“It means the bullet is still lodged in her shoulder.” She cursed under her breath. “I’m going to have to take it out. We need to get her to the hospital.”
“You can’t do that.”
She blinked in disbelief as Charles Connell stepped into her line of vision. “Mr. Connell?”
“Hello, Louisa.” He smiled at her. “It’s been a long time.”
She shook her head, trying to focus. “After this I’m going to need a really strong drink,” she muttered. “But the facts remain the same. I said I’d stitch up some superficial wounds, but I never agreed to kitchen surgery. She needs an OR.”
“Every gunshot wound has to be reported to the police,” Charles replied.
Her eyes darted around the kitchen before landing back on him. “By my count there are three cops standing in the kitchen right now. I think we can consider that well and truly reported.”
“It’s not that simple.” He shook his head as he removed his coat and laid it over the back of a nearby chair. “Right now, Thomas Walcott’s mutilated corpse is lying in the woods. Olivia’s blood is all over that crime scene. Once he is discovered, it will raise too many questions.”
“Mr. Connell,” she answered in frustration. “Look at her. She’s lost too much blood. She needs a transfusion.”
“And she’ll get one.” He began to roll up his sleeve. “We’re the same blood type, give her my blood.”
“This is crazy. You’re really lucky I was so thorough when I stole the supplies,” she muttered as she turned to one of the boxes and rummaged around, coming up with a couple of sealed bags. “Right, everyone out except Mr. Connell and Theo,” she shooed the others out of the room and slammed the door behind them. “Congratulations, Theo, you’re now my scrub nurse. Go wash your hands with the bottle of antibacterial soap in the first box of supplies.”
He nodded and moved to the sink. Louisa turned back to Charles and wrapped a tourniquet around his bicep, tapping the inside of his elbow with gloved hands, looking for a vein. Satisfied she’d found a suitable one, she tore open one of the packets and inserted the needle into his vein, taping it firmly to his skin. Inserting the second needle into Olivia’s arm, she attached a length of clear plastic tubing and watched as the blood started to flow through evenly.
Olivia obliged her by staying unconscious long enough for Louisa to remove the bullet and close the wound, dressing it tightly and placing her arm in a sling to support her shoulder. While Olivia continued to have an emergency blood transfusion from her father, Louisa took the time to clean and stitch the wounds on Theo’s forearm and the back of Jake’s shoulder. She also dressed and cleaned the one on Captain McCallister’s hand.
Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, she stretched her aching spine and moved back to check on Olivia as she began to regain consciousness. Satisfied, she removed the needles from both Olivia’s arm and that of her father.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Louisa murmured as Olivia’s eyes flickered open and slowly focused on her.
“What happened?” Olivia whispered.
“You got shot, honey.”
“I know that,” she gasped in pain as she struggled to sit up. “I mean after. Where’s my mom?”
“I don’t know.” Louisa shook her head, helping Olivia into a sitting position. “I’ve been busy fixing everyone up, so nobody’s had the chance to fill me in yet.”
“Theo?” Olivia asked.
“I’m right here.” He moved in closer and took her hand.
Her gaze swept over his shoulder and locked on her father who was watching her, his expression unreadable.
“Why don’t we give you and Theo a moment,” Louisa suggested, starting to feel uncomfortable. “Mr. Connell?”
He nodded and followed Louisa from the kitchen, clicking the door behind him quietly.
Unable to find the words, Olivia turned to Theo as he cradled her face gently in his hands, taking her lips and kissing her softly.
“God.” He broke away, breathing hard and pressing his forehead to hers. “I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I didn’t think I’d get to you in time.”
“But you did.” She grasped the hand that held her face softly. “I saw you when Nathaniel was coming for me. You put yourself in front of a demon for me.”
“I’d do it every single time,” he whispered.
Catching sight of his hand, she pulled it away from her face, turning it over to get a better look. “What happened?” She frowned, pushing up his sleeve to look at his arm.
Ribbons of blue and black, starting at his palm, were wrapped around his hand and twisted up his wrist and arm like a tattoo.
