Hard Core (Onyx Group) Read Free Page B

on the rest of his
body and a gunshot wound in his side. Nothing broken. Fractured ribs. She had
to get him back to the church before the wound became infected.
    How to get him there? He was too heavy for her to carry and
it would take too long to go back to camp and get help. He needed treatment
now. The tribesmen wouldn’t be happy about having one of Gavin’s guards in the
village. They would have to deal. It didn’t matter this man was on Gavin’s
payroll. As a doctor, she helped people. She would treat him no matter what and
she wouldn’t ask why his employer had brutalized and shot him. Probably better if
she didn’t know.
    She gave him a good shake and leaned over to speak directly
to him. “Open your eyes.”
    He groaned and tried to push her hands away, but she didn’t
let go. She had no idea how much blood he’d lost. The bullet needed to be
removed.
    Another shake and a light slap to his cheek brought him
around with an angry grunt. One eye was swollen shut; the other gazed at her
with an unsteady stare.
    “Don’t talk,” she said when he began to speak. “I’m not
going to hurt you. I’m here to help, but I need you to help me first. You have
to walk back to my camp. I can’t get you there alone. Do you understand what
I’m saying?”
    “Hell, yes, I understand you. I don’t need help.” He started
to sit up and hissed out a breath.
    She pushed him back down, hands on his muscular chest. He
glared. She ignored it.
    “I have to wrap your ribs first, or you won’t get far. Just
lay there and be still.”
    He did as told, but she didn’t think it was by choice. He
looked ready to pass out again.
    “Bastard got off a lucky shot,” he muttered, eyes rolling in
his head as she lifted his shirt and prodded the gunshot wound. Blood seeped
from the edges.
    “If he was trying to kill you, I’d say he wasn’t so lucky.”
She tore a strip off the bottom of her shirt and wrapped it around his narrow
waist to cover the wound, stop the bleeding and support the injured ribs at the
same time. His muscles were defined, contoured, indicating hard training. As
she brought the fabric around, he drew in a sharp breath and turned deathly
white. Sweat broke out on his upper lip and she paused to let him catch his
breath. “You have fractured ribs on this side, along with a gunshot wound. It’s
going to make a difficult trip.”
    In response, he rose to a sitting position with a grunt of
pain, and with strength she had to admire, pushed himself to his feet. He
swayed, sidestepped, and she levered herself under his arm.
    She grabbed the lantern and wrapped an arm around his hips
to avoid pressure to his wound and ribs. “Easy, there.”
    His weight bore down on her. Though he put up a good fight,
he leaned on her more and more as they made their way slowly toward the church.
Once, he stumbled and fell to his knees and brought her down with him.
    Her knee scraped an exposed root and the lantern slipped
from her grasp. She set it upright and maneuvered around so she still supported
him. His eyes were closed, lips drawn into a thin line. His skin had taken on a
gray pallor.
    “How much farther?” he asked, his voice low and tight.
    “Not far. Can you make it?”
    In answer, he rose to his feet and pulled her with him. His
strength surprised her once again.
    “Where…are you taking me?” He sounded disoriented, wary. She
could understand his caution--for all he knew, she could be working for Gavin,
and the next to put a bullet in him. With Gavin, one never knew.
    “Somewhere I can patch you up. I’m a medical doctor. I can
help.”
    He stiffened and came to a stop. “Don’t like doctors,” he
grumbled, his eyes squeezed shut as he swayed. Blood seeped through her shirt
where she pressed against his side.
    “Too bad.” She used her doctor-knows-best tone. “Because
you’ve got one. Now get moving. And considering where you are, you should deem
yourself lucky.”
    “Never been lucky.”
    He started