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The blood rushed from Aubrey’s face as Hunter disappeared inside the cockpit and started the jet’s engine. For a stunned moment, she couldn’t move. But then she snapped into trauma nurse mode and strode over to the cabinet, opened it and yanked out the large kit. Popping the latches, she studied the contents. She had no idea how badly Gray had been wounded, but she took a quick inventory of what she had to work with.
Okay, not too shabby. She ticked through a mental checklist of what she might need and then pulled it all out. Hurrying back over to the seats closest to the door, she set her supplies on one seat and laid a blanket over the other one.
Then she waited, keeping her mind clear and her hands steady. No matter what had happened to Gray, she would help fix him. She’d do everything in her power to make sure he was okay and taken care of to the best of her ability. She’d witnessed many injuries, spent endless hours assisting doctors in trauma surgeries. She possessed the skills and determination to save the man who’d saved her.
Aubrey wouldn’t let him down.
Less than a minute later, she heard the squeal of tires and glanced out the window to see the Suburban pulling up next to the plane. The doors flew open and the team hopped out. When she saw Gray, her heart fell. He was leaning heavily on Saint who rushed him up the steps and into the jet.
“Here!” Aubrey directed, pointing to the blanket-covered seat. Saint lowered him down and Aubrey went to work, quickly assessing Gray’s injury, and noting the way he seemed to light up when he saw her.
“Hey, Sparkle,” he rasped right before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.
Shit.He’d lost a lot of blood, and the wound was still spurting. Immediately applying pressure, she swayed as the jet began to move but braced herself and continued to train all of her focus on Gray.
Nearby, Pharaoh shut and locked the door, the sound momentarily pulling her attention his way. “What do you need?” he asked.
“For everyone to back up and give me room to work,” Aubrey replied, voice steely, tying off a piece of gauze. She loosened Gray’s tactical vest, pulled it off and dropped it, then began cutting his blood-soaked t-shirt off. She needed to examine the wound better and get everything and everybody out of her way.
Her training scrolled through her head. The good news was he hadn’t bled out. A severe arterial wound would’ve led to death in three minutes. She pressed a fresh cloth directly against the wound using her palm. “How long has he been bleeding?”
“About twenty minutes,” Inda answered.
Aubrey nodded and waited patiently for the bleeding to subside a little. Then she carefully examined the wound to determine how deep it was and her best course of treatment. At least it was a clean slice, and she breathed a sigh of relief. After she cleaned and stitched the wound up, he’d be fine.
He’d suffered too much blood loss, too fast, and that’s why he passed out. He should’ve applied pressure the moment he was injured, but she knew that wasn’t always possible. Especially while chasing after bad guys.
As Aubrey cleaned the wound, she checked out his tattoo. The roaring lion couldn’t have been more perfect. The big, solemn man had reminded her of a lion on more than one occasion.
It wasn’t long before his amber eyes flickered open.
“How’re you feeling?” Aubrey asked softly.
“Fine.”
When he tried to sit up, she pressed a hand to his chest. “Relax. I don’t want the bleeding to start up again.” She reached for a needle and surgical thread.
“I don’t need stitches,” he insisted.
“Yes, you do,” she countered. Her calm, yet firm clinical tone brooked no argument. Right now, she was the medical expert in charge and he needed to listen. “Now hold still.”
With a low growl, he clenched his jaw while she carefully prepared the needle, grasped his arm and began stitching the wound up.
“I fucking hate stitches. They always break open, anyway,” he grumbled.
“Well, maybe if you took it easy, that wouldn’t happen.”
He clamped his jaw tighter and didn’t comment as she finished the job, keeping the stitches small and neat, doing her best to make sure they would hold and cause minimal scarring. Then she wrapped gauze around Gray’s upper right biceps and secured it in place with a clip. Once the dressing was applied, Aubrey reached for a blanket and covered Gray.
She noticed how Gray watched every movement she made, but he didn’t say a word.
“He’s going to be fine,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
“Good job, Aubrey,” Braxton said.
“Yeah. Thanks for coming back and fixing him up,” Zane added.
“Of course.” She never would’ve left him bleeding and in pain. And the way his fellow team members praised her gave her a sense of accomplishment and pride. As though maybe she was a bit of a badass herself, just in a different way. But in a way that was no less important.
