Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,3
dangerous.
KT beats me to a solution. She stands and moves to the bed. “Laiyla, help me upend this mattress. Chloe, bring those chairs over here.”
It takes me forever to find my feet, and the side chairs in the room feel like they’re made of concrete. KT shoves the mattress off the bed, and Laiyla helps tilt it against the wall of glass.
“Brace this,” KT tells Laiyla, then moves the nightstands and dresser up against the mattress to hold it in place against the windows.
I get the chairs into position on the other side of the room, behind the safety of the mattress. “You two sit down so I can take a look at you.”
KT and Laiyla obey, dropping into the upholstered chairs, exhausted. I sit on the edge of the bed’s box spring, facing them, and assess their injuries. My time in third world countries taught me the value of basic first aid and lifesaving skills, but those aren’t going to do much for the discolored egg rising on Laiyla’s temple. I’m most immediately worried about her, but she’s able to follow my finger with her eyes, and her pupils are both equal in size.
“Other than the bump on your head and a few nicks and cuts,” I tell Laiyla, “you look like you’re in pretty good shape.” I turn my attention to KT and wince. “You, on the other hand, are a different story. We need to get you out of the wet suit so I can get a look at all the damage.”
We get KT to the box spring where she can lie down, and Laiyla and I dig into rips in the wet suit, tearing it away from KT’s body piece by piece. Underneath, she’s wearing a bikini, exposing a fit body with dozens of cuts, some that will need stitches. “That coral tried to devour you.”
“Could have been a hell of a lot worse. I’m still shocked I’m even alive. I never would have gone down if they’d correctly forecast this cyclone.”
“This is a cyclone?” Laiyla asks. “They said it was a tropical storm.”
A wind gust shoots something large and hard against the wall of glass, rattling the entire studio, and we all jump again. I suspect our startle reflexes will be stuck on high for quite a while.
“This is a cyclone,” KT says with confidence.
“I’ve been in a couple of hurricanes,” I tell them, agreeing with KT on the severity of the storm, “but not this bad. I bet this storm jackknifed. The weather changed really quick.”
KT repositions herself, resting her forearm across her eyes and hisses out a breath between her teeth. “I think I have a couple of breaks.”
I reassess her body, but nothing is obviously out of place. “Where?”
She takes a deep breath and winces. “Ribs, and maybe my left foot.” Then she moves her arm to her forehead and grins. “Sorry, Chloe, I’m going to opt out of your ‘deep breathing’ clinics.”
That makes Laiyla laugh. “Oh, shit.” She presses her palm to her head. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow.”
“Adrenaline is wearing off,” KT says, staring at the ceiling. “Pain is going to come on something fierce.”
Laiyla wets a washcloth for me, and I clean blood away from KT’s wounds while Laiyla searches the room for supplies. She manages to find bottles of water and snacks and a basic first aid kit. Then, as I do my best to close KT’s deeper cuts with butterfly stitches made out of Band-Aid adhesive, we get to know each other better.
KT is a marine engineer who works in the engine room on cruise ships. Laiyla is high up the corporate ladder in her parents’ hotel chain. In the face of these accomplished women, I’m embarrassed to say I take jobs as they come and live in the moment, moving from place to place as soon as I get the money to travel.
“What about you, Chloe?” Laiyla asks.
“My background is similar to KT’s to some degree. My mom ran off with another guy when I was young. Unlike your dad, who sounds amazing,” I say to KT, “mine was a drunk and lived in the bottle, so I was raised by my older sisters, who both bailed as soon as they were eighteen, leaving me alone to take care of my dad.
“When I was old enough, I followed their lead and became a nomad, searching for healing. I mean, I didn’t know that’s what I was looking for, and I sure as shit fell into my fair