“That oath means you need to step aside and let me do my job. Whatever’s wrong with Gray, I can fix him.”
“Maybe.” Mason looked thoughtful. That had to be a good sign, right? Because the man was almost as impassive as Gray. When he stepped aside, she made a beeline for Gray’s door, throwing it open without knocking.
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.
“You might as well tell her,” Ashley said from the bed.
“Or we can assume that I’ve already correctly guessed you’re not a masseuse.” She taped the dressing over the wound site.
“It’s not all I am.”
Objectively, she’d known the moment she walked into his room that he’d been keeping secrets. Apparently, practice didn’t make the familiar, sick sense of betrayal any easier to swallow, though. Harlan had tried various excuses for his infidelity. Eventually, he’d settled on the it was just a fantasy story. On the one hand, Gray didn’t owe her anything. She hadn’t needed to know that the US Military was at work on Fantasy Island. On the other hand, she’d had every right to know that her lover wasn’t who she thought he was.
“Don’t split hairs with me.”
“I’m also SEAL Lieutenant Commander Gray Jackson.”
Part of her, the part that wasn’t busy being Doctor Laney Parker, realized she hadn’t known his last name. She’d had sex with this man without knowing his name. She wasn’t sure what that said about her, but that was something to worry about later. When he wasn’t bleeding. “You’re here on an operation.” It explained a lot.
“I can’t tell you the details.”
“Then give me the big picture.” Surely he owed her that much for the patch job.
“We got word that Fantasy Island was expecting a particular guest. A guest that Uncle Sam has an interest in.”
“Will that guest be checking in today?”
He eyed her. “Not anymore.”
“Should I be expecting additional patients?”
He shook his head and straightened up. Slowly. His color wasn’t ideal, but it had improved. “As soon as the weather clears, we’ll get you off the island.”
Figured. He left or she left. That was the story of her life.
“Am I in danger?” Risking her life would be stupid.
He exhaled harshly. “Not if you take orders and stay put.”
“Fun times for me.”
“As soon as the weather clears, we can get you off the island.”
“Offer noted.” But she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. “Keep the wound clean and dry. No swimming, no strenuous activity, so keep covert assaults to the minimum. After twenty-four hours, you can remove the bandage and wash the area with soap and water.” She leveled him with a look. “Spread an antibiotic ointment over the site and reapply the bandage. I’m also putting you on a course of oral antibiotics.”
“Yes, Doctor.” This time his voice held a thread of amusement. The bastard was feeling better. “But that’s a pass on the painkillers.”
Of course. Because he was Superman and impervious to pain.
Knowing he was a rough-and-tough SEAL explained his dominant side, but it also meant she’d never been in charge of their relationship. He’d been in control from day one, both in bed and out. The smart part of her demanded an immediate evacuation of the island—her fiancé had certainly taught her the dangers of men who wouldn’t open up and share—but another part of her wanted more. More Gray, more pleasure and a chance to explore the darker side of passion...
Sam rose to his feet, packing up his kit and disposing of the used gauze in a plastic bag. “Take it easy, okay? You don’t have to save the world singlehandedly this morning. It can wait until tomorrow or next week.”
Naturally, Gray didn’t say anything. He was Mr. Stoic, keeping his feelings to himself. She got that he was no fan of opening up, but she needed words from him.
“Here’s a hint,” she said in a clipped voice. “We’re having a conversation. I say something. You say something. It works like tennis or ping-pong.”
“Or tossing a live hand grenade back and forth,” Levi added helpfully.
Gray cursed. “There are things I can’t talk about.”
No kidding. “If you tell me this is one of those things, I might scream.”
“Fair warning.” He looked around the room at their audience. “Out.”
Her nipples tightened at the command in his voice as everyone else jumped to obey. Staying professional with this man was impossible.
“I expected details,” Ashley said, brushing past her and making for the door.