Into the Night(86)

And what’s under his damn coat?

“Mace...” Bowen gasped her name. “Love...you.”

Her lips shook. “Give me the gun.”

Bowen’s hand slid toward hers.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jonah lunge to his feet.

Bowen began to fall. His hand was still on the gun. Hers was around his. Her head turned, snapping toward Jonah. He was pulling out a weapon from beneath his coat.

Macey’s hands jerked around Bowen’s, but he was already firing. They shot together. He pulled the trigger. She aimed the gun.

The bullet blasted right into Jonah’s head. He fell back, his body twitching.

And then Bowen fell, sinking to his knees.

“Bowen!”

“Make sure...” Each word seemed like a struggle. “He’s...done...”

She rushed toward Jonah. His body was still jerking and a gun was just inches from his outstretched hand. Macey grabbed the gun and tucked it into her waistband. She could tell by the wound...

He’s done.

She ran back to Bowen. His hands were wrapped around the chunk of metal in his chest and he was trying to pull it out. “No!” Once more, her hands closed around his. “Don’t! He was right. Don’t pull it out now.”

“I’m...cold, Mace.”

And she was terrified. She wanted the metal to stay where it was because she feared it had hit his heart. But, oh, God, he was covered in so much blood. So many wounds.

“Meant it...” Bowen mumbled. “Love you...”

“And I love you and you’re going to be all right, do you hear me? You just—you have to stay calm. You lie still and I’m going to get help.” She ran to the battered SUV, looking for a phone. Please be there, please be...

The SUV groaned around her. Metal screeched and she snatched up the phone as fast as she could. The screen was broken, a rough crack like a spider’s web across the surface, but it still worked. It was glowing, giving her light, and she stumbled back, swiping her finger across that broken screen, and then—

No service. No fucking service. Because she was halfway down a mountain in the woods. In the middle of nowhere.

Macey rushed back to Bowen and she sank to her knees beside him. “It’s going to be okay,” she told him again as her hand curled around his.

“You...lie...like hell...”

Tears were sliding down her cheeks. “No, everything is fine. I’m a doctor, remember?” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Love...you...”

“And I love you.” Her hand squeezed his. “So if you think, even for a second, that I am not going to make sure that you stay alive, you’re wrong.”

He didn’t speak.

“Do you hear me, Bowen? You’re going to stay alive. You are going to stay—”

His hand was limp in her grasp.

Alive.

She pulled her hand away from his and began using the phone she’d retrieved as a flashlight so she could evaluate all of his wounds. Oh, my God.

They were bad. So bad...

Then her chin lifted.

And she got to work.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

SAMANTHA AND TUCKER rushed into the dark ranger’s station. The place was pitch-black. Samantha knew that was a sign of trouble, so they went in fast and hard and silently. If Jonah was there, getting help from Ranger Douglas, she knew the lights would be shining in that place. Since it was pitch-black...

Trouble.

And why hadn’t the ranger called for help himself? That piece of the puzzle had been nagging at her. She’d tried to get the ranger station again and again during her ride up there. Sure, phone service could be damn spotty, but she’d had the PD radio in.

No response.

No one was in the dark waiting area. Empty. She had a flashlight in her hand as she swept the scene. The flashlight was right above her gun.

Tucker kicked open the door that led to the office behind the check-in desk.

“Help...” A weak, pain-filled cry.

Tucker rushed in, and Samantha was right behind him. But their flashlights didn’t fall on Jonah’s haggard face. Instead, they illuminated the blood-soaked form of Ranger Zack Douglas.

“Help...” he begged again.

*

“BOWEN?” MACEY HAD his blood all over her hands. “I need to get help for you.” She bit her lip and looked up at the top of the mountain. But I hate to leave you. She was putting pressure on some of his worst wounds. She’d ripped her clothes apart and bound up the terrible gash in his thigh, the one that made her worry he’d nipped an artery. No wonder his legs had given way on him before.

She hadn’t touched the metal in his chest. But her hands were shoving against the deep slice across his ribs. The slice that had cut his skin wide-open.

She needed help, needed to climb up that mountain. “You can’t move,” she whispered. “Understand? If I leave you, you can’t move at all.”

Her left hand swept over him once more, moving down to make sure that wound in his leg—

It was bleeding again. Too much.

Apply pressure, elevation, pressure points... She knew all the immediate ways to help and she was doing everything she could. But that was the problem—she had to keep working on him, almost constantly. If she left him, even for the few moments it would take to climb to the top and potentially get cell service or hail down a car—