Darkest Before Dawn (KGI #10)(45)

Shaking himself back to the task at hand, he glanced up at Honor to see if she was still conscious. She was, but her eyes were glazed with pain, though not a single sound passed her tightly closed lips. No betraying quiver in her body. The only evidence of her strain was her tightly curled fists on either side of her.

“I’ll be careful,” he said in an attempt to reassure her.

And then he didn’t understand why he felt the need to say anything at all. If she hadn’t put herself in the line of fire, she wouldn’t be hurt and bleeding. He ought to still be pissed, but lying to himself did no good. He hadn’t been pissed because she hadn’t followed orders. He’d been pissed because when he’d witnessed what she did, his heart had plummeted into his stomach and unholy . . . fear . . . assailed him that she would be killed. And it had nothing to do with the fact that if she died his mission would be FUBAR.

Shut it off. All of it. His stupid thoughts and feelings. He began to roll the heavy material of her burka up her legs. When he got to her thighs he gave silent thanks that she’d worn athletic shorts and a sports bra underneath. The last thing he needed was to start fantasizing about what had to be a gorgeous naked body. He had enough issues to deal with without adding completely inappropriate lustful thoughts. He already had too many recently discovered weaknesses, and he had no wish to add to that list. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt lust or experienced sexual urges. His missions were his mistress, the only thing he gave unwavering fidelity to. Getting off was something he had neither the time nor the desire for when so many lives depended on him.

There was blood smeared down her right side even past her hip, but he hadn’t yet gotten to the source of the blood.

Finally he simply tugged the burka all the way over her head and tossed it aside. When he looked back, he sucked in his breath. Beside him, Conrad swore viciously again.

Right between her bottom rib and her hip was a still-bleeding crease at least six inches long.

“At least it’s just a graze,” Conrad muttered, but anger was still vibrating in his voice.

Hancock carefully palpated the area, forcing himself not to jerk away when she flinched.

“No sign of a bullet lodged in the muscle or tissue. It bled a lot, but it’s not serious.”

He glanced up at Honor to gauge her reaction to his assessment and saw relief simmering in her deep brown eyes.

“It needs stitches,” Conrad said with a frown.

Hancock stifled a smile at how concerned he was for Honor’s well-being despite the image he projected of being an angry, ungrateful *.

“Yeah, she does. I can get it done, but I’m not as good at it as you are, and you have far more medic training.”

“I’ll do it,” Conrad said, pushing past Hancock, a med kit in his hand.

Alarm instantly registered in Honor’s eyes, the first sign of fear in this entire f*cked-up situation that she’d allowed anyone to see. Then she glanced at Conrad, who was crawling into the back with her, and unease billowed off her in tangible waves.

“I’ll be right here,” Hancock said in a soothing tone.

She didn’t look at all relieved. Her eyes never once left Conrad, and every time he pulled something from the med kit and placed it beside her, her panic intensified.

Fuck. She was scared shitless of his man and was even more wary after Conrad had yelled at her and given her a scorching dressing-down.

“Can’t you or Mojo do it?” Honor asked with quivering lips.

CHAPTER 13

TO Honor’s astonishment, Conrad grimaced and actual regret flickered in his eyes. She was even more shocked when he curled his rough hand around her much smaller one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You aren’t wrong about me,” Conrad said. “I’m an unfeeling *. But you deserved more than what you got from us all when you saved my life. I was pissed, yes. But not for the reason you likely believe. I was pissed because it was my job to protect you. Not the other way around. And if I’d done my job right, you would have never taken a bullet for me.”

Honor opened her mouth to argue, but Conrad silenced her with a black look.

“I also understand why you don’t want me to stitch you. You don’t trust me as much as you do Hancock and Mojo. You shouldn’t. I’m not a good man. But I can make you at least one promise. I will do this and it will be done right and I’ll do my best to keep the pain at a minimum.”

“O-okay,” she said shakily. “Let’s just get it over with so we can get out of here.”

Hancock sent her a look of regret. “We’re leaving now. Conrad is going to stitch you on the road. It’s our only chance. We can’t stay out in the open for a prolonged time.”

“I’ll numb it,” Conrad said in as soft a voice she’d ever come out of his mouth. “And I’ll give you an injection for pain before I set the first stitch. You won’t feel it. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, finally relaxing and accepting Conrad’s honesty and also the fact he wouldn’t hurt her any more than possible.

Conrad’s features became a storm cloud once more and she shrank back against the covers, quickly rethinking her decision to allow him to stitch her wound.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Conrad said fiercely. “It is I who owe you a debt of gratitude I can’t possibly ever hope to repay. And Hancock and his men are equally grateful to you no matter that they posture and act like angry *s. You scared us all.”