Page 23 of Savage Saint

Much less tell them. Saint’s earlier threat isn’t far from my mind.

“I need to check the back of your shoulder.” Trino starts to move, and I immediately put a hand against his chest. “Slowly. I need to check it, but let’s not tear those wounds open any further. Let me help you.”

His mouth twitches, and Rizos chuckles.

Apparently, the Royal Bastards find the nurse they kidnapped amusing.

Ignoring them, I move to help Trino when Saint puts a hand on my arm. “He’s too heavy for you. Let me.”

“You have to be careful.” Those hazel eyes meet mine; his jaw tightens. “Tell me what you need.”

That surprises me enough that I stare at him. For a few seconds, I take in this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s easily over six foot, with tattoos and a sharp, defined jaw that’s making this much harder than it needs to be.

He kidnapped me.

He threatened me.

Genesis, this is not the time to lose it. Get this done and go home.

“Okay.” A little breathy, but I will attribute it to bone-deep exhaustion. “I need him moved slowly. We don’t know what the bullet hit yet, and I’m not making anything worse because of impatience. Think of him as an elderly patient with a fracture. Delicate.”

“I’m not delicate.”

“Right now, you are whatever I say you are.” That earns me a huff from the patient and a raised eyebrow from Saint. The irony isn’t lost on me. He used the same words. Ignoring them, I turn to Rizos, who’s smiling. “Take his other side and help Saint roll him slightly toward me. And Trino, if the pain changes—not gets worse, changes—you tell me immediately.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Keep it slow.” Saint and Rizos position themselves on either side of him, and I watch every movement as they carefully roll their brother toward me. Trino’s face tightens immediately, and I hold a hand up. “Stop.” Both men freeze, and I wipe the sweat from the injured man’s face. “What are you feeling? Different?”

“No. Just fucking hurts,” he says through clenched teeth, and I nod.

“Are you dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Nauseous?”

“No.”

“Are you having any trouble breathing?”

“No.”

“Can you handle a little more?” This time he nods, and I look at Saint. “Continue. Let’s confirm where that bullet went.” Together, they turn him until the top of his shoulder is exposed. And there it is. The second opening is a little larger than the one in the front, the edges more irregular, but the sight of it pulls a relieved breath from me. “It was a through-and-through.”

“Fucking told you.” His smile is nothing more than a grimace with a slight curve to one corner of his mouth.

“Congratulations. Would you like a cookie?”

“Yes. Double chocolate chip.”

“Fine. Next time, I’ll buy you a cookie and have it delivered.” At my sarcasm, Rizos laughs outright, shoulders shaking, which causes the patient to make a pained sound. “Seriously. Don’t move him.”

I lean in closer without touching the wound, visually following what I can of the path. From the location of the two openings, it appears the bullet traveled through the fleshy outer part of his shoulder instead of deeper toward his chest.

Good sign, but not enough. He needs an X-ray.

“Is that good?” Saint asks, and I glance over for a brief second. His expression is dark.