Slade

his pants. She stared with worry at the blood trail he’d left when he walked . She wanted to tend to him. Brass hesitated inside the kitchen, swept his gaze around it, and crouched. He reached the dead man, grabbed him by his collar, and dragged him totally inside the cabin. He even took a second to check for a pulse.

He shoved the body where the stove had once stood to put it out of the way.

He stayed low to the floor when he grabbed the broken countertop and used it for a shield in front of his body when he rose and slammed the heavy piece back over the window. He turned, examining the kitchen. Brass moved, a loud noise sounded, and she watched as he turned, gripped the cabinets that housed the dishes and ripped them from the wall. There were three of them hooked together but he dumped the entire section of cupboards on top of the sink as though it weighed nothing. He studied it before spinning around to meet her gaze.

“How are you doing?” Brass moved toward her.

“I’m fine. Can I look at Harley? He’s losing a lot of blood.”

“You stay put.” He glanced at the bloodstained floor, lifted his gaze to where Harley stood against the back window and frowned. “Harley? Walk to Trisha.” Brass’

gaze returned to her. “You can treat him sitting on your ass right there. You don’t move from that spot.”

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Laurann Dohner

Brass headed for the back window. Harley limped to Trisha. She shoved the table out of the way and she focused on the bleeding area. He’d been hit just under his knee on the outer side of his leg. Her fingers shook as she hooked the material of his pants with her fingers where the bullet had torn it open and widened the hole enough to see his bloodied skin. The bullet had grazed him but it was a deep cut.

Harley had a knife strapped to his thigh. She glanced at it first before she met his gaze. He watched her silently.

“Hand me your knife, please.”

He didn’t hesitate to pass it over, handle first. Trisha looked down her body, realizing she didn’t have a lot of clothes on. She gripped the bottom of her shirt and began to slice it. She took off four inches of the bottom and made a large strip and held up the knife, handle first, to Harley. He instantly reclaimed it.

“I would have shot Moon if I had known you’d cut off your clothes if one of us got shot.”

“I heard that,” Moon called out from above.

Trisha laughed as she wrapped the strip around his leg and tied it tightly. “That should hold it enough to slow the bleeding but it needs stitches.”

“It feels better already.”

“Let me see your arm.”

Harley crouched and twisted his big body to turn his shoulder her way. She quickly tore the thin material of his shirt to see the wound. It was a bloody mess. She hesitated.

“I need to feel to see how deep it is and it’s going to hurt.”

He nodded, not looking at her. “We have great pain tolerance. Go for it.”

Even though Trisha hated to do it, she eased her fingers into the ragged wound that was bleeding badly and instantly touched something there. Crap.

“I feel a bullet. I thought you said it was a graze.”

“I lie sometimes.”

Trisha used her fingertip to dig out the damaged bullet after realizing it hadn’t gone deep, feeling lucky that the projectile had gone through the cabin wall before it had struck Harley. It had slowed the bullet down significantly to prevent it from tearing completely through his body. She feared a big vessel had been nicked by the amount of blood seeping down his arm. She had to stop the bleeding and she knew he wouldn’t lie down flat for her to apply pressure until help arrived.

She could try to cauterize it but dismissed that idea. She asked for his knife again and cut off more of her shirt until the material was just under her breasts. She locked her teeth together, hating how she would have to hurt him.

“I’m packing the wound and afterward, I’m going to tie it off. The pressure from the filler will stop or greatly slow the bleeding but it’s going to hurt.”

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“Do it but just hurry, Trisha. I need to be on my feet. They will open fire on us again at any time. They aren’t just going to go away as much as we wish they would.”

Trisha balled up a small piece of her shirt and packed it into the hole. It was extreme but she didn’t have a choice. She studied it, saw a decrease in the bleeding, and wrapped a strip tightly around his arm to hold it in place, before tying it off. Long seconds ticked past while she watched the bandage but the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“Try to keep that arm as immobile as you can. This isn’t exactly a fix but more of an emergency temporary patch.”

He nodded, stood, and shoved the side table back in front of her to shield her from stray bullets. “Thanks.”

Harley retook his position by the front door while Brass stood by the back wall.

Suddenly Brass and Harley chuckled.