Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(52)
Author: Christine Feehan

She put every ounce of strength she had into helping the man beside her haul Kane’s dead weight into the helicopter. She dragged him inside and laid him out, scrambling to kneel beside him, her knife out. She cut away his clothes, exposing his belly. The bullet had torn into his abdomen and ricocheted through his chest.

“Get a needle into him before his veins collapse,” she snapped, not looking at the grim-faced men surrounding her. Her entire being was focused on saving Kane—and she only had minutes. Her palms burned, scorching, unbearably hot.

“Iodine. Hurry, pour it over his belly and my hands and knife.” She held them out, and even as they poured, she cut into Kane’s flesh.

Someone—again, she didn’t know or care who—crowded tight against her back and placed a blade firmly against her neck, a threat one shouldn’t ignore, but she did. If the bastard wanted to kill her, so be it, but she wasn’t going to take even precious seconds to try to make him understand. There was no way to explain how she had known the moment she laid her hands on Kane that the artery was severed and he was bleeding out fast—too fast.

Everything around her faded until she was in that deep tunnel where there were only her hands answering the needs of a critically injured human being. Already the energy was surging through her. Her fingertips tingled and burned. She plunged her hands into his body, unerringly finding the artery. She grasped it between her fingers, slipped on all the blood, and had to fish again. The artery felt like a noodle, or worse, a squid. She wasn’t squeamish unless she allowed herself to think about failing.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice demanded.

“Don’t distract her.”

That had to be the master gunnery sergeant. She could tell by his voice. It sounded as if from a great distance, but she was aware of all them on some level.

She could hear sounds. Harsh breathing. The blades of the helicopter. The rustle as one of the men fed plasma through an IV, holding the vein open for life-saving blood, if she could just do this. If. There it was. Oh, God, she had it.

Live, Kane. Don’t leave us alone.

She felt the ends and pushed them together, closing her eyes, taking a slow, deep breath and breathing down, through her body, sending the healing heat, that scorching-hot heat through her veins and out the fingers of her hands. She had to fuse the ends together, but it was delicate work to keep the blood flowing through while she held the severed ends with heat.

The intense burn took her breath away, but she held on. For a moment everything went dark, and there were only stars and a fading sensation. Her stomach lurched. She became aware of the blood all over her clothes, of her hands inside Kane. The blood was up to her elbows. She couldn’t fix the rest of the damage done to his organs, but they had a chance of keeping him alive until the surgeon took over, if she could hold on.

“Hurry. Use me for the transfusion. Whitney always gave pairs compatible blood.” Now it was her own voice that came from far away, or maybe from a deep, deep hole. “Have your surgeon meet us. And for God’s sake, hurry. He has to be set up for the operation wherever we land. Can you do that?”

“The doc will be there.”

She turned her head tiredly, and her eyes met a pair of cold black eyes surrounded by ridiculously long lashes.

“Who has my baby?”

“I’ve got him, ma’am,” another voice said. “Name’s Ethan Myers. You must be Rose.”

She was too tired to state the obvious or even look. The knife slowly disappeared from her throat. Only then did she feel the slight sting. The threat had been all too real. She did manage to look up at him from over her shoulder, and her heart dropped. She recognized the one called Javier. Death stared back at her. There was no expression on that face.

“Rose,” the man with the black eyes spoke her name gently, the man they referred to as Top. “Javier is going to support your back while we make our run. Can you hold on?”

“Yes.” Because there was no other choice. None. If she didn’t, Kane was dead.

“I’m putting in the needle. You’re going to feel it. I’m Mack McKinley, by the way.”

“Just do it. Are you certain the baby’s all right?”

Ethan answered, “He’s fine. He looks very aware. He keeps turning his head toward the sound of your voice.”

The smell of the blood made her want to gag. It felt like she was bathing in the stuff. She was going to have nightmares for the rest of her life, but it was Kane’s blood, and she wasn’t losing him.

Do you hear me? I won’t lose you. She heard the small internal sob and hoped she hadn’t lost control in front of the others. Not now, not when we’re so close. Hang on, Kane. Just a little longer. Fight for us. Fight for me.

Her body trembled now as the helicopter dipped and bumped, flying fast over the desert. She could feel the heat draining from her body and flowing into Kane’s. She was certain she was sitting upright until she felt Javier’s arm suddenly slide around her waist and ease her back against his chest. She thought rather fuzzily that he was far stronger than he looked. In the distance, Mack McKinley, the one they called Top, was barking orders into his radio.

She shivered, cold creeping into her bones. Javier rubbed her shoulders.

“Hold him a little longer. Don’t let go.”

No, she couldn’t let go of him, because her fragile repair would burst, and Kane would bleed out before they could get him to the surgeon.

She was vaguely aware of the helicopter setting down. Of grim-faced men surrounding her, helping to lift Kane onto a gurney, setting her there with him. She never let go, even when they rolled her into the sterile tent hastily erected and the doctors and nurses regarded her bloody hands inside Kane.

She looked around at them with their masks and gowns, afraid to turn him over to them.

“It’s all right, Rose,” Mack said gently. “We’ve got him now.”

The cold took her then, like it always did when she used this particular talent, sliding inside her, freezing her from the inside out. Her teeth began to chatter, and she couldn’t move her stiff body, as if every muscle was completely frozen.

“Let them take over,” Mack said again. “She’s holding him together, Doc.”

A pair of hands came into view, and Javier lifted Rose. “Let him go,” he whispered. “He’ll be safe.” Those black, killer eyes jumped to the doctor. “Won’t he, Doc?”