Wolf Haven. Lindsay McKenna
Gray nodded and sipped his coffee. They talked as if they were old, longtime friends. Their connection reminded him of his days with his SEAL buddies. Maybe it was because Sky was a people person, loved helping others and clearly was compassionate. When a person cared, others knew it. He tried not to glance down at her hands because every time he did, he tried to imagine what they would feel like grazing his flesh. Completely inappropriate. Foolhardy. Crazy. “Maybe one of these days, you can return to the field of nursing,” he said.
“I honestly want to,” Sky admitted. “Maybe E.R. is too much for me now. I was thinking of switching to obstetrics. I love babies and children so much,” she said, her voice growing soft. “In school, I learned all areas of nursing. I would just have to be oriented to the obstetrics unit and have some in-house classroom training, but I think it’s what I’d like to do someday. I could look into it when I feel I can handle being back in a hospital setting.”
“Well, you’ll have babies and children galore around here,” Gray said, smiling.
Sky smiled dreamily. “I just love the babies. Holding them. Smelling their sweet smell, watching them watch the world around them...”
“Why didn’t you go into obstetrics in the first place?” Gray wondered.
“At the time I was a risk taker,” Sky admitted, shaking her head. “My father was a chef at a big cattle ranch, and I grew up around horses and wranglers and cattle. I was a real wild child, barefoot, daring, and I loved challenges.”
Gray felt her happiness and saw it reflected in the pools of her eyes. “You’ll do your fair share of riding around here.”
“Bring it on.”
“Maybe this job will help bring you out of the closet you got put into,” Gray said. “Riding in nature to me is a dream come true. I’d rather be outside than indoors.”
“I feel the same way,” Sky agreed, finishing her coffee. She felt tired again, knowing that she was sleep deprived. “Can I help you clean up in the kitchen? Wash dishes?”
“No,” Gray said, standing. “We have a dishwasher, and I’ll take care of things out here.”
Standing, Sky looked around the living room. There was a large television on the wall, comfortable chairs and a coffee table between two huge leather couches. “Listen, I’m turning in early.”
“You need more sleep,” Gray agreed.
“What time do we go riding tomorrow morning?”
Gray smiled a little after putting the cups in the sink. “I’m up at 5:00 a.m. to feed the animals, but you don’t have to be. Why don’t I meet you here for breakfast at 8:00? Then we can get our horses saddled and take off.”
“I love the idea of spending time in the saddle.” Sky felt her heart open, fierce emotions flooding her. “Gray...you’ve been so kind. Thank you for everything....”
Gray leaned against the counter, arms across his chest. Right now Sky appeared vulnerable. He knew the look because he’d seen it in other SEALs and had gone through it himself. It was when a person had chronic sleep deprivation, was stressed to the max and had no downtime to recoup. “Listen,” he said, “your first order of business is to get rested up. That’s number one. We’ll take your days ahead one at a time, Sky. Fair enough?”
“Yes.” She worried her lower lip and started to turn away. Then she halted and forced herself to meet his shadowed gaze. “Gray? I might have nightmares—”
“Don’t worry. I have them, too.”
“I might wake you. I scream...”
He wanted to kill the bastards who had done this to her. Forcing his reaction deep so she couldn’t possibly sense it, he rasped, “I’m here if you need me. Okay? You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, Sky. Got it?”
THE NIGHTMARE BEGAN INSIDIOUSLY, like it always did. The blackness surrounded Sky. She felt the icy coldness of the Hindu Kush night as the Taliban dragged her and Dr. Aaron Zimmerman from the crash to a nearby cave. Everything was so dark. Sky was semiconscious, blood running down from beneath the helmet she wore, blinding her left eye. She heard the enemy speaking in Pashto, the words angry and sharp. Felt the men who half dragged her tighten their grip like talons around her upper arms until she cried out in pain.
She was thrown into a cage, barely large enough for a small bathroom. The doctor was dropped beside her. Gasping, pain in her head, unable to see anything, Sky heard the rattle of a chain and then what sounded like a padlock being closed. And then the Taliban’s voices drifted away. Fear rolled through. Her whole body ached from the crash. The Black Hawk had autorotated down a thousand feet, dropping out of the black night. Something happened as the bird hit the earth, suddenly flipping, the screech of metal tearing through the cabin.
Sky was thrown to the ceiling, blacking out for a moment. She vaguely remembered the sounds of shrieking metal being torn around her, a roar entering the cabin. One moment she was in the chopper; the next, she felt herself flying through the air. She’d landed outside it, slammed into the earth, knocked out.
“Aaron!” she rasped, finding his shoulder. God, if only she could see! “Aaron! Answer me! Where are you injured?” She wiped the warm blood away from her left eye, blinking, trying to see, but it was pitch-black. Her heart was pounding, and she was shaking with adrenaline.
Aaron groaned. “M-my leg. Busted...”
“Which one?”
“L-left... Shit...we’re in trouble, Sky....”
Didn’t she know it. “Be still,” she said, her voice shaky as she swiftly ran her hands as if she were reading braille down his body to his left leg. Her heart stopped when her fingers ran into his femur, which was sticking out of his pants. This was bad. Really bad. He had an open fracture, the bone broken and splintered, tearing through thick thigh muscles and breaking out of his skin and the material of his camos. Sky felt the warmth of blood pumping strongly out from beneath her fingertips as she tried to get a mental picture of how bad the injury was. Breathing in gasps, Sky realized Aaron would never survive if she couldn’t get him medical help right away. Without light, she couldn’t find the artery that had been torn and was pouring blood out of his body.
“Hold on,” she whispered. Quickly, she took off her heavy jacket. Sky always kept a small Buck knife in the pocket, just in case. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could hardly pick up the knife. Finally, she did. Blindly, Sky cut her jacket front open so that she was able to create a canvas strip of cloth three inches wide.
“I’m creating a tourniquet, Aaron. Hold on...” She found his upper thigh, shoving the strip of cloth beneath it.
Aaron groaned.
“I’m sorry,” Sky whispered brokenly. If only she had some morphine to stop his pain, but she had nothing. Their medical bags had been in the helicopter and there was no telling where they were now.
Quickly, Sky pulled the strap of cloth as tight as she could around his thigh. Aaron groaned. But it was weaker-sounding. He was bleeding out. She had to save his life! He would die in less than three minutes if she didn’t get the tourniquet in place. With all her strength Sky pulled the strap hard, knowing it would cause Aaron more pain.
He made no sound.
Her breath hitched. No. Oh, God, no! Tightening the tourniquet even more, trying to stop the flow of blood from his torn artery, Sky fought back a sob. Her hands shook as she held it as tightly as she could. She was gasping so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. Her heart jumped in her chest. She held the tourniquet tight, praying it would work. The muscles in her arms were shaking now, not used to such brute physical demands on them for so long. If she let the tourniquet go, Aaron would bleed out and die.