princess! Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
Peyton sat against the door of the truck, one hand holding his gun on his thigh, his other hand pressed against his chest. As she hurried forward, her foot kicked something that rolled away with a clinking sound—an empty salipen.
KT dropped to her knees beside him. “Peyton?” Her hands touched his pulse, his shoulder, his hand where blood seeped through his fingers, before returning to his pulse. She counted Peyton’s wounds—three. Two in his right shoulder, the third far too close to his heart for her comfort.
Andi raged beneath KT’s skin, frustrated and frightened.
“What in the hell are you doing out here?” Anger, hot and fierce, made Peyton’s words a growl and she matched his glare with one of her own.
“Following Torne out here without back-up was stupid.”
“And rushing out here unarmed wasn’t?” Peyton grunted.
A voice shouted. “Clear!”
KT stood up and looked around. Rangers with flashlights moved among the parked vehicles and she spied a ranger kneeling next to a figure lying on one side of the lane. She hadn’t even noticed Massey in her dash to get to Peyton. As she watched, the ranger’s hand passed over Massey’s face, and he stood up.
Her heart plummeted. Massey was dead?
“Over here!” She waved her hand, then brought the other up when the ranger spun, gun ready. “I’m KT Marant and there’s a man here who’s been shot.”
KT winced in the glare of the ranger’s flashlight. “Just keep your hands up where I can see them, miss,” he said, moving toward her. When he reached the truck, he looked from her to Peyton.
“Captain Peyton Allers, Alliance Protectors,” Peyton said, his voice unsteady to KT’s ear. He fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it, open, on the ground.
The ranger looked down at the ID then lowered his weapon and his flashlight. Blinking away the miniature supernovas in her vision, KT lowered her hands. He keyed his shoulder mike. “Need a ParaMed ambulance in the rear parking lot.”
“10-4.”
The ranger knelt beside Peyton and swung a small pack off his shoulder. “You couldn’t move any faster than that, Captain Allers?”
Peyton grunted as the ranger pushed Peyton’s hand away from his chest wound. “Torne’s reputation as a marksman appears well-earned.” He looked up at KT as she knelt on his other side. “Can’t you follow simple instructions? You were supposed to stay inside.”
A dozen unhelpful retorts snapped through KT’s mind, but she bit her tongue because he was right, and she knew it.
“Hold these against the shoulder wounds,” the ranger said, handing KT two unwrapped bandages. She did as she was told, shifting a little to get a better angle and trying not to exert any more pressure than necessary.
The ranger tore a hole in Peyton’s shirt so he could get a better look at Peyton’s chest wound, courtesy of a penlight held between his teeth.
Trying not to think about all the things the bullet could have done to him, KT focused on Peyton’s face as he let his head fall back against the side of the truck. Pain deepened the lines in his face and staggered his breath. His skin seemed too cool under her fingers and the anger in his eyes began to fade as he appeared to strain to keep his eyes open. A knot the size of a bus settled in her chest, and she struggled to take a deep breath.
There was so much blood!
She leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Don’t you dare die on me, Peyton! I need you to stay with me.” When she straightened, his eyes were closed. Only the visible pulse in his neck kept her from shouting. “Peyton?”
The voices of the other rangers flowed over her, calls for support, confirmation of the car description and license plate number, and requests for orders. Cryptic military jargon rattled in the air and stuttered out of communicators.
She looked at the ranger who had begun to bandage the chest wound. “Where’s that
Peyton sat against the door of the truck, one hand holding his gun on his thigh, his other hand pressed against his chest. As she hurried forward, her foot kicked something that rolled away with a clinking sound—an empty salipen.
KT dropped to her knees beside him. “Peyton?” Her hands touched his pulse, his shoulder, his hand where blood seeped through his fingers, before returning to his pulse. She counted Peyton’s wounds—three. Two in his right shoulder, the third far too close to his heart for her comfort.
Andi raged beneath KT’s skin, frustrated and frightened.
“What in the hell are you doing out here?” Anger, hot and fierce, made Peyton’s words a growl and she matched his glare with one of her own.
“Following Torne out here without back-up was stupid.”
“And rushing out here unarmed wasn’t?” Peyton grunted.
A voice shouted. “Clear!”
KT stood up and looked around. Rangers with flashlights moved among the parked vehicles and she spied a ranger kneeling next to a figure lying on one side of the lane. She hadn’t even noticed Massey in her dash to get to Peyton. As she watched, the ranger’s hand passed over Massey’s face, and he stood up.
Her heart plummeted. Massey was dead?
“Over here!” She waved her hand, then brought the other up when the ranger spun, gun ready. “I’m KT Marant and there’s a man here who’s been shot.”
KT winced in the glare of the ranger’s flashlight. “Just keep your hands up where I can see them, miss,” he said, moving toward her. When he reached the truck, he looked from her to Peyton.
“Captain Peyton Allers, Alliance Protectors,” Peyton said, his voice unsteady to KT’s ear. He fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it, open, on the ground.
The ranger looked down at the ID then lowered his weapon and his flashlight. Blinking away the miniature supernovas in her vision, KT lowered her hands. He keyed his shoulder mike. “Need a ParaMed ambulance in the rear parking lot.”
“10-4.”
The ranger knelt beside Peyton and swung a small pack off his shoulder. “You couldn’t move any faster than that, Captain Allers?”
Peyton grunted as the ranger pushed Peyton’s hand away from his chest wound. “Torne’s reputation as a marksman appears well-earned.” He looked up at KT as she knelt on his other side. “Can’t you follow simple instructions? You were supposed to stay inside.”
A dozen unhelpful retorts snapped through KT’s mind, but she bit her tongue because he was right, and she knew it.
“Hold these against the shoulder wounds,” the ranger said, handing KT two unwrapped bandages. She did as she was told, shifting a little to get a better angle and trying not to exert any more pressure than necessary.
The ranger tore a hole in Peyton’s shirt so he could get a better look at Peyton’s chest wound, courtesy of a penlight held between his teeth.
Trying not to think about all the things the bullet could have done to him, KT focused on Peyton’s face as he let his head fall back against the side of the truck. Pain deepened the lines in his face and staggered his breath. His skin seemed too cool under her fingers and the anger in his eyes began to fade as he appeared to strain to keep his eyes open. A knot the size of a bus settled in her chest, and she struggled to take a deep breath.
There was so much blood!
She leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Don’t you dare die on me, Peyton! I need you to stay with me.” When she straightened, his eyes were closed. Only the visible pulse in his neck kept her from shouting. “Peyton?”
The voices of the other rangers flowed over her, calls for support, confirmation of the car description and license plate number, and requests for orders. Cryptic military jargon rattled in the air and stuttered out of communicators.
She looked at the ranger who had begun to bandage the chest wound. “Where’s that
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