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Chapter Thirty-Six
“No!” Dimitri was running as soon as he saw Durand point the gun at Megan’s leg. “Cover me,” he snapped into the comm unit.
He didn’t even bother to duck and cover. He just ran. Straight for her. He saw her kick the big bald guy. Saw Grunt shoot, taking the guy out when he
went to his knees. He saw Megan get her bound hands in front of her. Saw her reach for the gun and aim at Durand. He saw it all. Each movement in terrifyingly painful slow motion.
He roared when her gun didn’t fire.
He roared as Durand stepped out from cover to shoot Megan.
And he roared as he emptied his weapon into the man.
Dimitri didn’t spare a glance for Durand’s body.
Falling to his knees beside Megan, he dropped his empty gun, knowing the guys would cover them, and pulled her unconscious body into his arms. Frantic fingers felt her throat for a pulse. There. A beat. Another. Alive. She was alive. Relief made his hands shake. He fought to still them as he checked her body for wounds. Blood on his fingers. Her blood. Panic threatened and he swallowed it down. Wounds. He needed to deal with the wounds.
Vaguely aware of sirens getting closer, he checked her face. Neck. Chest. No bullet wounds. Stomach clear. Thigh. He found the bullet wound in her thigh. Straight through muscle, when it could so easily have hit her femoral artery.
Car doors slammed. He needed something to pad the wound and stem the blood flow. Someone knelt beside him. Words were said. Dimitri couldn’t understand them. He needed a tourniquet, that’s what he needed. Elevate the leg. Put pressure on the wound. His mind went over the steps for first aid, as though locked in a loop.
A strong hand on his shoulder. He jerked, grabbed his empty gun and aimed it at the intruder.
“It’s me. Lower your weapon.” He blinked until a face came into focus. Callum.
Dimitri let the gun drop to the ground beside him. Callum bent and retrieved it.
“Let them do their job,” he ordered, but his words were soft.
Dimitri looked in the direction Callum nodded. Paramedics. An ambulance.
“What have we got here?” said the female paramedic who crouched beside him. Her eyes were kind. Calm. Professional. “Will you let me examine her?”
He looked down and realised he was clutching Megan to his chest. Shielding her from view with his body.
“Gunshot wound to her right leg. Cuts, bruises. Her shoulder feels wrong. Broken, or dislocated.” His words came as if from far away.
“Let me look at her.” The woman gently pried Megan from his grasp.
Dimitri fought back a growl of warning. It took all of his self-control to surrender her to the woman.
“They’ve got her,” Callum said. “Let them do their job. She’s going to be fine.”
Dimitri curled his hands into fists as the paramedics placed Megan on a stretcher and examined her. There were more injuries on her body than he’d realised. Everywhere he looked there was another wound, another mark, another reason Reynard Durand should be killed all over again.
Callum kept a firm hand on his shoulder as they watched Megan being loaded into the ambulance.
“Katrina?” Dimitri asked as he kept his eyes glued to Megan.
“Ryan took her to the hospital. Same one Megan will be taken to.”
“He’s watching her?”
“Hasn’t left her side.”
He felt his heartbeat slow to almost normal. “Team injuries?”
“Grunt has a flesh wound. Lake cut his hand. Nothing major.”
