Page 33 of Deadly Betrayal
He carefully lifted the makeshift compress.Blood gushed forth. With all he’d seen and experienced in themilitary, he’d grown pretty immune to the sight of blood, but forsome reason, hers affected him. He blinked and focused. “It’s… uh…about seven centimeters long.”
“H-how deep?”
After mopping up more blood, he tried to peerinto the wound. “I can’t tell.”
“Pull… edges.”
He narrowed his eyes. That would hurt, andwouldn’t it do more harm?
There was a very slight twitch at the cornerof her mouth. “Important,” she said, barely a whisper.
Steeling himself, he lifted the compress andwith two fingers of each hand, gently parted the skin. Before moreblood filled the gap, he was able to get a rough idea. “A halfcentimeter. Maybe less.”
“Good.” She exhaled and closed her eyes.
Had she fallen unconscious again? That wouldso not be good. “Azita?”
“Resting.”
“Thank God.”
Shahram returned with the medical kit, openedit, and set it on Azita’s lap. “Azitajan.” His choked voicebroke the sound of Azita’s labored breathing.
“Shh…” Her fingers stroked her brother’sface, leaving behind a trace of blood. “Be brave. Help.”
If there was a stronger woman in the world,Kaden had yet to meet her. Azita’s bag was well stocked, anothersign of her efficient nature. He took out a fresh bottle of salinesolution and some gauze pads. “Hold this here,” he instructedShahram. “Sop up the overflow while I rinse the cut.”
His face white, Shahram knelt in the footwellbehind the driver’s seat and reached over to hold the wadded upmaterial. Kaden poured the solution over Azita’s wound, wincingalong with her. Once the clotted blood was removed, he could seemuch better. “Anything… in it?” she asked.
Kaden frowned. “I’m not sure what youmean.”
“Metal, paint…”
She wanted him to look for foreign matterthat could cause an infection. He leaned closer, parted her hair,and examined the cut carefully. He spotted a couple green threads.He replaced the compress. “There’s a tiny bit of material from yourheadscarf.”
“Tweezers…” She stopped to breathe deeply,and in that moment Kaden desperately wanted to take away herpain.
He placed Shahram’s hand over the compress.Then he reached for the tweezers in her medical bag and cleanedthem with the alcohol swabs he’d found. When he looked up,Shahram’s face had gone from white to green. His eyes were red, hischeeks wet. “Come on, man. I need you.”
His teeth clenched, Shahram didn’t respond,but at least he nodded. Once he was ready, Kaden gave the signal tolift the compress. He used the liquid to rinse the area, thenquickly removed the two threads he’d seen. With the gauze, heabsorbed as much of the blood as he could before examining thewound again. “Got it.”
He handed Shahram the bloody gauze and thetweezers. When he went to take the compress, it fell into his hand.The car shook as Shahram lunged for the door and got caught up inAzita’s legs. She whimpered at the jostling. “Shh… it’s okay, baby.I’ve got you,” Kaden murmured as he applied pressure to thecompress and stroked her hair.
She seemed fairly stable, but how long wouldthat last? Traffic wasn’t moving. Shahram was of no use. And nomatter how wonderful she was, Azita couldn’t doctor herself. It wasup to him. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to have fallenasleep. Was that a good idea? The medics had always told them notto let a person with a possible concussion sleep lest the personslip into a coma.
With that in mind, he gently stirred her.“Azita,” he said softly. “What should I do now?”
It took a moment, but she finally replied.“Bandage. Compression.”
Shit. He really should have taken a biggerinterest in the medical side of things when he’d been in themilitary. But as a team leader, he’d been more concerned withgetting his people in and out of situations than with tending tothe wounded. With one hand, he fumbled in her bag, trying to figureout what he could use to make a bandage. She’d said compression, sothat meant some sort of tight wrapping around her head. He yankedout a few packets of what looked to be a thicker type of gauze andused his teeth to rip them open, then set them carefully on herhead while he found a roll of elasticized bandage wrap.
By the time he was finished, she looked likea mummy. One thing he knew—those gauze pads weren’t moving.
Exhausted and sweat-soaked, he leaned againstthe door and cradled Azita’s face in his hands. That’s when henoticed they were shaking. An adrenaline crash was the normalreaction to a stressful situation. This was more. Azita’s blood wasall over him, all over her. She was alive, but for how long?
He pressed his lips to her forehead andprayed. Prayed he wouldn’t lose her again.
Chapter 9
