The truth was if he didn’t have to hurry, he would have tried to find a way to back out of using his greatest gift. A psychic surgeon was extremely rare, and the gift required a completely selfless sacrifice. He didn’t think of himself in that light. Rubin was a man who would sacrifice everything for others. He didn’t always base his decisions on logic. The compulsion to heal was extremely strong, and Rubin was very empathetic. There were times when he risked his life when he should have known better.
Diego was far more pragmatic than his brother. He had never allowed emotions to rule him. With a gift such as psychic surgery, he knew to succeed he had to be willing to sacrifice his own life for his patient. He was never one hundred percent certain he would make the exchange once he was deep into surgery and things were going wrong. He’d seen it happen to Rubin dozens of times. He’d been the watcher, ensuring his brother stayed alive during the process, but he had never let on that he had that same gift.
He prepared the small den with everything he could think of that they would need when both would be weak and vulnerable. He was meticulous, paying attention to details. Those could mean the difference between life and death. Throughout his life in themountains, he’d befriended the great gray owl, and he called on them now, asking them to stay alert for any signs of intruders. Only then did he go back to Warrior Woman.
It was a testament to Leila’s strength of will that she hadn’t moved when he cautioned her not to. Even with the painkiller he’d given her, she had to be in agony. He found himself admiring her and was even more determined to save her life.
The journey to the shelter was a nightmare. He was a member of the Air Force GhostWalker’s Pararescue Team. Countless times he’d carried the wounded on his back over impossible terrain. He’d done so automatically, without thought, getting his patient to a safe place where they could save his life. Carrying Leila felt different, personal, as if he shared every bone-jarring bump as he took her over the rough terrain and through the dense forest. The half-mile hike felt like ten. It was virtually impossible to avoid the brush and low-hanging branches as he made his way to the shelter. She didn’t make a sound, but her breathing was erratic.
Diego was good enough in the forest that he could cover his tracks, but if he broke branches or bruised leaves, a good tracker might be able to follow him. He knew he would have to erase all evidence of their passing.
Once in the shelter, he settled Leila on the soft raised area he’d made for her. The sleeping bag was on top of a bed of leaves he’d compacted to make it softer for her.
“We don’t have much time. I want you to listen to me carefully. I know you’re struggling to stay conscious, but you need to hear me and follow my directions to the letter. I’m going to remove all traces of us coming here. It will take a few minutes. Beside you are water and rations. I’m placing three guns within your reach.” He guided her hand to each one. “Extra ammo is next to the food. I’m giving you three knives.”
Her lashes did lift then, and she looked him directly in the eye. “Are you leaving me?”
“Just for a couple of minutes to wipe out our tracks, but when I come back, I’ll be doing the surgery on you. I’m going to talk very plainly. There has to be truth between us at all times. I’m not going to hide that this situation is dire.” While he spoke, he set up for the operation.
“I prefer truth.”
“If we survive, I expect that you will never give away the fact that I performed this surgery on you.”
“We?”
He ignored the fact that he wanted to rub his finger over the little frown lines appearing between her brows. “If I live through this, I’m going to go down hard. Very hard. It will leave us without protection. I expect that during that time, the men who went up the mountain will come looking for their friends. They’re going to find five dead bodies, and they won’t be happy. Hopefully, I’ll have concealed our tracks and they won’t be able to find us.”
He saw the protest welling up and turned away from her. He didn’t have time to argue or explain. He hurried away and double-timed back. Systematically he erased every trace of them. There was one fern with a broken stalk and a small branch that had been snapped but hadn’t fallen. He didn’t try to fix those, just hightailed it back to the shelter.
Leila opened her eyes the instant he returned. He stripped off his jacket and boots and knelt beside her.
“Tell me what you meant,” she greeted.
He didn’t pretend he didn’t understand. “There’s a risk in doing this type of surgery. An exchange between us. You won’t live if it isn’t done, Leila.”
As he passed his palms over her abdomen, he was already feelingthe well of energy that signaled he could tap into that healing fire buried deep inside him.
“I’m not exchanging my life for yours,” she protested.
“You don’t have a choice. Close your eyes and just be still. When I go down, and I will, I’ll need to heal just like you. Hopefully, we won’t have any visitors. I’ve got sentries scattered throughout the forest. They’ll alert us when the men reach the bodies and if they come close to us.”
“Diego.” She whispered his name. “You shouldn’t do this.”
He gave her a vague smile. “I should. Now let me concentrate.”
That was all he could give her. Psychic surgery wasn’t completely different than physical surgery. Every artery and vein had to be repaired around any wounds. The muscles and organs had to be dealt with. The damage to Leila was extensive. Once he could see inside her body, mapping everything out with heat first, he didn’t understand how she could have spoken to him let alone lived through such traumatic wounds.
Once she stopped fighting it, she slid under quietly, succumbing to the pain and trauma, giving herself up to him. It told him a lot about her that she didn’t continue to try to argue. She accepted the inevitable and allowed him to take over.
Psychic surgery required a transfer; it was brief, but the surgeon, as he meticulously repaired a shattered body, took on the wounds for a brief period of time. Opening the deep well of healing energy, he began, with his mind, to move the damaged pieces of Leila’s bone, muscle and veins back into place, meticulously mending each one. There were so many damaged parts, and he lost himself in the work. Once he started, there was no turning back. Healing her had become a compulsion.
Her spleen was ruptured. It was a wonder she hadn’t bled out. He knew she had gifts and she’d managed to slow the bleeding in order to give herself time to defeat her captors. He had no choicebut to remove the organ. He knew she could live without a spleen, but she would have to always watch out for infections.
Her liver and gallbladder were intact as well as the large intestine, but there was some trauma to her stomach and small intestine. The bullet had entered at a strange angle, and he mapped the trajectory through the damage, making certain to clear every fragment left behind so there was no shrapnel or metal in her body. It was a painstaking process.
There was no one there to wipe the sweat that ran down his face into his eyes or hand him water. He didn’t have a partner to support his body when his strength gave out and he had to continue without rest. He’d known the surgery would be difficult, but he hadn’t realized how many hours it would take or how drained he would become so quickly. He had no other recourse than to continue no matter how tired he got. When he finished, he would be lying right next to her, unable to move, and that was if he lived.
The pain was horrendous. It crashed through him each time he moved to a new organ or vein. The bullet had exited at an odd angle through her back, breaking a rib in its path and cracking two others. It was well after dark before he finished.
