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“Good luck.” Holly squeezed my arm, and I hung back alongside Carter as we watched Bahar and the others leave.
As soon as we were alone, I shifted to problem-solving mode. Carter was standing, but his head kept nodding as if he might fall asleep. “You need to sit. You were tortured not even twelve hours ago.” Tortured. Chills flew up my arms at that word, at the evidence of what happened to him written into every line of his face. No way to lie his way out of the fact he was anything but fine.
When he started to sway as if he might lose his balance, I wrapped my arm around his waist for support. I wasn’t so sure if I could keep this six-two man of steel upright on my own, though.
With my other hand, I reached for his face and set the back of my hand to his forehead. “Oh my God, you’re on fire.”
“Am I?” he murmured, blinking, and stumbling back a step.
“Oliver! Mya!” I yelled, unsure where they were right now in the massive home.
Carter’s knees buckled, and he turned his face my way, his lips parting. “Yeah, I don’t feel so good,” he rasped before dropping to his knees as if dragged down by an unseen force.
I went right with him, and Dallas rushed over, barking.
His face was more than just hot. He was truly burning up. How had he been standing that long without letting us know he was suffering?
As Oliver and Mya came flying into the room, Carter fell forward onto his hands.
Oliver quickly holstered his drawn weapon, realizing we were dealing with a different kind of problem.
“Oh, shit.” Mya hurried over as Carter fell flat, then rolled to his back, groaning.
I took hold of his hand, interlocking our fingers as worry ripped through me. “He’s got a bad fever,” I told Oliver as he began checking him.
Carter’s breathing was slow. Almost too slow. When he shut his eyes, his grip of my hand went lax. Dallas gently pawed Carter’s chest as if trying to wake his dad, and that sight was heartbreaking.
“We need to get him to the doctor,” Mya said, but Oliver quickly shot her a stern look.
“He’s technically an international fugitive. We can’t draw attention to the fact we’re in Dublin. He wouldn’t want us doing that.” Oliver shifted Carter’s shirt up, checking for wounds or some sign of an injury he hadn’t noticed in his cursory check earlier.
“Screw that,” I said, shaking. “Save him, or I’ll drag this man to the hospital myself.”
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER
“You haven’t left his side, have you?” Mya shielded her eyes from the light pouring into the room. I had all the curtains drawn and blinds open, hoping the sun might somehow help expedite the process and heal Carter. “You either, huh?” She peeked at Dallas on the bed, and he howled.
I removed the wet facecloth from his forehead and rested the back of my hand there. “I think his fever is finally starting to break. He’s sweating it out.”
Setting the cloth aside, I spied the crucifix on the nightstand and picked it up. I curled my fingers around it as I stared at my guy.
It wasn’t fair. He’d been through so much. Tortured and narrowly escaped the explosion in Greenland. Now an infection was wreaking havoc with his system. Could we please catch a break?
“He’ll be okay. Just give the medicine time. He’ll beat this. I’ve seen much worse out in the field.” At Oliver’s words, I turned to see him hovering behind Mya in the doorway.
Though he’d been a medic in the Army, he could only do so much. Thankfully, when Oliver called Sebastian to alert him to our problem, Sebastian had a better plan. He sent a doctor he trusted to the house, and he confirmed Oliver’s assessment. A wound he’d sustained in Greenland had become infected, and with all of Carter’s injuries on top of it, it’d taken him down fast.
Fortunately, the doctor gave him an IV of fluids, prescription antibiotics, and pain medicine we’d otherwise not have access to. Carter had come to here and there since yesterday, but he’d been groggy and confused. He’d never been alert enough to carry a conversation, but he no longer needed the IV, at least.
“Let me do another vitals check. Will that make you feel better?” Oliver offered, and I nodded my thanks.
Oliver sidestepped Mya to come farther into the room, reaching for his personal medic bag he’d left by the bed as I set the cross back on the nightstand and stood to give him room.
Dallas remained on the bed at his dad’s feet, his tail flopping around while waiting for Oliver to provide news. Eager, like me.
“I know it doesn’t look like it, but his oxygen levels are better. Heart rate, too. He’s just gotta break this fever, then he’ll be back to himself.” Oliver closed up the bag, patted my shoulder, then stood.
“Want us to stay here with you?” Mya asked, but I was already busy pulling back the covers to crawl into bed next to him.
