The other guy noticed his partner in massacre-gone-wrong drop to the ground, and he seemed to recognize that the bullets that hit him came from the wrong direction. He dropped to his haunches and jerked his weapon up to his chest, tucking tight tothe tree. Seemed he wanted to keep the tree between him and the targets he knew about while trying to identify the new threat.
Might have been a better strategy against opponents of a comparable skill level.
Lance cleared the chamber, gave his final target a few seconds to piss himself, then pumped three holes into the fucker. One in the head and two in the chest for good measure. He shouldered the gun—already emptied—and stood as the other guy hit the ground. “All clear!”
Foxe and Herb straightened first, lowering their weapons as the group’s focus shifted Lance’s way. Alex was a few seconds slower to accept the reality.
“I’m guessing we don’t need to ask if you got yours,” Alex said, one eyebrow raised.
Lance grunted. “Not unless you want an ugly bruise on that pretty face of yours.”
“Lance!” Lynnette called, her urgent tone carrying over the change in Alex’s expression.
All the men shifted, turning their attention toward her, and Lance broke into a run. It took him under five seconds to cross the distance that had separated them, and his eyes took in Billy’s bloodied form before his brain could process it.
Billy’s shirt had been ripped aside, most of the clothing stained red. His skin was stained and smeared with blood that hadn’t perfectly wiped off. Yet more blood continued to ooze from a nasty gash, as if a large round had clipped him above his hip. The man’s chest heaved too hard, too fast, as he lay there, allowing a veritable stranger to work on him.
Lynn’s fingers were covered in blood and her face was taut, brow pinched, as she looked up to Lance. “It’s not ideal, but I need you to cauterize his wound. You can do that, right?”
Herb muttered an expression of discomfort.
Lance studied the wound itself for another beat, then shrugged off both stolen weapons and tossed them to the nearest guy. “Yeah. Short and hot?”
“And not too deep,” she said. “Destroying some surface tissue might actually be a good thing, but we want to only do enough damage to encourage fresh growth.”
“Got it.” He flexed his hand out of habit before stretching his palm out to hover over the area that continued to bleed. His eyes flicked up toward Billy’s face and his hard-clenched jaw. “Sorry, bud. Try not to bite off your tongue.”
Billy groaned something that sounded like “fuck you.” That was fair.
Lynn shifted on her knees and lightly backhand-swatted Billy’s upper arm. “No more talking. Just steady breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth.” She turned her head to catch Lance’s gaze and dipped her chin in a nod, but didn’t stop talking. “I’ll breathe with you and we’ll count them out, okay?”
Lance exhaled and allowed the energy to mount within him for a moment as he listened to Lynn work her magic. He let her get Billy under her thrall, up to the count of four just for kicks, then aimed a tight arc at the bleeding site beneath his palm. He was careful to keep his physical hand off of Billy’s flesh, not wanting to risk unnecessary contamination. Billy let out a strained, almost breathless moan, his body twitching unavoidably, and Lance ground his teeth harder. It only took a few seconds to do what Lynn had asked for, but he was sure from Billy’s perspective each second was an hour of agony.
As soon as he was done, Lance sat back and let his hand drop to his side. Steam rose up from the freshly charred, no longer bleeding skin.
“Thank you,” Lynn said, already leaning in with some folded gauze to pat over the wounded area. “Both of you. You did great.” She flashed Lance a quick smile before returning her focus toher patient and patting Billy’s arm. “You try to relax. I just need another minute to close this up until you’re well enough to be moved.”
Billy blew out a hard breath. “Fuck. Shit. That hurt worse than my leg. Fucking shit.”
Lance managed a smile, reached down, and poked at the thigh in question. “And your leg’s doin’ fine now, right? So, this is just the next shitstorm you gotta make it through. One breath at a time, brother.”
Lynn spoke up, directing her words to Billy as she worked, capitalizing on Lance’s point and saying something about Billy’s kid.
Lance rocked up to his feet and moved out of the way, but his gaze lingered as a wild idea flared to life in his brain. He didn’t know if she’d go for it. Or if the notion he was thinking of was really a thing. But hell, it made sense to him. Maybe they could just make it one.
Jon stepped up to his side while his brain buzzed and spoke in a low tone. “Get anything out of that guy who pulled you aside?”
Lance sighed as their immediate reality settled back around him. “Not so much,” he said. “Dumb fuck thought he could recruit me, or at least pretend to, to lower my guard. But he wasn’t quite dumb enough to take me to his boss.”
Jon grunted and folded his arms. “Scouted by a cartel. Congratulations, Master Guns, you’ve outdone me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” They stood in silence for another minute, Lance paying more attention to the pretty auburn-haired nurse-in-a-dress than his actual surroundings, before he finally spoke again. “Think we’ll need a medic? Or whatever the appropriate term would be. You know, for your new rescue endeavor.”
Jon was quiet another beat. “You want to hire your girlfriend?”
“I was thinking more like ‘bringing her onboard’, but yeah.” Lance shrugged. “She did happen to lose her last job recently. Timing works out.”
“You realize we’re not anywhere near a real business right now?”
