stars.
«Dear… God.»
«This is just for training purposes,» said with a whole lot of meh.
«Then what the hell do you use to fight with?» As all kinds of War of the Worlds scenarios
marched through her head, she caught the familiar scent of blood. Well, semi-familiar. There
was a different tint to the smell, something spicy, and she remembered the same winelike
fragrance when she'd been in the OR with her patient.
Across the way a door marked physical therapy, swung open. The beautiful blond vampire who'd
trucked her out of the hospital put his head around the jamb. «Thank God you're here.»
All Jane's physician instincts came online as she walked into a tiled room and saw the soles of a
pair of shitkickers hanging off a gurney. She pushed ahead of the men, shoving them out of her
way so she could get to the guy lying on the table.
It was the one who'd hypnotized her, the one with the yellow eyes and the spectacular hair. And
he really needed attention. His left orbital region was crushed inward, the lid so swollen he
couldn't open the thing, that half of his face twice the size it should be. She had a feeling the
bone above his eye was collapsed, and so was the one on his cheek.
She put her hand on his shoulder and met him in the eye that was open. «You're a mess.»
He cracked a weak smile. «You don't say.»
«But I'm going to fix you.»
«You think you can?»
«No.» She shook her head back and forth. «I know I can.»
She wasn't a plastic surgeon, but given his healing capabilities, she was confident she could
address the issues he had without marring his looks. Assuming she had the right supplies.
The door swung wide again, and Jane froze. Oh, God, it was the giant with the jet-black hair and
the black wraparound sunglasses. She'd wondered if she hadn't dreamed him, but evidently he
was real. Totally real. And in charge. He carried himself like he owned everything and
everybody in the room and could do away with it all in a swipe of his hand.
He took one look at her next to the guy on the gurney and said, «Tell me this is not what's
happening.»
Instinctively Jane stepped back in the direction of V, and just as she did, she felt him come up
behind her. Although he didn't touch her, she knew he was close. And prepared to defend her.
The black-haired one shook his head at the wounded guy. «Phury… for fuck's sake, we need to
get you to Havers's.»
Phury? What the hell kind of name was that?
«No,» was the weak response.
«Why the hell not?»
«Bella's there. She sees me like this… going to freak… She's already bleeding.»
«Ah… shit.»
«And we have someone here,» the guy said wheezed. His one eye moved over to Jane. «Right?»
As they all looked in her direction, the black-haired one was clearly cranked out. So it was a
surprise when he said, «Will you treat our brother?»
The request was nonthreatening and respectful. Evidently he'd been upset primarily that his
buddy was down for the count and not getting treated.
She cleared her throat. «Yeah, I will. But what do I have to work with? I'm going to want to
knock him out-«
«Don't worry about that,» Phury said.
She shot him a level stare. «You want me to put your face back together without general
anesthesia?»
«Yes.»
Maybe they had a different pain tolerance-
«Are you insane?» Red Sox muttered.
Okay, maybe not.
But enough with the talk. Assuming this boy with the Rocky Balboa puss healed as fast as her
patient did, she had to get operating now, before the bones knit together wrong and she had to
rebreak them.
Looking around the room, she saw glass-fronted cabinets full of supplies and hoped like hell she
could put together a surgical kit from what was around. «I don't suppose any of you have medical
experience?»
V spoke up, right at her ear, almost as close as her clothes. «Yeah, I can assist. I'm trained as a
paramedic.»
She eyed him over her shoulder, a lick of heat going through her.
Get back in the game, Whitcomb. «Good. You got any kind of local anesthesia?»
«Lidocaine.»
«How about some sedatives? And maybe a little morphine. If he flinches at the wrong time, I
could blind him.»
«Yeah.» As V started for the rows of stainless-steel cabinets, she noticed he was wobbly. That
walk down the tunnel had been a long one, and even though he seemed healed on the surface, he
was still just days out of open-heart surgery.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. «You're going to sit down.» She glanced over at Red
Sox. «Get him a chair. Now.»
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