The Darkest Corner (Gravediggers #1)(83)

"We're following your lead here," Deacon said. "What do you need?"

"Prayers. I've never actually worked on a breathing person before. But anatomy is anatomy, and you'd be surprised some of the things I've had to do to bodies to prepare them for burial. The good news is that I'm at least familiar with how to deal with arteries, considering that's the easiest way to embalm a person."



       
         
       
        

"Probably not something we should tell Colin when he wakes up," Deacon said. "Let's run this like an op. What supplies do we need?"

The medical bay wasn't a large space, but it was well equipped. Deacon had told her that it was The Shadow's job to anticipate and prepare for any situation, and it was obvious they were very good at their job. Whoever they were.

"Right," she said. "Like an op. Let's get an IV started and a saline solution going. Someone check and see how many units of blood are in the refrigeration unit. I don't suppose anyone knows his blood type."

"Doesn't matter," Elias said. "We've got plenty of O pos in the fridge."

"What are you going to do?" Deacon asked her.

She blew out a breath, and the freckles on her face stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. She was white as a sheet, but her voice was steady when she spoke.

"I'm not a doctor. If his femoral artery is severed when we pull that knife, he very well could bleed out and die."

"It's a risk we all knew going in," Deacon said. He spoke to her briskly, a bit harsh, knowing that taking her in his arms wasn't what she needed to get through this. "You're the best shot he has until we can get to land. We can have emergency personnel waiting for him there. We're lucky to have you with us. The rest of us have basic training, but we couldn't do anything of this level."

She looked over at Colin's pale, still form and took a deep breath. "It's best if I pretend he's already dead. There's a reason I chose not to go to medical school. It takes the pressure off of trying to save a life if that's already off the table."

"Okay," he said, raising his brows. This woman never failed to surprise him. "I guess that makes sense in a freakish kind of way."

She shot him an aggravated look, and he was pleased to see a little color seeping back into her face.

"I'm not sure I understood what I was getting into when I agreed to this. I don't understand this kind of life. I come from a place where the most exciting thing that happens is when someone forgets to pick their dog poop up off someone's lawn. Deacon . . . I don't know if I can do this."

His heart stuttered and his chest tightened in agony. "Not many people can. It's always your choice, Tess. Whatever you want to do. If you still want to leave Last Stop when we're finished here, I won't try to stop you."

She nodded and averted her eyes, having no idea how many pieces she'd just left his heart in.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 




Tess was terrified.

But it wouldn't do anyone, especially Colin, any good if she hid like a coward in the bathroom. She wasn't a coward.

She'd had no idea the scope of what The Gravediggers did. For Deacon to live that kind of life for fifteen years was an unbelievable feat-the constant surges of adrenaline and danger, the skill, focus, and brilliance it took not only to be able to fight and win, but to strategize yourself and others out of complex situations when plans changed.

Waiting on the submarine had been the longest eight hours of her life, waiting to see if Deacon would appear back at the sub like he'd planned. When the doors had unlatched, she burst through, searching for him. She'd probably looked deranged, but the relief she'd felt when she'd seen him, looking like the devil's own nightmare, was the exact moment she realized she loved him.

The other realization was that this was only the first of many times she'd have to watch him risk his life. She wasn't sure she had the strength to take that kind of punishment over and over again.

She went through the cabinets, pulling bandages and instruments, setting them out on a tray. The IV was ready to go in, and all that remained was for her to find her courage.

Axel wheeled a cart into the room. "We've got about fifteen units of blood and at least a three-hour journey back to the States."

"I can only think of one option," Tess said. "And it's going to depend on whether his femoral was severed or nicked. I'd actually prefer it to be severed. I don't have the skills to go in and repair a nicked artery. It's delicate work and requires a graph from another vein."