sudden. I collapse into a chair beside Paul. I take his right hand in mine and when I do, Matthew’s eyes latch onto the final piece of damning evidence, zeroing in on our matching tattoos—the king and queen of diamonds.
“Oh my god…” he whispers.
“Matt, this is Paul,” I whisper back. “I am asking you, asking you with everything I have, to save him.”
“Anytime would be good, doc,” Paul grunts from the table.
Matthew shakes his head in disbelief. “What happened? Kat, we were together a few hours ago.What the hell happened?”
“He…he got shot. Twice. On his right side.”
Matthew takes a deep breath and lifts Tony’s blood-soaked shirt. He looks for a few seconds, then bends to check Paul’s side.
“Shit,” he hisses. He drops the shirt back down and squeezes his eyes tight, thinking.
Abe skulks over as Matthew opens his eyes.
“Did you notice any holes in his back?” Matt asks.
“No,” I respond. “No, it’s only on the front.”
“That means the bullets are still inside him. They didn’t go through.”
“Can you fix it?” I’m breathless. Desperate.
“I’m a physician, Kat. Not a surgeon.”
