The second two hit their mark. The man clutches his chest, turns, and runs.
The fucker just won’t die. Was he wearing a vest? I stumble after him, but my leg is still half numb. He crashes through the woods to the west. I follow, but at the top of the hill, my foot lands on some loose brush and I go down. My hands find a pool of blood. So much, I don’t know how the asshole isn’t dead already.
A lowoofis followed by athud, and I squint down the hill in the darkness. He’s rolling, sliding, falling. All the way to the main road. There’s no way he’ll survive this.
“Nat?” I pick my way over the uneven ground. “Say something!”
No response. My cracked rib sends sharp pain wrapping around my torso with each breath.
She hasn’t moved. “Can you hear me?” I ask as I drop to my knees. Her eyes fly open, and she surges up with my knife clutched in her bloody fingers. I grab her wrist before she can strike. She’s stronger than I’d expected. Strong enough I have to use both hands to pry the blade from her grasp. A low, almost feral sound rumbles in her throat a second before she collapses against me.
“I’m not him, Nat. It’s Doc.” I ease her back down to the ground. If she had a neck injury, she probably wouldn’t have been able to attack me like that. But I can’t carry her back inside. Not yet. I need to know moving her won’t do more damage.
“Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
Nothing. Shit. Why didn’t I grab my ruck?
“Because even without the tent, the damn thing weighs thirty pounds, and I never would have made it up the hill in time,” I mutter. Except now, I need it. I never travel without my med kit and sat phone. McCabe might never call me again, but if he does, and I don’t answer, someone could die.
With the handle of the knife, I check her reflexes. Knees. Elbows. Good enough.
After shoving the knife into my pocket and the gun into my waistband, I take Nat’s arm and ease her up over my shoulders. I don’t know if her house is safe, but it’s sure as shit better lit and with more resources than out here.
A handful of steps lead up to the back deck. My knee buckles twice, but I manage to stay upright. One of the French patio doors hangs open, shards of glass littering the wood planks. Nat hasn’t made a sound, and I pick my way over the mess andthrough the kitchen to find more broken glass on the other side of the counter.
The house is mostly dark, but light shines from the hall. Enough to see the couch is clear. Laying her down, I weigh the risks of going for my kit. If her attacker isn’t dead, I’m leaving her vulnerable. But without it…
When I find the light switch, a lamp on the side table bathes the room in a gentle glow. Fucking hell. Her left cheek is swollen and bruised, the eyelid bright red. A dozen tiny cuts mar her forehead. But she’s still so beautiful. Even now.
I skim my fingers through her hair and find bits of glass embedded in her scalp.
Shit. The asshole slammed her head into that door. She’s barefoot. Her feet are bleeding. But they’re nothing compared to her hip. A dark, red stain blooms over the pale gray pants.
“Nat? I need you to open your eyes.”
Taking her hand in both of mine, I start rubbing it vigorously. Her eyelids flutter. “There you go. Look at me.” Seconds pass, each one an eternity, until she blinks up at me.
“Doc? You can’t be here. Go. Run.” She tries to push herself up on an elbow, but I grab her shoulders.
“You need medical attention. My kit is back at my tent. I’m going to go get it, but I want you to answer some questions for me first. Do you know what day it is?”
“Don’t have time for this.” She twists out of my grasp, sits up, and sways. “Shit.”
“You’ll make time. Unless you want to pass out on your own and possibly bleed out right here.” Even if she spent the next ten minutes calling me every name in the book, I wouldn’t leave her like this, but I need her to know I’m serious.
“Is he…dead?” She grabs my biceps, fingers digging into the muscles hard enough to bruise. “If he’s not dead, we have to get out of here. Now.”
“I shot him twice.AfterI stabbed him. He fell down the embankment behind the house. If he’s still walking, he’s a fucking zombie.”
Nat scowls. “Not good enough.” Her lips tighten with pain. “Doc, please. I…we have to leave.”
“You’re in no shape to get up, baby.” I cringe at the term of endearment. I don’t have any right, but I can’t help it. Did she notice?
“Doesn’t matter.” She closes her eyes and swallows hard. “If we don’t leave, we’re dead. We have to get to the marina. You can fly us to the mainland. It’s the only way we live through this.”
Whoever that asshole is—or was—she’s terrified of him. And she needs a hospital. We both do. At least one of my ribs is broken, and my back is seriously fucked.
I pull the pistol from my waistband and eject the magazine. Four bullets left, plus one in the chamber. “You steady enough to fire a gun?”
