Close To Danger (Westen #4)(87)
Hesitantly, Chloe stepped into the exam room. Wes lay on a stretcher-type table, his torso naked, a thermal blanket draped over his lower half except for his right leg, which was heavily bandaged from around the thigh. Beside him stood the doctor and his wife and a tall metal table.
Emma smiled over her shoulder when she saw her standing in the doorway. “You can sit right there,” she said, pointing to the cane-back chair on the opposite side of the room.
Wes lifted his head slightly and held out his hand.
Without hesitation, and not caring who might be watching, Chloe hurried to his side and slipped her hand in his. The strength of his grip reassured her that he was going to be okay.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.
“Yes. Of course. You were the one shot.”
“Saw W?den knock you down.” He tried to lift his other arm to her face. Emma grabbed it.
“Dammit, hold still, Wes,” Clint said, pausing with a medical instrument holding a needle and suture out of the way. “It’s difficult enough to sew at this angle without you making the cut a moving target.”
“Sorry, Doc.” Wes said, again his words slurred.
He rested his arm back over his head, exposing the wound on his right outer chest for the doctor to continue his suturing. Chloe focused on Wes’s face and not the repair work going on to his body. There was a reason Dylan was the surgeon and not her.
“You might…have…a…concussion,” Wes said, staring into her eyes. His pupils were bigger than she’d ever seen.
“We’ll check her out once you’re patched up,” the doctor said, not looking up from his work.
“Sorry…I didn’t…keep you…safe,” Wes said, his eyes slowly going shut.
“Wes?” Chloe squeezed his hand in hers, panic rising inside her.
“He’s okay, just asleep.” The doctor said. “Harriett gave him some Dilaudid for pain before you came in the room.”
Chloe turned to the doctor and nurse. “Are you sure there wasn’t some internal damage? Shouldn’t he be at a hospital? Getting x-rays or an MRI or a Cat Scan?”
Clint removed his gloves and stepped back so his wife could start putting a dressing over the knife wound. He pointed to Wes’s thigh. “Harriett’s triage assessment was correct. The gunshot was a through-and-through, just needed stitching up. He’ll hurt for a while and need time for the muscles to heal, but no bone was broken.” Then he nodded to the wound in his side. “The knife pierced his chest, but didn’t go through the ribs or hit his lung.”
“How do you know without doing some sort of tests?”
“He would’ve been having great trouble breathing. Skin would’ve been blue. Probably would’ve coughed up some blood,” Harriett said coming in behind them, bustling around to unlock the wheels on the stretcher. “Room’s ready, if you’re done.”
Emma nodded, moving the metal tray out of the way. Chloe scooted back against the wall as the pair started out of the room. She went to follow them.
“Stay,” Harriett commanded and continued pushing the stretcher out of the room.
Chloe froze. Everyone in Westen was wrong. Harriett hadn’t been in the CIA. The woman had been a drill sergeant in another life.
A chuckle sounded behind her. “Probably both.”
Her cheeks flushed as she realized she’d been speaking out loud. “I’m sorry. It’s just. She’s scary.”
“Tell me about it. The woman drives me crazy on a daily basis,” Clint said, taking her elbow and leading her back to the chair she’d vacated. “Wes says you hit your head?”
“No, I don’t think so. It all happened so fast. One moment I was looking into the rifle barrel—” She started shaking.
The doctor took both her hands in his, chaffing them. “Take a slow deep breath.”
She did but the shaking seemed to get worse. “Then…Wes’s face…and…W?den knocked me down.” She hiccupped and her teeth chattered. “He…saved…my life.”
A heated blanket suddenly surrounded her. She looked up to see Emma standing beside her. “It’s alright now, Chloe. It’s all over.”
“But it’s not over. Is it, Chloe?” a deep voice said from the door. Gage stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, concern in his eyes, looking very much like the town sheriff.
Chloe shook her head. Her brother-in-law was right. The danger was far from over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Turned out, having a possible concussion worked in her favor. Clint insisted Gage’s interrogation take a back seat to her examination. Slightly disgruntled, Gage had agreed and left to help his deputies deal with Hannah’s body. Chloe knew it was only a temporary reprieve. He’d be back to get his questions answered, this time with her sister.
“I’m sorry,” Wes said from the bed beside her.
“You’re awake,” she said, scooting her chair closer.
A whimper sounded from the floor near the wall where Harriett had made a makeshift bed for W?den.
“Might as well put him in here,” she’d muttered as she put the mattress from a stretcher on the floor and covered it with blankets. “No way is he leaving that wound alone if we let him out. If I’m going to have two cranky patients, might as well have them in the same room.”