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.
She looked over at Sam. “Significant intra-abdominal injury and penetrating abdominal trauma. We need immediate transport to a trauma facility.”
Sam nodded and she did a further visual assessment. It wasn’t looking good. Blood had soaked through the victim’s clothing. His eyes remained open, though, and he seemed somewhat alert, biting into his fist either for self-control or in an attempt to stay silent.
“Did you move him here?”
Gray spoke from behind her. “Yes. He was hit halfway down the road to the resort.”
“I need to know how much blood he’s lost.” That was probably a lost cause, but if Gray or one of the other SEALs could quantify how much blood her patient had lost, it would be helpful.
She listened while Sam finished running through the ABCs of triage, giving her an assessment of disability and exposure. Stripping the man down so she could examine him from head to toe was ideal, but this wasn’t a good venue. The hospital could assess more closely.
“Have you checked his back?” It was highly likely they were dealing with more than one injury.
Sam nodded. “Clear. The main injury is to his abdomen.”
She pressed her hand against the victim’s shoulder, letting him know she was there. “We’re going to take care of you.”
She didn’t recognize him and it didn’t matter. This was someone’s son, husband, Saturday-morning soccer date. Or he wasn’t. It didn’t matter. He was the guy she was going to save.
“Is it okay if I take a closer look?”
Her patient nodded then groaned.
Close range, she decided, although it was hard to tell in the near dark. “Give me a light,” she snapped and someone did. Lifting the pads off his abdomen, she eased off on the direct pressure and got her first good look. No arterial pumping, thank God, but she definitely had a major vascular injury on her hands. Frankly, she was amazed he was still conscious. “How are you doing?”
His eyes fluttered closed. “I hope Uncle Sam bought trip insurance for my vacation.”
She did, too. “You got a name for me, soldier?”
“Remy.” He mumbled something else, but then he passed out.
“He needs surgery. Belize City is probably the closest facility.” There was only so much she could do out here on an island. She needed a sonogram and an emergency department, an operating room and a full team.
Gray returned and crouched down beside her. “The medevac is inbound.”
“ETA?” Remy was almost out of time.
“Two minutes. If I could get it here faster, I would.” Team first. That truth was written all over his face.
When the chopper landed, Gray bent over Remy, shielding the man from the rotor wash blasting past the barrier of the jeep. Five minutes later Remy was on a stretcher, headed for the bird. She kept up the pressure on his abdomen, forcing the Medevac’s personnel to lift around her.
“I’ll ride with him,” she said.
Gray hesitated, and she had no idea what was going through his head. Typical. She’d bet he was the kind of guy who stoically provided rank and number only in the hands of an enemy. “If I don’t, he’ll bleed out.”
He nodded as if he’d come to some sort of decision—when hello, doctor here, she knew what she was doing—and cupped her elbows with his hands, lifting her with Remy and guiding her to a seat in the chopper.
She focused on Remy and keeping the vein pinched shut. This wasn’t how she’d planned on finishing her vacation, but she was grateful she could help. Ashley would pack her suitcase and send it on, or the resort would do it. She’d need her passport and her purse at the very least, but these were people who made things happen. She’d be okay.
And, once she’d safely handed Remy off, Stockton waited for her. Stockton wasn’t her first choice, or even her second, third or fourth, but she knew she was lucky to have a job. Better yet, she’d still be working as a trauma surgeon, which was one more thing to be thankful for. She’d ride with Remy to the closest hospital, hand him over to the resident surgeon there and then head back to real life. She’d be back in the chute, running an emergency department, before the end of the week.
Going back didn’t worry her. Not anymore. Now she was worried about this desire she had to stay. Gray had been her fantasy, a sexy dream of a man, but now it was time to wake up. So what if this wasn’t the way she’d planned their goodbye? She’d miss him, and not just in bed, although the hot sex was part of it. She’d miss the everyday, real Gray—his sweet tooth, the gleam he got in his eye when he thought she was being funny, the way he tackled life head-on and got the job done. He was the strong pair of arms holding her at night and the steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, an emotional anchor she hadn’t realized she’d come to count on. Even more, she’d miss all the things she hadn’t had a chance to learn about him yet and now never would.
But they wouldn’t have worked together as a couple. She knew that, deep down. Maybe it came from being a fixer. She fixed people on her operating room table. Sometimes you couldn’t fix people. Sometimes you had to let them go, and a relationship with Gray was a non-starter. She didn’t know how to hold on, and he didn’t want to be a keeper. So that left them drifting apart.
Gray leaned in, curving one big, warm hand around her bare knee, and she realized that she was still in her sleep shorts and tank top. She could say something now. Ask him if it was just her, or if their vacation hookup had become something more than a fantasy. And yet she looked at him and the words died in her mouth. He was the SEAL team leader. Her everyday life had no place for him, any more than there was room for her in his. That wasn’t a blame game, but it was unfixable. She had to let him go.
He looked at her, concern visible on his handsome face. “Are you going to be okay?”
No. She wasn’t.
“I’m fine,” she said instead. “If you could ask Ashley to send my things on to wherever we’re taking Remy, that would be great.”
“Will do.” For a brief moment it looked as if he might say something, but the rotors picked up speed, drowning everything in a wash of sound, and it was time to go. Apparently, her last conversation with Gray would consist of her making arrangements to have clean undies sent after her.
He leaned in and tied her hair away from her face. The strands were sticky with sweat and blood, and God knew she was a mess.
“All better,” he said, but he was wrong. So wrong, but she had no idea how to tell him that. She mumbled her thanks as he popped a helmet on her head and buckled her in. Most medevac birds lacked basic safety equipment, but this one was obviously the exception. She told herself that was a good thing. Remy didn’t need any more injuries, and getting back to her life in one piece was a good thing. Whenever she looked down, the blood streaking her forearms and legs was a visible reminder that life could be all too short.
“Was there something else you wanted to say?” For instance, I want to see you again? She had to yell the words in an undignified roar to be heard over the whup-whup of the rotors, but this wasn’t how she’d imagined their relationship ending. Okay. She hadn’t imagined that part at all—she’d been too stuck on the hot sex portion of the relationship agenda—but this was no Casablanca moment, either.