Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire #1)(46)

Alarm buzzed through her. “Something happens, like what?”

“I’m losing a lot of blood from this cut in my arm.”

“First of all, it’s not a cut. It is a bullet wound, and it’s really, really big,” she pointed out.

“Whatever.” He sounded exhausted.

“Second of all, please don’t say stuff like that. You are freaking me out. I should take you to a hospital.”

“If you take me to a hospital, we’re both dead.”

“Then drink more juice,” she suggested.

“It’s juice. Not a magic potion.”

She couldn’t believe he was making jokes at a time like this. While setting up alternate plans for her if he didn’t make it. “Isn’t there anyone we can call to come help us? Someone you trust?”

“No.”

She let out a breath. “Garrett?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens if I die?”

He shot her a frown. “You’re not going to die.”

“But what happens if I do? Since I’m already officially dead. There wouldn’t be another funeral.”

“No. No funeral.”

She thought about the girl’s body that was in her car when it blew up. “Would they use my body to cover up someone else’s escape?”

“I don’t know, Sam. And I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not going to happen.” He sounded very sure.

She hoped he was right.

She managed to keep him talking for the next hour and forty-five minutes until they reached a small town. The cheery lady on the GPS directed her off the main street and to turn left into an alley. Great. Another alley.

The GPS lady then said they’d reached their destination.

Sam looked around. There was nothing here. Just a dirty garage.

Garrett dug a remote out of the glove compartment and pressed the button on it. In front of them, a two-car garage door opened. He nodded, and she pulled the Jeep next to the midsize sedan parked in the other bay.

He hit the remote again, and tried to get out of the Jeep. She hurried around the vehicle to assist him and put her arm around his waist.

He directed her over to a workbench against one wall, where he flipped a switch. Fluorescent lights on the ceiling hummed to life.

She took in the musty space. The windows were all blacked out. The cement floor was spotted with oil stains and dirt, but the rest of the space was relatively clean and tidy. The other car looked completely nondescript—not new, not old, not big, not small.

Garrett sat down on a stool by the workbench and tugged at a cord. An extremely bright light came on above him, and she could feel the faint heat in the otherwise cool room as she came closer.

He’d pulled the first aid kit from his duffel and was already giving himself a shot in his right arm. He tossed the empty syringe in the trash next to the workbench and grabbed another, which he stabbed into his leg through his jeans.

“Sam, I’m going to need your help. I’m sorry.” He winced.

“Of course. What do you need me to do?”

“Stitch this up.”





Chapter Thirty-Four


Sam stared at Garret in horror. “Oh, God. Seriously?”

“Have you ever sewed anything?” he asked with a small smile.

She bit her bottom lip nervously. “I once made a pillow that was supposed to look like a pencil, but everyone thought it was a school bus.”

He chuckled. “So, not too bad, then.” He positioned the work light directly on the wound, which didn’t help her queasiness, at all. Her hands shook as she held them out to accept a bottle of antiseptic and a large pack of gauze.

“Clean it out. Dry it off.”

She nodded and went to her happy place, which was far, far away from here.

The bloody peroxide made a foamy, sizzling puddle on the floor by her feet, but she kept going. Even when he moaned in pain, she kept going.

He would keep bleeding if she didn’t close the bullet hole. It may not have been a fatal wound, but if she didn’t stitch it up so he could heal, he would most likely end up dead.

She had to do this…to save both their lives.

She patted the wound off with the gauze and it looked only slightly less intimidating. “Tell me what to do next,” she prompted.

He took another swig of juice from the bottle, then pulled out a small curved needle and a pair of pliers. Thankfully, he threaded the needle. His hands were actually steadier than hers. The man must have nerves of steel.

After rinsing off with the peroxide, she took the needle and turned toward his arm. “Are you numb?” She hoped it would make it feel less real. If he couldn’t feel it, maybe she wouldn’t, either.

“Just pull it together and stitch it up.”

“Is there some special stitch?”

“Just do your best.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. His skin was pale and clammy. She needed to hurry.

The next fifteen minutes were the second most horrible in her life. The best she could say was that Garrett wasn’t bleeding anymore. The job she’d done on his arm was awful.

She apologized profusely for her inept medical skills.

“Sam, you did better than could be expected under the circumstances. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit. You are so strong. I can’t believe how brave you are. I don’t know many people who would’ve been able to handle any of this.”