Thin Lines (The Child Thief #3)(45)

“Yup,” she said. “I’ve got a pair of shorts here, and at least that will give you a view of the leg without leaving her in her underwear.”

“I appreciate that so much,” I said sarcastically.

Nelson shot me a look that told me to shut it, and I grinned at her, unable to stop myself. I had butterflies flying through my stomach from the moment with Jace, and though my leg hurt, it was buoyed up by the endorphins flowing through my body. Not even the thought of having to undress right here in the cave in front of everyone, somehow getting not only my jeans but also that darned suit over a bruised leg, could ruin the way I was feeling.

Until Nelson dragged me farther back in the cave, into the gloom, and we actually started trying to do it. My T-shirt was easy enough—over my head and onto the floor, and that was that. Getting the suit down to my waist was easy as well. But at that point, we hit a big snag. My jeans wouldn’t go down past my hips. Or rather, they would on one side, but not the other. My leg was so swollen that it was pressing out against the seams, and, much to my embarrassment, we couldn’t get them off.

I stared down at them, mortified. They hadn’t been this tight when we were at my cottage. Evidently the fall in the meadow had done more damage than I’d realized.

“Scissors,” Nelson said grimly. “I hope you’re not too attached to those jeans, and I hope you’ve got a second pair in that luggage you brought.”

I looked up at her and nodded. I wasn’t usually one to waste a pair of pants, not when I didn’t have money to buy more, but I didn’t think we were going to get them off any other way. And I didn’t feel like living in them for the rest of my life. Or cutting my leg off.

“Let’s do it,” I told her.

“Anyone got a pair of scissors?” Nelson called into the front of the cave.

Jace, ever the man with the tools, walked right to his backpack and pulled out the scissors we’d used—had it only been earlier that day?—to strip the wires on the scooters. He handed them to Nelson, and then she turned to me, put the scissors to the ankle end of the jeans on my injured leg, and started cutting.

Several seconds later I was free of the jeans, but we were facing another problem. The suit was made of some sort of metal that could slow bullets and control temperature. There was no way we were going to be able to cut through it.

“Where did you guys get these things?” Nelson asked, staring at it.

“Alexy and Zion,” I said shortly, assuming that was enough information to communicate the complexity that came with those two and their contacts.

Nelson simply nodded and went back to the problem at hand. “Well, we’ll start at the top and try to pull it down,” she said firmly. “Maybe it will… I don’t know, stretch?”

We both looked down at the suit, doubtful, but then I decided to just go for it. What did we have to lose, really? I shoved my thumbs under the top rim of the suit… and pushed.

It was incredibly painful because I was pushing the thumb of one hand right down a leg that was sporting what I expected to be an extremely ugly bruise. But to my surprise, it worked. The suit slid over my leg like the limb was still the exact right size, and before I knew it the metal mesh was pooled around my feet and I was standing there in a cave, in the middle of nowhere, in nothing but my bra and underwear.

I bit my lip and glanced down at my leg, half curious and half terrified to see what it looked like. It was throbbing badly now that we’d taken the support away and the blood had started rushing through it again. It made me worry that it was a lot worse than I’d thought.

It was. Or rather, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was not as straightforward as I’d been hoping. The outer half of my leg, from hip to knee and inner hamstrings to outer edge, was black and blue, and not even subtly. No, this was extreme discoloration, worse than anything I’d ever experienced before.

“Crap. Where did you get shot?” Nelson breathed.

“Somewhere below my hip,” I murmured vaguely. “But it must have hit some big vein for there to be that much bruising, right?” I looked up at her, hoping she’d have a comforting answer for me, but not really expecting it.

She was frowning. “I don’t know anatomy well enough to know,” she said. “But that looks like a lot of bleeding under the skin. Blood in places it shouldn’t be.”

She shoved the shorts and my T-shirt at me before I could follow that thought too much further, and said, “Well, don’t just stand there staring at yourself. Put these on.”

I grabbed the clothes, embarrassed. “It’s not like anyone is gonna try looking!” I hissed back.

“Oh my God, are you actually that blind?” she asked, shaking her head.

Before I could ask her what exactly she meant by that, she turned around and walked away, leaving me to my own devices.

I scowled after her, then started getting dressed again, drawing the shorts carefully up over the bruise and swelling in my leg and getting into my T-shirt again.

I didn’t know what Jace had in mind in terms of treatment, but the quicker we got it over with, the quicker we could go to work on that timeline. And, with luck, the quicker we would figure out what the hell we were supposed to do next.





18





I marched over to the edge of the cave where Jace was sitting with his back leaning against the rough wall, crossed my arms, and gave him my sassiest look. “Okay, let’s get this over with. What are we going to do about the leg?”