Teresa had helped Pote get wounded James onto the back seat of the Escalade and had pulled him to lie down on her lap as the confidence with which he had stumbled out of his car was gone. He was in a half conscious daze now, sweating, and woozy, but still trying to sit up as if holding his own now or the blood on the white leather of the SUV mattered.

He cursed through his teeth, and she knew the pain was sharp and substantial. She remembered it from the time she had been shot in the leg and could only cringe at the thought of it in the abdomen.

A second after the car had lunged forward, he grunted as he lost the grip and the pressure on the spot where his middle section was bleeding and she could see his head rock to the side. His adrenaline was not helping him anymore; it had ensured he had reached them without fainting, but now the blood loss was taking over.

She knew he could have vital organs hit, she had read that a gut wound most times was fatal, and if not the loss of blood could take the person out in about 20 minutes.

His forehead was clammy to the touch, his breathing ragged; she could say the pain was excruciating and he was making an effort to stay awake and losing the fight. She pressed her hands on top of his over the wound and hoped the pressure was right as she had no clue how hard was ok: this was his abdomen, not her leg.

Time had stopped… or was crawling. The drive to the safe house was 20 minutes and her mind screamed that James may not have 20 minutes. But she was sure Pote would get there faster! He knew what was at stake!

She started praying to Malverde that Fate didn't take him away, she could feel her lips moving and knew he could see her. He looked listless but had not blacked out. She kept pressing the her hands over his and murmured in his face: "Stay with me, we are almost there, please stay with me!"

His gaze became glossy, and his whiskey eyes seemed so dark one could say they were black.

At this instance Teresa realized he was slipping away from her. She cold felt terror and panic grip her entire being. Why were they moving so slow?

Then they both jumped forward as Pote swerved and she realized he was actually speeding. Her heart blipped again in the hope that they'd make it on time. So would the doctor! The doctor would be at the safe house, the room would be ready! He lived very close, way closer than the warehouse they were coming from.

She needed to talk to James, to keep him awake! Then she felt him start to shiver and his teeth chatter.

"You're cold", she blurted out and touched his forehead with the back of her hand, trying not to smear more blood on him, while still pressing her other hand on his.

Her heart jumped to her throat as he grunted, trying to speak though the pain emanating from his insides: "It won't be much longer…" he wheezed.

"Don't say this! You can't do this to me, James! Don't do this to me, please!" her mind flashed her an image of him, running off into the shootout at the Galveston port when she had again urged him in the same desperate way not to 'do it". "I can't lose you, please stay with me!" she kept repeating.

She had the faintest feeling that he had squeezed or had tried to squeeze her fingers, but then it seemed to her that he hadn't moved his hands that were pressing on the wound. Their eyes met for a brief second and then she lost them as his couldn't stay focused, she said: "Who's after me? Please talk, stay with me! No me dejes, mi amor, no me dejes, por favor, habla conmigo". She didn't really care who was after her, if they were coming right now or later. All she cared about was him not blacking out until they got to the house.

Guero had died twice in her life, but she hadn't seen any of these times. This time, as James was losing consciousness in her arms, she felt the cruelty of the loss with force she didn't think was possible.

"You can't do this to me, James!" she repeated and saw his effort to focus on her and mumble though pale lips: "Hmm…I won't…if I can help it…".

His eyes closed his head lolled an inch to the side, which moment took all her strength away. She hadn't felt such piercing pain in her heart ever before.

"Check his pulse, Teresa!", Pote yelled from the front seat and she realized that she had been saying 'no, no' out loud in her panicked voice.

She frantically grabbed his wrist and tried to locate a pulse, but her bloodied fingers were slippery and because her mind couldn't accept that there may be no pulse to feel, she told herself again and again that it was her fingers' fault and that she couldn't feel his pulse because it was weak, while all she could hear was her pulse pounding in her ears.

Her vision blurred slightly, not from tears but from the stress that had gripped her. He could not be dead, not on her lap, not like this. He had said he had a plan for a future that didn't include this! Him dying from a bullet meant for her!

Her hand frantically moved her hair back as she shoved her face in his trying to feel a breath. He cannot die on me, I cannot take him dying for me, not him, not again! And yelled a silent prayer to Malverde again squeezing her eyes and struggling to breath herself.

Then she felt his breath touch her face; it was very weak, like a breeze of something foreign and almost surreal, and her whole body felt so weak as relief flooded it and the tears just rolled down her cheeks.

"He's alive…hurry", she shouted lifting her head up only to realize that they were inside her property as the SUV came to an abrupt stop.

She heard squealing tires and a second later George, who had been driving James's car behind them sprung opened her door, took a second to register her tear and blood stricken face, then said in one breath:" Make room, let me get him…we don't have much time if he is still alive…:" Teresa followed the order in a haze, not wanting to let go of her hand on the wound.

"Is the doctor here?", she realized they were at the back entrance of the safe house.

"Yeah…", George was able to hiss, pulling James under the armpits and not sparing her a glance, while Pote had already shoved her even further aside to be able to grab James's legs so that the two of them could carry him inside.

Teresa visibly shivered at the sight of all the blood on the back seat. She tried to swallow and realized her mouth was so dry that she felt pain and would choke. Then she quickly followed the men inside to find Kelly Anne helping the doctor with the makeshift bed and the IV stand.

Then everything became a blur and she remembered someone giving her water; most likely Chicho, and helping her sit down on a chair.

The doctor had been operating on James almost an hour. He had told them to move aside after setting up the IV and having the men help with the removal of James's top clothes. Then he had told them to wait outside as the was dealing with an open wound and the setting was far from sterile. Kelly Anne was the last one to exit the room and sit next to George, while Pote and Chicho could be seen abusing a pack of cigarettes on the balcony.

When the doctor came out the tension in the air was palpable. He breathed hard and as Teresa had jumped and was in his space, face pale, hair plastered on her sides, clothes still bloodied, the man shook his head and said in a heavy voice:

"He's alive…the bullet didn't hit any vital organs, but it exited, and he was losing blood from the back…I have sewn him up, he is not bleeding anymore….and that's all I can do for him here!", the tall man of about 60 years looked at them pointedly.

"He will be okay, right?", Teresa said fast, her face pale and drawn from exhaustion and mental turmoil. So, that's why there was so much blood on the seats, he was bleeding from the back as well.

"I can't guarantee anything…."the doctor said in a very reserved manner.

"What do you mean?", Teresa was wheezing now. Her peripheral vision caught Pote and Chicho come in and move to stand right behind her.

"Is he still losing blood?" Pote's voice was deep and ominous.

"No, like I said I stitched him up well…good that you got him on time, " the doctor was staling and it was obvious.

"Then, he'll live?", George said in a tone as grim as when he had discovered his Somali band slain in a pit.

"That's what I'm saying", the man started talking again, but Teresa interrupted him fast.

"What exactly are you saying?' her voice showed she couldn't hold herself.

"I am saying," the doctor said emphasizing every word: "…that I can't guarantee he'll pull through because he lost a lot of blood…and …ahh…he needs a hospital!"

"We can't take him to a hospital. You know that!" Pote grumbled.

"It's his life", the doctor raised his voice a little: "I am not a magician…he is a strong young man, but it's a lot of blood he's lost! He needs a hospital!"

"To get a blood transfusion you mean?" Kelly Anne's voice trembled a little as she said almost to herself.

"Yes, he doesn't need another doctor…he needs a blood transfusion….I'm telling you, Teresa! Otherwise, his chances are not overly optimistic!", the doctor wasn't usually dealing with La Jefa directly but he knew who called the shots, so he spoke directly to her.

"Carajo! Puta madre!", Pote was cursing under his breath. "The cops will be all over us if we take him to the hospital".

"Are you sure?" Teresa kept pressuring the doctor. "Going to the hospital is a huge risk, and I need to be certain you believe he won't make it…for me to take this risk", she was pale and her voice seemed to have difficulty coming out. But she seemed to be considering the hospital to save James's life and the rest looked briefly at each other trying not to attract her attention. Pote sighed loudly as he realized he was not surprised with the thought that she would risk getting on the police radar for her cabron James.

"Think of something else fast, cabron!", Pote heard himself grumble looking even fiercer.

The doctor got startled at the tone, as Teresa's head went up with a jerk motion and she said fast: "My blood type is O negative, I can give to anyone!"

As everyone looked at her askance, she added: "I can give him blood, you set it up now…and fast!", her voice did not leave any doubt to those who knew her that she was dead serious.

"But…but..", the doctor stuttered. "I can't verify his blood type…you'll kill him if your blood is not what you say…you realize that?"

"I do, but I won't kill him!" Teresa said in a more determined way. Why carajo do you have to argue with me and waste time? "I was in a Mexican hospital for weeks and I know my blood type with certainty…do you have the necessary equipment?" she asked.

"Yes…I have a hose, but I cannot take responsibility", he couldn't finish as Pote had taken out his gun and had pointed it to his head. He glared at the man as he click loaded it: " Callate cabron! (shut up). We don't want you to take responsibility, just the hose out…Now cabron! You heard her! Ese cabron ne puede morir (he can't die)."

The air was filled with fear and pressure! The doctor looked scared for someone who stiches bullet ridden narcos. He tried one last time: "I have taken an oath…I cannot make harm!" and before Pote could jump at him, Teresa said calmly: " You aren't going to harm him! I would never let anything happen to his man! It's on me!" she didn't blink for the half minute she stared at him.

Finally, the doctor turned on his heel and walked in the room where his bag of equipment was put on a chair. He started taking out two hoses, needles and stoppers while Pote followed him with the gun pointed at him.

"You need to eat and drink." The doctor was talking to Teresa with his back turned to her.

"What?" she said flatly.

"I saw you drinking water when I came out", the plastic bottle Chicho had given her. " This is good, but you need to eat something salty meaty …say a burger!"

Pote nodded to Chicho who was already on his heel even before the doctor had finished his sentence.

Teresa sat on the chair next to James and looked at his left arm where the doctor had stuck the needle, which was hooked to the scary looking hose. His other arm was hooked to the IV with the antibiotic and the morphine drips. James looked pale and she needed to stare to see his chest actually rise. He was still in his bloodied tank top, and she told George to check his car for clothes as the sight of the blood make her weak.

The burger and the water arrived in not more than ten minutes and Teresa who was forced to come out of her trance to eat, kept hearing Pote say several times: "Por Dios come Teresa, que comas! (For God's sake eat, Teresa, I need you to eat)", while pacing around in his heavy footsteps.

Teresa slightly winced as the doctor slid the needle in her arm and continued drinking the water staring ahead. The tension in the room was even more palpable as the crucial moment was there.

"This is it, Teresa!" the doctor said with a finality in his voice. "If you're wrong, he'll convulse and stop breathing". Teresa just looked at him with the stone face she had perfected when she had been forced in his life where such situations were a daily occurrence.

"Once I take off the stopper, there's no return…", but she cut off his rambling short this time; " Just do it!"

The next minute was as tense as it could get. The transparent hose filled in with dark red blood and it slowly reached James's arm and as nothing happened for the five…ten…fifteen seconds that passed, everyone felt the tension go down a little.

Nobody spoke; the doctor took out a paper towel and handed it to Teresa almost whispering that she should pump her fist with it, which she started doing looking at him intensely.

After a few minutes, the rise in James's chest became more noticeable and his color changed a tiny shade from the deadly pale. The doctor exhaled deeply and said in a grim voice: "Thank God, your blood was the right type, he seems to be doing better!" and he got hold of James's wrist to check his pulse.

Pote finally put away the gun that he had been holding ready in his hand.

Teresa had given James almost two full units of blood. The doctor had removed the hose after she had felt dizzy and despite having her had lie down on another makeshift bed, even the pumping had not produced any more flow.

She walked out of the room after having stared at James's face for a while remembering seeing this face annoyed, angry, incredulous, lit by a tiny smile or outright laughing! The memories they had made together flooded her mind and she gently touched his forehead with wet eyes before walking out.

The doctor ordered sweet juice for her and while Pote went to the kitchen to see what fruit was available to fresh squeeze, she lifted James's black leather jacket off the table, where it had been discarded and got out his cigarettes from the inside pocket under the weird looks of both Kelly Anne and George.

"What?" she said to both as they were still staring at her: "Pote's not here to give me one…and I know where James keeps his…" And as neither said anything, she walked out on the balcony and lit one, letting the nicotine spread in her system and caress her uptight nerves. He's back and he's still breathing...that's all that mattered!