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“We were ambushed at the airstrip.”
They were ambushed? Someone tried to kill them?
I shouldn’t care. Hell, I should behappyfor it. So then why do I feel like I’m seconds away from completely melting down?
Focus, Mila.I take a deep, steadying breath.
I give Norma my full attention as she quickly slices the front of Niko’s shirt, revealing three perfectly round bullet holes. One in his shoulder. One in his bicep, and the other in the middle of his abdomen, which is the one I go to first, sensing it’s probably the most life threatening out of the three. Placing my hand on top of the towel, I push down, waiting for Norma to tell me what to do next.
“You two,” she barks at Dimitri and the other man. “Roll him over. I need to see if there’s an exit wound.” The men do as she says, slowly tilting his body while I do my best to keep pressure on his stomach. “Two exit wounds,” she announces. “The one in his stomach is still in there.” The men lower him back down. She gestures for me to move my hand, pressing down around the bullet hole. “I don’t think it hit anything too important. It appears to be lodged a few inches deep. I’m going to have to remove it.” She turns, quickly grabbing what looks like pliers out of the drawer behind her while I resume applying pressure. “Hold him down. If he wakes up, I can’t have him flailing all over the place or I might make things worse,” she tells Dimitri before her eyes come to me. “When I tell you, give me access to the wound. But be ready, because the moment I have the bullet out I’m going to need you to apply as much pressure as you can.” I nod again, too afraid to speak. At this point I have no idea if anything would even come out if I tried. “Mateo, I need my needle and thread. If we want any chance of stopping this bleeding, I have to get these closed fast.”
“I can help,” I offer, figuring two of us stitching him up will certainly be faster than just one. “I can sew. It’s the same thing, right?” I ask Norma.
I’m operating on pure adrenaline. I can’t think about anything but what’s right in front of me. And right in front of me is a dying man. I can’t be the reason why Niko dies on this table. I’d never be able to forgive myself. We may not see eye to eye, but Niko has protected me. It’s my turn to protect him.
Norma nods, tipping her chin up at Mateo who disappears from the room.
“Prepare yourself.” Norma’s gaze comes back to mine.
I take another deep breath in through my nose. “I’m ready.”
“Lift the towel.”
I do as she says, trying to contain the blood that comes pouring out of his wound the instant I do. It’s everywhere. Like a faucet that won’t shut off.
Norma steps up on a stool to give herself a better vantage point, slowly inserting the tool into Niko’s abdomen. I cringe but don’t look away. She moves it around and around but can’t seem to find what she’s looking for.
Removing the tool, she slides a finger inside the wound and feels around. “There it is.” Her gaze comes to me. “It’s at an angle. I’m not sure I can get it by myself. I’m going to need you to stick your finger in his wound and try to push the bullet up so I can get a hold of it.”
I nod, my entire body trembling as I lean forward and prepare to do something I never in a million years dreamed I’d do.
Closing my eyes, I slide my finger into the bullet hole, barely able to contain the dry heave that pushes its way up my throat. I breathe in slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, my eyes popping open when my finger brushes something hard.
“I feel it.”
“Good, now try to get your finger under it. Don’t worry about hurting him. If we don’t get this bullet out he likely won’t survive. Just do what you have to do.” I nod, pressing hard, trying to wedge my finger under the bullet.
“I think I’ve got it.” I sense movement to my right, and when I briefly glance that way I find Mateo standing a few inches from me, watching. His expression is one I can’t decipher, nor do I have the time to.
“Now push up as hard as you can and try to bend your hand back to give me room. But don’t let go of the bullet.”
I nod, doing as she instructs.
She stretches the wound, making room for my finger and the pliers. She repositions and tries to get a grip on the bullet.
“It’s moving,” I tell her, feeling it slide upward under my finger.
“We’ve almost got it.” She wiggles the pliers back and forth and before I know it, the bullet is out.
Unfortunately, that seems to make the bleeding worse and it starts pouring from the wound at an alarming rate.
Without being told to do so, I pull my finger out and use the towel to apply more pressure.
“We need to get him cleaned and closed up. He’s lost too much blood.” Norma turns to Mateo who hands her a bottle of alcohol and sets what looks like a standard sewing kit with various size needles and spools of thread next to Niko’s limp body.
Towels, pliers, rubbing alcohol, and a sewing kit. I guess in this business you use what you have readily available, though something tells me this isn’t their first rodeo. With the way Norma knew exactly what to do, it’s apparent she’s had a lot of practice.
“Here, take this,” I tell Mateo, gesturing to the towel I’m pressing down on. “I can thread the needles while Norma cleans the wounds.”
