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His gaze was flat. His soldier gaze. Hard. His jaw like granite. His gaze sliced to Natches.
“I’ll stay,” Natches said quietly behind her. “If she wants to leave, then I’ll get her out of here. ”
Silence filled the bedroom as Mark moved behind Alex. “Here’s what we have. ” The medic sighed.
“You got whiskey, Major? You’re going to need it. ”
“Kitchen cabinet. ” He nodded to Natches.
The other man moved quickly back to the other room.
“We have two six-inch nails buried in, almost to the bone, I’m guessing. They have to come out. Looks like a metal shard protruding from the fleshy part of your shoulder, deep, but thin. We have puncture wounds, no slicing. We have some shredding flesh, a few burns. We have to get the projectiles out first and we’ll go from there. ”
Alex stared up at Janey. A tear slipped from her eye. A single tear as she touched his face with trembling fingers and Natches moved back into the room, the fifth of whiskey in hand.
Alex grabbed it, tipped it to his lips, and took as much as possible in one gulp. Damn, he needed to be drunk. He pushed the boundary with the liquor, consuming quite a bit of the liquid before handing it back to Mark.
“You should have gone to the hospital, Major,” Tyrell snapped.
“Too many reports,” Alex replied. “We can’t let the attacker know I’m weak. Get to it, Mark. Let’s get it over with. ”
“Alex. ” Janey whispered his name as Natches pushed a chair to her.
She sat down in front of Alex, leaned her head against his good arm, and touched him, held on to him.
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God, he should push her away. He needed her out of here.
Agony streaked through him as Mark doused the area with the liquor and went to work. He was quick, efficient. The nails and shrapnel were pulled out within minutes. The longest fucking minutes of his life.
He kept his head on his arm, snarled in fury at the pain, cursed the bastard responsible, and swore he was going to fry him and feed him to the dogs at the local humane shelter.
“All out,” Mark announced. “Shouldn’t need stitches. We have straight punctures. I’m going to clean them, bandage your shoulder up, and inject an antibiotic. You’re going to have to sleep soon, Major.
You’re going to fall on your ass if you don’t. ”
“Soon. ” Alex knew sleep wouldn’t hold off much longer. The wound as well as the adrenaline crash would get him. Before it did, he’d make certain everything was secure to protect Janey and himself while they slept.
Janey held back more tears as he rose to his feet as though nothing was wrong, no pain, no wounds. As
though he hadn’t shielded her body with his, as though it didn’t matter.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen if someone wants to make it. ”
Janey turned to Natches, meeting his brooding gaze, the worry she saw there.
“Let me get Janey some clothes and we’ll be right out,” Alex announced. “Close the door behind you. ”
Natches stared back at her for long seconds before he moved out of the room, followed by Mark and Tyrell.
“Here. ”
She caught the T-shirt he tossed her as she turned around. “Crista left some sweats in here, too. ” He moved to a dresser, rummaging through it until he came up with a pair. “Get those on and we’ll figure this out. ”
He moved to the closet and pulled out a shirt. As Janey dressed, she watched him ease into the shirt, button it, then sit down in the chair to tie leather athletic shoes on his feet.
“When we walk back out there, you’re going to play real nice,” he finally announced as he rose to his feet.
