“Cliff, can you hold her head in place? I don’t want her to start thrashing. When Dylan returns, I’ll have him hold her arms and legs. I’ll be able to numb her, but I can’t promise that she won’t feel any pressure or pain.”
Strong hands moved to the sides of her head, but instead of fear or nervousness, Alexis reveled in his soothing touch. Cliff’s thumbs stroked back and forth along her hairline and she tried her damnedest to focus on that soothing touch instead of the prick of the needles along her shoulder wound.
Logan was able to clean and stitch the front side of her gash just as heavy footsteps pounded into the room. Dylan had returned with the bags of blood. He helped the men flip her onto her stomach so that Logan could close the wound on the back, the sting of the cool water and antibacterial soap used to clean the exit point was shocking and Alexis clenched her teeth to fight off the throb.
As the men flipped her back over to assess the wound on her leg, Alexis saw stars behind her closed eyelids. The pain was excruciating and the scream she kept buried inside escaped with a flourish. The tourniquet had been doing its job keeping the blood loss as minimal as possible, but as Logan released the tension in the belt around her thigh, all of the nerves in her leg came alive. She could feel every shred of material cut from her leg to expose the wound, every pulse of blood rushing toward her extremities.
The instant Logan’s fingers brushed across the ripped skin of her thigh, Alexis’ body jerked in response. Dylan held her arms and legs in place, her back arching as she tried to fight off the procedure.
“Shh,” Cliff whispered in her ear again, but even the gentle sound of his voice did little to soothe her. Her body was on fire from the ache.
Each poke from the numbing needle felt like a searing stake impaling her skin. Though the nerves around the opening were numb, she could feel every move of muscle, every prod against her bone as Logan searched for the bullet.
Alexis wanted to shout, wanted to yell from the rooftops to tell them to stop, that she couldn’t endure the pain any longer. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, soaking her hairline.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Alexis confessed silently.
Her breathing became rushed, erratic. Staccato inhales filled her lungs as she tried to fight off the torture.
“Calm down, Alexis. Please.”
Don’t they know I can’t?
But then gentle strokes wiped away the tears flowing from her eyes and a pair of the softest lips pressed against her forehead. It was the first moment of peace she had felt since she lan
ded in New Mexico months ago. And as the lips pulled away from her head, she tilted back craving their touch again. Wanting the moment of solitude they provided.
Alexis didn’t have to wait long. His forehead pressed against hers and calm washed over her. Somehow, some way, she had a connection to Cliff that she’d never experienced before. In the past, she had brushed it off as nothing more than a crush, but what if she had been wrong? He had the power to bring her peace in a time of chaos.
And as he spoke words from a prayer, Alexis hung onto each syllable, each consonant as it glided across her ears, basking in the tranquility. She no longer felt the tension in her leg, or the throbbing of the tugged muscles, or the pinch of her skin as Logan inserted an IV of blood; she only felt the comfort Cliff was providing. And Alexis wished that she could bottle it up and keep it for all time.
She wasn’t out of consciousness long, or it didn’t appear that way as the hushed voices of her saviors echoed in the space as they talked. Alexis hung onto their every word.
“Her entire team was killed. They were ambushed. Somehow our intel got word to the cartel that we were coming. They never had a chance.” That must be Heath explaining the situation.
A voice she recognized as Dylan’s piped in. “How did she get out?”
“Using the drone and layouts, I was able to guide her to a false air duct that let out on the side of the bunker. It was the cartel's escape route. She ran about ten miles, taking out five or six men in the process.”
“Damn,” another voice echoed outside the room.
Something soft brushed against the back of her hand and Alexis pried her eyes open, thankful that the room had been darkened, only a lamp in the corner provided any light. Turning her head, she was surprised to find Cliff resting on his arm beside her, her hand clasped inside his much larger one. Alexis took a moment to drink him in. His massive body cast in soft light and shadows looking just as handsome as she remembered.
He sensed her alertness, his brown eyes popping open in alarm and focusing on her. They stared at each other in silence, but he never ceased the gentle rubbing of his thumb against her skin.
“There was something more though. She was frantic,” Heath added in the other room, but Cliff never tore his gaze from her though he had been the one to demand a debrief. “Our team has been ambushed before and she was always the strongest and most reserved. She saw something there that scared her. And we all know Alexis, nothing fazes her.”
“But this did,” Dylan confirmed.
“We can learn more once she wakes up. Without anything but the over-the-counter meds, she won’t be out long.”
Cliff’s eyes never strayed; his stare penetrated the depths of her soul with every passing second.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his other hand moved to stroke the top of her head as if he needed to verify himself that she was across from him.
She tried to answer, but a muffled noise crawled from her lips.
“You don’t have to answer. Just shake your head.”