Author's Note: Hello, hello! Chapter three is heeeere. I hope you enjoy. :)
Chapter Three
Alarmed by Adam's shove on her shoulder, Jaz turned to look.
Her eyes met a rifle. Aimed at her.
And for a few slow seconds, there was no sound. There was just the muzzle of the rifle staring back at her. Swirled in the dizzy wobble of her vision.
Then Adam collided with the gunman.
The two men fell hard to the loose rubble, the subsequent thud painfully audible.
Panicked, Jaz stood quickly, losing her balance as pain burned hot and fast through her leg. She fell to her knees with a cry, black spots clouding her eyes. Desperate, she blinked them away, anxiously scrambling to her feet. There was a jolt of agony through her shin as it scraped against a poorly placed chunk of cement, and a scream of pain ripped from her throat.
But she pressed on. Because Adam was in trouble. She could only hear the scuffles in the debris, punctuated with grunts and growls.
Stumbling through the rubble, Jaz moved quickly, hastily navigating the teetering world in front of her. Her head felt light and heavy at the same time, and still, it wouldn't stop her. She grappled for her sidearm, unsure if she could actually aim properly when she was this dizzy.
She didn't want to hit Adam.
When she was close enough, Jaz latched her free hand onto the other man, pulling with everything she could muster to tear him away from Adam. Somehow, she'd found a forgotten reserve of strength, successfully yanking the man away.
Then there was a loud cry of pain.
For a second, she wasn't sure if it was her or someone else. Then it clicked. She knew that familiar tone.
Adam.
She glanced in his direction, eyes catching fresh red on his side.
Her stomach dropped past her heels.
Quickly refocusing on the danger at hand, she gripped her sidearm tighter, blinking through the spins and turns in her vision.
And a hand clamped tightly over her injured calf.
Jaz yelled as her legs nearly crumbled, her knees shaking. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her an extra edge as she scraped her core for whatever she had left. With a growl, she tried tugging her leg from their assailant, gritting her teeth through each wave of pain. His fingers dug in further, pressing hard against torn nerves.
Desperate to escape, she got a proper grip of her pistol and aimed.
But someone fired before she could.
Confused, she checked herself for a bullet hole, even more perplexed when she found nothing. Then she realized the grip on her leg had fallen away, leaving only a steady throb. Her gaze dropped to the stranger.
She didn't have to look twice to know he was dead.
There was a sharp clatter, startling her as she whipped her head to the left.
Adam's sidearm lay forgotten in the rubble, both of his hands shakily pressed against a fresh well of blood in his side.
Blood. Slipping between his fingers. Staining the pale and bruised skin over his knuckles.
The shrapnel was gone.
Shit, the shrapnel was gone.
Still shaking from the bolting ache in her leg, she dizzily hiked over debris to get to him. There were only a few feet between them when her toe caught a stray brick. And she fell. Hard. Her aching body harshly struck the rubble, leaving her disoriented and in agony.
It would've been easier to give up. She could've just laid there, letting the pain wash over her.
But Adam wouldn't. So she wouldn't.
Sluggish but determined, she pushed herself up, whimpering as she forced herself to Adam's side. Hot tendrils of pain shot through her leg, connecting with the steady throb in her head.
She felt only half conscious, but it was enough to focus on the slippery crimson between Adam's fingers.
"Top?" she huffed hoarsely, one trembling hand settling on his shoulder. Adam laid on his back, breathing heavily and painfully. His eyes were screwed shut as his hands pressed weakly at his side.
Her vision grayed out for a moment, but she furiously willed it back into focus, hands already reaching for his injury.
"Let me see, let me see," she muttered wearily, pushing away his hands. Holding them aside, she took a look at his abdomen, swallowing thickly at the open wound. How had the shrapnel been dislodged completely? Anxious, she looked around, eyes stopping on a familiar glint of metal.
It was gripped firmly in the dead man's hand, glistening with Top's blood.
A groan brought her back into focus, warmth spilling over her fingers. She looked back down. There was so much red. Shit, there was so much red.
"Hang in there, Top. You said you wouldn't leave me here alone," she huffed, frantically pressing one hand against the wound as she dug into her pocket for bandaging. She had a limited supply. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to do anything. The black spots were multiplying, and she was quickly growing closer to passing out.
Determined to stay in the present, she ripped open gauze and packed the wound in the front with half of what she had. Without apology, she pushed Top to his side, trying to ignore the moans of pain as she did the same to the back.
This wasn't fair. This just wasn't fair.
Wasn't an abdominal wound bad enough as it was? Why this? Why now?
Without waiting, she set to wrapping the wound, carefully moving Adam as needed to get the rolled gauze snuggly around him. With both packing and wrapping, she'd used all the gauze they had left, and it was a fairly minimal bandaging job.
So right now, there wasn't much else she could do.
She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers, blood already crusting on their fingers. His hand shook in her own trembling grip, unsteady with adrenaline, pain, and blood loss.
"Top, you still with me?"
He was staring at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing under control. From the looks of it, he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, barely hanging on to the present.
But he looked like he was desperately trying to cling to what little control he had left.
Jaz held his hand tighter.
"You can't leave me here, Top. You said you wouldn't."
All that answered was strained breathing.
Half of her wished it had been only her against the gunman. But the other half was grateful Adam had seen the man at all. And she knew Adam's reaction was just part of his nature. He was a protector. A man ready to sacrifice himself for another. Jumping up to wrestle with the gunman hadn't even been a question in his mind. It was something he had to do.
She knew that.
And it was something she both respected and absolutely despised.
As she tightly gripped his hand, her head felt lighter and dizzier. Her vision tilted, and her head bobbed. Jaz's painful trek to get to Adam and her short wrestle with the gunman was finally taking its toll. Her head throbbed. Her leg ached.
Quickly growing dizzier, her head steadily drooped until it rested against Adam's shoulder.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes.
And then she was out.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Jaz."
She wasn't quite sure what was going on at first.
"Jaz."
It felt like she was underwater, struggling to get back to the surface.
"Jaz, you with me?"
A light blazed in her eye, and she quickly recoiled to get away from it.
"Hey now. I'm just making sure you didn't hit your head too hard."
Someone forced her other eye open, hitting it with the light. She jerked back harder this time, quickly regretting it as it jostled her head.
"Can you get up?"
She squinted, looking up. McG.
McG?
Jaz looked down, suddenly realizing her hands were empty. Top's hand wasn't in them anymore. Panic fluttered against her ribcage as she quickly looked to McG. "Where's Top?"
"Boys are loading him into the Humvee," he answered. His expression was grave, speaking volumes. She did everything she could to tamp down her wild fear.
"Can you get up?" McG repeated, looking more and more concerned by the minute.
It took a few seconds for the question to register. She looked down at her leg. It was bloodier now. The bandaging had been moved and torn a little, exposing some of the wound. "Probably not by myself."
As she shifted to stand, McG quickly stopped her. "Hey, hey. Take it easy. Let us help you." He waved Amir over before getting a firm grip on one of her arms. Amir took the other and the two of them steadily helped her to the Humvee, getting her into the backseat.
She froze when she saw Adam.
He was laid over the flat center of the Humvee, unconscious and pale. She retraced the cut at his hairline, the split lip, the scrape along his jaw. Her stare shifted to his abdomen, and she let it linger. Crimson was smeared on his shirt. On the bandages. On his hands.
She looked down.
It was on her hands too.
McG climbed into the very back, hands already on Adam as he rechecked his pulse and probed for other injuries. Amir slid into the other backseat, his posture anxious. Jaz looked at him, catching his eyes. She'd seen that look before. Those dark orbs so soft and full.
Amir was a unique person. His hard stare was as intimidating as the best of them—if not more. And then there were times, like this, where his face would be so honest and open. Sympathetic. Vulnerable.
She'd learned to appreciate that softer side. The nurturer behind the sharp intellect and deadly dedication.
And now, looking into those soft eyes, she could feel that familiar comfort in waves. It was what made that morning shakshuka so delicious. Amir wasn't just one of them now; he was part of what made their home . . . home. And he brought it with him wherever they went, like they all did.
She couldn't be more grateful to have him in the back of the Humvee with her. That silent comfort was something she needed, even if she was afraid to admit it.
When he spoke, it came out gently and quietly. "You okay, Jaz?"
Wordlessly, she nodded, biting the inside of her lip. In the beginning, she was so determined to hate Amir because he replaced her best friend. And even then, he was so patient and understanding. In some ways, that made her hate him more.
Now, she wished they'd been friends sooner.
Her eyes shifted to Adam's hand beside her. Black and blue bruises stood out on a couple of his fingers, with tiny cuts biting into the skin. Wordlessly, she took his hand in one of hers, careful not to move the injured fingers too much.
Jaz glanced up at Amir, but he wasn't looking.
Yet, she knew he'd seen. He was just respecting her feelings and privacy. And that alone summed up who Amir was as a person. Considerate and respectful. Always knowing what people needed.
There was a jerk as Preach stomped on the gas pedal, and the slight jostling had Jaz hissing in pain.
Amir was on high alert in an instant. "You alright?"
"Fine," she growled, moving her leg a little to find a more comfortable position.
"Sit tight. Once we get to where we're going, I'll take a look at that leg, okay?" McG explained. He was pressing down on Adam's bloody side, hoping to stem more of the bleeding.
Jaz huffed, moving her gaze to look at Adam's pale face. "Top's priority."
She could feel McG's reverent stare on her, but she didn't dare look back. They didn't have to study her hard to see the turmoil in her expression. In her posture. Because they'd all been there themselves at one point or another.
So they could imagine what it was like out there. Injured. Without backup. Watching Adam fade away while trying to stay awake yourself.
Jaz felt Amir's silent comfort again, softly washing over her.
"I'll take care of him," McG answered softly, his voice soothing.
All her guys were here.
So at least she didn't have do this alone anymore.
