The door bounced off someone large and immovable. A second later a hard male body slammed her up against the wall and pinned her in place. Dimly she registered that she’d have bruises tomorrow, but adrenaline spiked, her body amping her up for fight or flight. Heart pounding, she fought to breathe, her fingers scrabbled at the powerful forearm across her throat. When that didn’t work, she kicked out, and the man immediately immobilized her legs with one of his own.
“Levi. Put her down,” someone snapped. Ashley’s voice, but what would her new girlfriend be doing in Gray’s room?
Levi dropped her feet to the ground and removed his forearm from her throat. He looked dubious, but at least breathing was now a possibility. She sucked in air for a moment, concentrating on not having a heart attack, and then shoved him out of the way. He let her. They both knew that, but it felt good.
“Explain.” She snapped the one-word order to Ashley, but she was already moving toward the two men standing by the sink. The room was crowded with too many people for the limited space. She counted Ashley. The Neanderthal who’d pinned her. A second man. And Gray. Oh, my God. Gray.
Shirtless, Gray strangled the porcelain rim of the sink with his fingers. Blood streaked the bowl and his side. The unfamiliar man crouched beside him, the contents of a medic’s kit strewn across the bed. Her instincts—and possibly her heart—demanded she rush across the room and pull him close. Wrap him up in her arms and promise everything was going to be okay.
Not helpful.
Drawing on years of training, she forced herself to perform a quick visual assessment of the wound while she leaned over the sink, soaping up because clearly Gray needed a doctor and not a girlfriend. From here, she could see a long, bloody crease in his side, but without an obvious entrance or exit wound. There was also no visible powder stippling, no telltale spray of gunpowder residue around the injury. He’d likely been fully clothed when he’d been shot, with more than one layer between him and the bullet. He was upright, indicating he’d walked to the room.
“Tell me what we’ve got.” She grabbed his wrist, checking his pulse while she waited for Gray’s answer. His heart rate was elevated, but that was to be expected.
“Go back to your room,” he gritted out.
She ignored him. Typical male. Either he’d injured himself doing something stupid or—more likely, from the looks of his audience—something illegal and dangerous. He didn’t want her to witness this? Too bad.
She performed a more detailed head-to-toe assessment. Since his pants had no visible tears, his injuries were likely limited to the one bullet wound. It could have been worse than what looked to be a bad graze. She grabbed the paper towel Ashley held out and dried her hands off.
“I’m a doctor. Switch,” she ordered.
The guy performing first aid hesitated. “Sam Nale. Combat medic.”
She almost snarled at him, but then her training took over. This wasn’t Gray. It was a gunshot victim.
“Step out and let me take over.” Switching places with the medic, she got her first closer look at the injury. “Bullet creased the left side. Close range. Do you have a local anesthetic?”
Sam nodded. “I’ve got a regional.”
“Shoot him up and I’ll finish cleaning it out before I stitch it up.”
“No drugs,” Gray gritted out. “This is—”
“Don’t say it’s just a scratch,” she said. “Because try walking around with an open wound in the tropics and see what happens. I guarantee you won’t enjoy it.”
He shut up, then Ashley snorted. “He’s a guy. You can cut his leg off and he’ll still say he’s fine.”
She probed the injury carefully. “Do you know the make of gun?”
“Why?” Levi leaned in, watching her more closely than a first-time dad at a birth as she began to irrigate the wound. Gray’s breath hissed through his teeth and she laid a gentle, calming hand on his back.
“Professional curiosity? It could also be because I’m weighing the odds of the bullet having fragmented. In which case, I’m going to have to do some digging to make sure we’re completely clean here.”
Ashley exchanged looks with Levi. Clearly deciding how much to share, but that was okay. Sutures, she decided, finally satisfied the raw crease in Gray’s side was as clean as she could get it. He also needed a course of antibiotics.
“A semiautomatic.” Gray didn’t flinch as she set the first stitch.
She whistled. “That’s not standard resort wear.”
“Nope.” He didn’t volunteer any more information, though.