“Okay,” she said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Something flashed over her face. Hope? Anticipation? Hell if he knew, but one thing was certain. Whatever it was, he was going to disappoint her.
“I’ve got a man down and Sam’s out of his league. I need you to take a look.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Okay,” she repeated. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. From his position on the floor, he had an excellent view of her long, bare legs and tousled hair. Her T-shirt had rucked up around her middle while she slept, and she tugged it down absentmindedly.
“How bad is it?” She hurried over to the closet and rifled the contents, grabbing clothes and shoes.
Sam had coached him on what to say. “Gunshot wound with severe vascular trauma.”
She cursed and dropped the clothes. Adrenaline hit him hard. Remy was in bad shape. He got that. But if he got her back quickly, maybe there was still hope. Her next words took it away.
“That’s not good, Gray.”
But Remy wasn’t dead, which meant there was still some hope left. Ignoring her clothes, she yanked on socks and sneakers, pulling her hair back in a ponytail. He wanted to say thank you, to acknowledge what she was doing. She had his team’s back, and she didn’t know what was waiting out there for her.
“The threat’s been neutralized,” he said gruffly, in case she was worried. “I’m not taking you into a hot zone.”
She nodded and turned to face him. “I know.”
There was no way for her to know that.
“I know you,” she continued. “If it was still dangerous, you wouldn’t put me in harm’s way.” The trust in her voice was a surprise. He didn’t know when he’d earned that or what to make of it. He didn’t have time to explore the unexpected feelings, however, because he had a man down. She was a doctor. He needed her. Right now, it was as simple as that.
She rushed for the door. “Let’s hit the road. You may have to carry me back, but we can run until we get there.”
* * *
LANEY CRUNCHED ALONG behind Gray. Or, more accurately, ran. Gray set a brutal pace, pushing for an eight-minute mile. He might run every day, but she’d been loading up on too many desserts. A stitch tore through her side, and breathing was its own challenge. Once again, she forced her breathing into an even rhythm, sucking air in a long, slow draw and releasing it the same way. Keep it even. Don’t panic. So it was a killer pace. So she couldn’t see where she was going. She could keep her eyes on Gray’s back in front of her, leading the way. Except he bristled with weapons like some kind of lethal hedgehog, and she kept remembering the way his paint-streaked face had risen over the edge of her bed.
Her first response had been to pull him in with her, wrap her arms and legs around him and hold him close. Relief followed by a chaser of disappointment, because he hadn’t come back for her. He’d come for a doctor. At least he wasn’t the injured SEAL this time. That was something.
The helicopter pad emerged out of the darkness, a barely illuminated concrete rectangle surrounded by jeeps and SEALs. Gray slowed to a fast walk and she almost crashed into him. He reached out a hand to steady her.
She surveyed the scene, looking for her patient. The SEALs were working in near dark and quiet. She supposed gunfire would have advertised their presence to the resort’s remaining guests, but the only source of light were the landing pad’s colored perimeter lights. It would be sunrise soon, though, and the sky above the jungle was lightening fast.
A number of SEALs—at least, she assumed they were SEALs when they ignored her and Gray—were clustered around a group of men and a single woman. Not wanting to know, she jerked her gaze away. Gray wouldn’t tell her the details of his mission, but she knew the basics. These men were fighting to keep her safe. They were heroes, and she wasn’t going to get in their way.
Gray guided her with a firm hand at the small of her back to the edge of the jungle. She could see Mason crouched on the ground, talking in a low voice on a radio. Sam was bent over a prone figure, his face intent on his task. That had to be her victim.
She dropped to the ground beside Sam. “Talk me through it. Give me the ABCs.”
Sam nodded. “Airway’s clear, respiratory rate is high, breathing shallow, but patient is breathing okay on his own.”
The shallow part was cause for concern. She assessed her patient, wishing she had an emergency department at her fingertips. The man might be alert, but he was definitely showing signs of shock, from the quick, rapid breaths to the bluish tinge around his fingernails. She clasped his wrist, not liking the weak pulse. Issue number one was clear. He’d taken several rounds to the abdomen.