Viking Warrior Rebel by Asa Maria Bradley Page A

himself.
    He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and spread it on the bed before lowering Astrid onto it. He wouldn’t know the extent of her injuries until he removed her clothes. Feeling slightly uneasy about undressing her while she was unconscious, he forced his mind into clinical mode and scanned her exposed skin for wounds as he peeled off her jacket, some kind of knife harness, and her T-shirt. He found plenty of bruises on her upper body and a knife injury on her left forearm. It appeared only superficial, so he moved lower.
    The fabric tied around her thigh was soaked, but no new blood trickled through as he loosened it. He couldn’t get the jeans to cooperate. He finally reached for his utility tool and cut through the denim so he wouldn’t aggravate her injury more than necessary. Then he returned to the bathroom for soap and to fill the ice bucket with warm water. As he cleaned the injury with a soft washcloth, he checked for infection. The skin around the gash was red and irritated, but there was no discolored discharge.
    Breathing a sigh of relief, Luke continued wiping Astrid clean of blood. He didn’t find any other injuries except for a few minor abrasions on her legs. They would heal on their own. In the first aid kit that he never traveled without—once a Marine, always a Marine—he found a suture-and-needle package. After irrigating the gash with alcohol, he broke the sterile package and retrieved the pre-threaded needle. He applied small, precise stitches to close the wound. She’d hopefully not have too much of a scar. Stitching up your own injury sucked balls big time and hurt too much to pay attention to scarring, which was why part of his shoulder looked like Frankenstein had stitched it together.
    He cut the last piece of suture and put some antibacterial gel on her wound before placing a large sterile dressing to stop the small trickle of blood his stitches had caused. Astrid’s heart rate and breathing were still steady, even if he wished her pulse was a little stronger. He tucked her under the covers and gathered the bloody towel, jeans, scarf, and discarded medical supplies. The metal trash can seemed like the perfect fireproof receptacle, so he went out on the balcony to burn it all. No reason to leave DNA evidence behind, although he kept one small blood-soaked square of the scarf. He’d run a match search through some of the FBI’s databases.
    He’d just returned inside when his work cell phone rang. A quick glance on the display revealed it was Special Agent in Charge Whalert. Luke hesitated. He hadn’t reported in for weeks and had known eventually the boss would track him down. He’d just hoped the guy would have so much on his plate that Luke would have a little longer before he had to explain being out of touch. The phone stopped ringing but immediately started again. Whalert again. As impossible as Luke knew it was, this time the ringtone seemed more insistent.
    Luke took a deep breath before stepping out onto the balcony again. He hit the button on the phone that would connect him with his probably very irate boss. Before he had a chance to even squeeze out his name, Whalert was barking in his ear.
    â€œWhat the hell, Hager? Almost a month and you don’t check in?” Whalert’s voice was so loud that Luke wouldn’t be surprised if Astrid could hear the guy, despite the patio door and her unconscious state. Yep, definitely pissed off.
    Luke’s ears rang from hearing his real name at such a loud volume. “In my defense, I’ve been a little busy running a nightclub while also handling my mission and maintaining cover.”
    â€œDo we really need to have the talk about why you need to follow procedures? We have some leeway within the DTU since we’re mostly off radar, but even I demand some sort of protocol.”
    Luke felt like a little kid being reprimanded. His body was actually squirming. He reminded