He chuckled before breathing in sharply.
“There’s a backpack on the roof, it’s full of clothes and medical supplies. It’ll have everything you need.”
I felt my eyebrow raise but this wasn’t the time to ask. Once he was bullet free, I’d be following up on that one.
“Where?”
“It was attached to the water tank with a block of ice to stay hidden, but I melted it when I arrived. It should be on the ground somewhere around there.”
I was back lessthan five minutes later. Avalanche had his eyes closed, breathing heavy, but steady. I kneeled on the floor next to him as I rummaged through the backpack. He wasn’t kidding about having everything I would need. There was a suture kit, one of those medical clamp things, long tweezers, gauze, fabric scissors, and medical tape, along with a couple changes of clothes.
“You still awake?”
His eyes fluttered open. His lips twitched into a small smile.
“You try sleeping with three bullet holes.”
I chuckled.
“I was just making sure you didn’t pass out from blood loss. All my medical knowledge comes from TV, because I can’t stand to hear my friends talk about it in real life. Sorry for asking a dumb question.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Do you have any alcohol?”
“Yeah. One sec.”
I headed for the bathroom and went straight for the rubbing alcohol I kept under the sink. I grabbed it from the cabinet and went back for Avalanche.
His eyebrow rose.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
I was confused for a second. When I realized, I glared at him.
“Oh my god, this isn’t TV! I don’t have a bottle of hard liquor lying around. And if I did, I’m not wasting a $200 bottle ofwhisky by letting you pour it on yourself. This is more sanitary, and it didn’t cost me a full day’s pay.”
He laughed then grimaced.
“Don’t make me laugh right now.”
“Sorry.” I kneeled back beside him. “If you want a drink, I can grab you one, but I’m not pouring anything but this on you.”
“You’re the boss, Nightshade.” He closed his eyes again and rested his head back on the arm rest. “Just make it quick.”
“Sure.” I moved a bit closer to get a better look at his wounds. “I’ll…um…start with your leg, if that’s okay.” He nodded. “I’m…ah… I’ll have to…um…cut these.”
He nodded again while I grabbed the fabric scissors. I started at his ankle, cutting to an inch above the bullet hole, halfway up his thigh. He hissed as I pealed the leather off his leg. “Sorry, I?—”
“It’s okay,” he breathed. “It’s going to hurt either way, ignore me.”
A sassy response almost slipped out, but I knew it would make him laugh and he asked me not to do that. Instead, I nodded and focused on the task at hand. His pants were out of the way now. I put the scissors down and picked up the tweezers.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded. I wasn’t sure that I was, but it was good to know he had faith in me. Taking a deep breath, I dug in. He was white-knuckle gripping the couch, breathing deep. Luckily, the bullet was near the surface and was out in less than thirty seconds. I grabbed a piece of gauze and placed it under the wound before flushing it with the rubbing alcohol.
I looked up to study his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, sweating dripping down his forehead, cheeks pale.
