“It’s gonna take time to get to him,” Mack said, his breath warm on her neck. “God willing, we’ll be out of range before then. Hopefully they’ll still be on time to bring this guy in.”
All conversation stopped, the van silent and bursting with heavy tension. Addy listened to the wheels spinning over the wet pavement. Mack’s heart thundered against her back. She heard and felt the rapid beating—was aware of every touchpoint of his body, but she didn’t ask him to move. She was afraid if he did, he would fall out of the vehicle.
Time slipped by. Miles with it. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
Mack cleared his throat. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
He shifted. “I know I’m heavy, and I’ll get off as soon as we’re out of range.”
“We’re a few miles out and no tail,” Sean called out.
“Which means we can pull over to regroup,” Kiley said.
The vehicle slowed and stopped. Mack pushed off Addy, andshe heard him grunt. Not the sound of exertion, but a grunt of pain.
“Are you hit?” She came to a sitting position to make room for him and searched his body.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Your pants are soaked in blood!” she cried.
“Yeah.” He scrambled into a sitting position. “Let’s get this door closed and get moving.”
Her heart racing, she eyed him. “We have to go to the ER. You need to have that looked at.”
He waved a hand. “It’s just a scratch.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at it.”
“Trust me. I know.”
“Because you’ve been shot before, right? I mean, I don’t remember it, but you have.”
“Enough times to know this will be fine.” He slid the door closed. “Get us moving, Sean.”
Sean didn’t question but started the van forward again.
Addy glanced into the back of the vehicle. “There’s a first-aid kit back here. At least let me look at it and stop any bleeding.”
“Sure.” His reluctant expression belied his agreement.
She didn’t care what he thought. She was going to tend to his wound. Thankful they were in a medical transport vehicle that was equipped with a kit, she climbed over the seat and grabbed it. Once settled back in her seat, she put on her seat belt and looked at Mack. His face was flushed, and he was sweating. He was in more pain than he was letting on.
She would be as gentle as she could be. “Put your foot on my lap.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, drawing out his accent and ending with a cute smile.
Here he was bleeding and in pain, and he was trying to make her feel better with his Southern charm. She loved his kindness,but she wasn’t going to let it interfere with her concentration. She got out the scissors to cut his pant leg.
“Oh no, you don’t. Not my favorite jeans.” He tugged the pant leg up to his knee.
Just above his boot, blood oozed and ran down. She felt queasy and had to work hard to dredge up a smile of her own as she shifted his leg for a better look. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m doing my best not to hurt you.”
“No worries.” A broad smile crossed his face, but he was still perspiring.
