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“AB positive,” he said, his words slow and slurring.
“Maria’s is also AB positive. We’re in business.”
“You first. Lie down next to him. Maria will get you hooked up.” He sat down in the chair Maria had vacated and set a black medical bag down on the floor. He inspected the wound. “This is a gunshot.” He probed, and even through the morphine, Easy moaned.
Then he manipulated the area, including Easy abdominals, letting out a breath. “Doesn’t look like there’s any internal bleeding.” Maria was busy connecting up tubing and IVs in Easy’s arm and Juan’s.
“Two pints, Maria, each. Hugo, go get them something sugary.”
The doctor worked on Easy, methodically cleaning the wound with antiseptic, using forceps to remove anything he deemed as a foreign body. Maria kept the blood transfusion flowing, even her own as Easy received more than half of his body’s blood volume. At this point, he’d passed out, his lashes thick on his sunken cheeks. The doctor then stitched up the bullet hole and the ragged exit wound, bandaging it, then administering him antibiotics.
He sat back in the chair. Easy’s color was much better, and he seemed to be resting easier.
“Get fluids in him as much as you possibly can. He’s dangerously dehydrated.” He rose and pointed at the two of them. “You as well. You both look worse for wear. Get food, water, and some rest.” He then focused directly on Jack. “You don’t stay up half the night worrying about your man here. Get some sleep. That’s the best way you can help him.”
She nodded. So grateful. “I can’t thank you enough.” Her fear of losing Easy was like an ache that wouldn’t go away.
He reached out and hugged Maria quickly. “I’d do anything for Maria.”
“Ah,vamanos, you silly man.” She left with him, and Juan looked at Jack.
“I’m going to take his advice.” He looked over at Hugo. “You got some grub here or do we need to go shopping?”
“Shopping,senor. We don’t have much, but whatever we do have we will share.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got some money. You lead the way.”
When he got back, he and Maria cooked up a storm, every delicious Hispanic dish in Venezuela it seemed. Jack didn’t care, she ate as much as she could fit in her stomach, then flopped back, feeling sleepy, her mind on Easy the whole time. Maria shooed her away, and she and Juan cleaned up.
If Jack wasn’t so tired, she would have argued, but it was clear that Maria wanted Juan to herself.
Jack went back up the stairs to Easy, settled next to him on the bed. Sitting up with her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin on her knees, Jack watched Easy’s chest rise and fall, so relieved just to watch it move. He was alive, on the mend. He was going to survive.
She cried a little, just letting herself have that because she was drowning in emotions over this man. Emotions that she was working on sorting out. Definitely admiration for how he’d fought back, fought for her when he’d just been shot. The power and precision of his movements, and never losing his focus in the fight, were so impressive, but he’d survived drowning, Hell Week, and probably many more close calls she was unaware of.
Yet, it was blood loss that had worked against him. Fully functioning, Easy would have wiped the forest floor with that bastard—Garcia. Apparently, he’d been the one to kill Brian Cole. It was clear Shark and Easy weren’t the only ones who had known him. But Juan had witnessed the murder?
Then there was this twisted feeling that overpowered her when she thought about the way he teased her, the way he made love to her, the way he was just plain Easy. It flooded over her in a tidal wave of crushing need. She released her legs and slipped down to lie beside him. Her hand went to his shoulder, pulling up the threadbare blanket, brushing back his hair, lingering over the silky strands.
She fell to sleep with the steady rhythm of his breathing, and her hand buried in his hair.
The first faint hint of dawn had already crept into the room when Jack woke, her heavy lethargy replaced by a sudden spurt of adrenaline. She rose up and looked down at Easy. Apparently, the doctor had been here and gone and Jack had slept through it. There was now a proper IV in Easy’s arm. He was getting the much-needed fluid he’d lost.
He was sleeping peacefully and not wanting to disturb him, she slipped off the bed and out of the room. Now that she was awake, all those thoughts from last night and the need pumping through her, she was restless. She wandered through Maria’s sweet little house. She ended up in the living room looking out the window to the street, her arms tightly folded. A terrible starkness welled up in her. She was so close to going home. Easy would recover and they would make that rendezvous.
Maybe, she thought, a lick of panic twisting through her, she had changed so much, she wasn’t sure who she was now. For the first time, she dismissed what she thought her mother would say or how she would react. She only cared about herself and how she would move forward. And this thing with Easy. It had been a temporary situation, she thought, an ache snaking around her heart. Her practical side told her she was simply going to have to get on with her life. She couldn’t speak for Easy.
She watched the sky lighten and the shadows fade, and she faced another authentic moment, the reality she had been skirting for a while.
She had fallen in love with Matthew “Easy” Hitchcock.
14
Easy wokeup to sunlight spilling across the bed he was in, his body still feeling the ravages of going almost nonstop for seventy-two hours with very little sleep, meager food, and great amounts of physical exertion. Even though he was a guy filled with energy, he knew the value of resting.
They couldn’t afford to linger here, but he had to consider his health, something that wouldn’t have been a factor in his consideration before he met Jack. Whatever he was and wasn’t capable of right now impacted her. He wondered how long he’d been out of it. He moved gingerly, then groaned at the pain in his side. It wasn’t quite bearable, but that didn’t matter. If they had to go, he’d go. Small amounts of morphine would help him get her to the rendezvous. Once they were on the chopper, he could finally rest, knowing that she was safe. His brothers would make sure of it.
The door opened and Jack came through. The moment she saw him awake, she rushed to the bed. “Easy,” she said softly, a wealth of emotion in her voice as she bent over and slipped her arms around him, hugging him hard, careful of the bullet wound.
