Page 60 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

The big vein would have to be stitched and cauterized or else he’d bleed to death. Grimacing, she did what she had to do. Another liberal splash of peroxide in the wound and it was time to close up. She stitched the deep tissue as best she could, but she was no orthopedic surgeon. She did her best to connect the right muscle tissue bits together, but who knew if he’d be able to use the joint again after this.

She closed the mouth of the wound as best she could, but the ragged result was going to leave a nasty scar. One final dousing with the last of the peroxide, and she was ready to bandage up the wound.

Now to wake up Drago and keep him from going into worse shock than he was already in. She fished out all the little cans of orange juice from the room’s mini-fridge and carried them over to the bed.

“Wake up, Drago,” she called. She slapped him lightly, then more forcefully.

His eyelids fluttered but did not open.

“Don’t make me hit you again,” she threatened.

One eye peeled open a bit. “Will hit. Back,” he mumbled.

Thank God. He was lucid, if groggy. “Drink this.” She lifted his head and poured orange juice down his throat. He coughed and sputtered, but seemed to regain a little more consciousness.

He swore next, a string of highly colorful epithets having to do with how much his shoulder hurt. She ignored his complaint and continued pouring orange juice into him, along with a hefty dose of penicillin tablets and the lone dose of morphine in her med kit.

“Enough already with the juice. It tastes like battery acid,” he complained.

“You need the liquid and the sugar. You lost a ton of blood.”

“Is the bleeding stopped?” he asked.

“Mostly. I got the bullet out and did what cleaning and repair I could, but your shoulder’s a mess. You need a good orthopedic surgeon and soon.”

He started to shrug, but swore violently at the movement. Finally he gritted out, “Am I going to live?”

“Are you kidding? You’re too cussed to die. Even Satan won’t have you.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She took a deep breath. “Ready for the next crisis?”

His expression went deadly and his gaze ranged around the room quickly, as though he was looking for someone to kill. She recoiled from the killer abruptly lying before her.

“What’s up?” he bit out.

“We’ve lost Mia and Emanuel.”

He frowned for a moment before his face lit with recollection. “I gave them to Grandma. Told H.O.T. Watch to cover her retreat out the front door.”

“What’s H.O.T. Watch?”

“The backup you accused me of not having.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but now was not the time for explanations. “We have to find Grandma and the children. The police will be crawling all over Mercado, and once the Colombian Army finds out that Eduardo Lentano and his inner circle are here, they’ll come in with guns blazing, too.”

He nodded slightly, wincing at even that tiny movement. She wished she had more painkillers for him, but knowing him he wouldn’t have taken them anyway.

“Where’s my cell phone?” he asked.

She dug around in the bloody mess that had been his shirt and found the cell phone still in the pocket and covered in blood. “I don’t know if it’ll work. It’s pretty wet.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered as he touched its face.

She listened as he spoke tersely. “I’m shot. Left shoulder’s out of commission. Yes, I got emergency field care and am stable. The elderly woman and two children who fled the firefight. I need to know where they went.”

Drago listened for a moment and then swore. He muttered to her, “They didn’t have time to get telemetry on the building before things went to hell.”

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