Someonewashere.
Cam took another step. This time, he discerned a vague shape near the main gate. Perhaps someone leaning against the edge of the wall. They didn’t move. Were they injured?
His muscles tensed, and adrenaline shot through him. “Identify yourself.”
The figure moved a step or two and then collapsed without answering.
Shit. Whoever it was must be hurt. Suddenly, the bitter taste of bile flooded his mouth, and the image of his brother’s vacant eyes set Cam’s feet in motion. A sense of danger halted him before he rushed in without backup. With a deep breath, he stopped fifteen feet from the gate. Not removing his eyes from the place where someone had fallen, he called over his shoulder. “Dave. Bring a light.” This could still be a trap, but Cam’s gut said it was a genuine emergency.
His second-in-command brought a lantern, holding it high as it cast yellow light shoving back the velvety darkness.
“You see something?” Dave’s gaze scanned the night, missing the motionless shape on the road blanketed in shadow.
“Someone’s hurt. Cover me while I open the gate.” Cam passed his gun to Dave, trading it for the lantern, and strode to the barrier. Dave backed him up with the rifle, their steps crunching on the thick gravel.
Cam unlocked the gate and slipped outside. He held the light aloft as he scanned for anyone beyond the injured person. Nothing moved in the shadows, and only the faint whisper of rustling branches marred the quiet.
Only when he was confident they were alone did he glance down.
A gasp escaped him. He knelt beside the prone figure, his heart stuttering to a stop. Cam couldn’t see her face, but the slumped figure on the ground was Lissa. He brought the light closer to inspect her. One shoulder was wrapped in a homemadebandage—the surface covered in dark burgundy patches with lighter smears. His stomach tightened, and so did his jaw. He swallowed, hoping she was still alive. He squeezed her uninjured shoulder, hoping for a response. His heart thumped faster when she moaned.
But she didn’t rouse, and his hand came away sticky. He brought his fingers toward his face and held them toward the light. The dark substance had a faint but distinct coppery scent.
Maintaining his calm despite his fear, he unclipped her pack and flipped Lissa over. The front of her jacket was soaked with tacky, half-dried blood. With trembling hands, he searched for a source. Her only injuries seemed to be to her left shoulder and arm. She’d packed a thick gauze pad on the front and strapped it on with a tensor bandage.
His stomach lurched. His Lissa had been shot.
Cam leaned closer, checking her vitals—her breath against his cheek shallow. Eyes burning, he unzipped her jacket and pressed his ear against her chest, gratified to find a heartbeat, though it was racing and uneven. He exhaled. Despite her blood loss, she was unconscious, but alive.
Still, if all the dark crimson soaking her clothes was from her wound, it was a miracle she’d made it this far. He scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he stood. Good thing she was petite. He needed to get her help. “Grab her pack. This is my friend Lissa from Nebraska.” His voice came out strangely calm, though inside his fear swirled in a maelstrom. “Friend” didn’t encompass the intensity of his feelings, but it would suffice.
Dave darted through the gate, his head on a swivel as he grabbed her stuff and followed Cam through xTerra’s gate. His second-in-command locked it behind them with a click. The rest of the Watch stood near the Outpost’s door. All wore serious faces. Cam ignored their curious looks. With Lissa in hisarms, limp and unmoving, he didn’t have time for long-winded explanations.
“I’m taking her in. Dave, you’re in charge. Call the captain and alert Medical to stand by. My guess is she was headed here, and the Slains shot her. Maybe they lost her when it got too dark to track.” That must have been two hours ago. Shit. He tried to recall how many pints of blood a person had. Six? Seven? She’d lost so much. How had she made it this far? He tightened his hold, shifting her higher. A slight moan escaped her lips.
“We got it. You go.” Dave dangled the key fob to the Watch vehicle kept behind the Outpost buildings for emergencies.
Cam glanced at her shoulder bandage again. It appeared the same—soaked. Not with new crimson blood, but with older, partly dried blood. If she hadn’t wrapped it so tightly, she might have bled to death. He felt sick. Maybe he should check the dressing. Still, with the amount soaked into her clothes, blood loss was his primary concern. He’d better leave her field bandage on and drive like hell.
He carried her to the truck and eased her onto the back seat. Despite the jostling, she didn’t move. In the truck’s overhead light, her skin appeared a sickly white and her eyes ringed by purple shadows. Like she hadn’t been sleeping well even before she was injured. Even if she hadn’t been special to him, her condition brought out his protective side. Had she come all this way because she missed him? She was alive, and he needed to keep her that way. He strapped her in with both seatbelts where she lay. Dave held out her backpack, and Cam stuffed it inside the cab.
Dave pressed the key into Cam’s sweaty hand.
Hopping into the front of the crew cab truck, he took off, driving pedal to the metal. His eyes strained, watching for the telltale orange gleam that would mean animals on the road. His muscles remained rigid as he gripped the wheel. Though hischief concern was getting Lissa to xTerra and the hospital, they couldn’t afford a crash.
His frantic drive seemed longer than usual—the minutes crawling despite his breakneck speed. Cam’s chest tightened while he drove, his knuckles blanched white, his palms sweaty, and his vision laser focused. He listened for noise, any sound from the backseat that might indicate Lissa was awake or even alive.
She remained still and silent.
When he reached the twelve-foot-tall main gate at xTerra, one side swung open, admitting his truck at once. He exhaled heavily. His message must have gotten through. He was expected. Cam parked crookedly in front of the Medical Center, where Captain Wilson waited. A doctor and a nurse stood beside his captain with a stretcher. Cam was grateful they were organized. Lissa might need surgery to remove the bullet. From what he’d guessed from his quick field assessment, she had just an entry wound.
He flung his door wide and opened the back. “She’s here.”
The medical staff transferred Lissa to the stretcher and rushed inside.
“Dave mentioned she’s your friend?” Captain Wilson said as Cam retrieved Lissa’s filthy pack, preparing to follow.
Cam nodded. “She’s the one who took care of me when I fractured my foot. I stayed with her for seven weeks and left a map so she could visit.” A sick feeling washed over him. If she hadn’t tried to come, she wouldn’t have been shot. His gut churned. His gaze cut to the path toward surgery.
