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“What’s this man’s name?” she demanded.
“Matthews.”
She leaned over him. “Matthews, I’m Wendy. I’m going to help you, okay?”
The fact that he wasn’t responding to her wasn’t surprising, but itwasalarming.
She began dabbing away the blood so she could see just how bad the wound was. To her relief, the bullet had entered a part of his body that didn’t have any vital organs.
She sought out Jennings. “Can you lift him again? I need to see his back.”
As soon as Jennings gripped Matthews and tilted him on one side, the man issued a low groan.
“Good. The bullet exited through his back. I won’t need to go digging for it. We need painkillers. What can you find for me?” she asked Tilly.
Around the club, she wasn’t surprised that a bunch of prescription drug bottles hit the table in front of her or by the handful of pills pulled out of somebody’s pocket.
She nodded to Jennings. “Get two pills out of that first bottle and make him swallow them.” She held the gauze over the bleeding wound.
When somebody handed Jennings a bottle of whiskey for Matthews to wash them down with, Wren made a noise. Mixing drugs and alcohol was a terrible idea, but it would be a miracle if the patient didn’t die of sepsis from the infection surely setting in from the hole blown in his side.
After he swallowed the pills and chased them with whiskey, she set about cleaning out the wound.
The minute she dumped antiseptic on his side, he reared off the table, fists swinging. Jennings hooked an arm around her middle and yanked her back just before Matthews struck her. But she felt the air wave across her face.
He collapsed on the table again, and she continued to work, meticulously cleaning both the entry point and the exit wound. As she focused on the task, she sank her teeth into her lower lip in concentration.
Tilly stood a few feet away, arms wrapped around her stomach, tears streaming down her face. “Do you really know what you’re doing?”
Wren pushed out a sigh but didn’t glance away from her work. “I was in medical school.”
Silence pervaded the club. She could hear one of those pills drop if somebody knocked one off the table.
She went on. “I ended up being an LPN because I couldn’t finish. The nursing home paid. They provided training in exchange for a two-year contract. But that’s up in two months. Then I won’t be tied to that job and I can finish med school. If I want…” She trailed off, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice.
She never could stop her feelings from invading whenever she thought about the sacrifices she’d made.
Jennings edged closer to her. The heat from his body and the solid wall of muscle provided strength she needed without him ever touching her.
When her gaze met his, several thoughts played through her mind. One being that she wanted to help those in need, and that meant working in an area that other medical workers refused to.
She always dreamed of working in a clinic like the one they’d driven past in East Canon. The poor area must need help. Help she could provide. Maybe someday she could make a difference there. Do some good in the world.
“Bandage.” She held out a hand to Jennings.
He tore open the packet and she took the gauze between her gloved fingers, applying it to the wound.
“Tape.”
He tore a strip off the roll and passed that to her too. When she had one wound patched up, she looked at the men still left standing. Those who could stomach the sight of all that blood and her probing around in the wound for this long gave her looks of respect.
“Roll him on his side again. He passed out, and that’s good, because what I need to do to that exit wound won’t feel good.”
She glanced up at Jennings. In the depths of his dark eyes, she saw respect mingled with something else she couldn’t put a name to.
After long minutes of cleaning and using all the supplies on hand to close up the larger wound on the victim’s back, Wren stepped away from the table. She was exhausted, wrung out from her nerves…
And completely happy.
