Relentless (36 page)

A shaky nod answered him.

Nate stepped in beside him. “Ben's outside,” he said, reaching down to help him lift Neveah.

Rhys blocked the other man's hand before it touched her and instantly scooped her up into his lap.

“Let me help,” Nate said reasonably. “You can't lift her and hold her arm.”

Rhys bit back the harsh retort, knowing he was right, but hating the thought of anyone except him touching her when she was so hurt and vulnerable. He allowed Nate to take Neveah's forearm while he adjusted her and lifted her in his arms. His heart twisted hard when she turned her face into his chest with a quiet whimper. To him the sound seemed heartbroken.

“It's all right, little one.” His voice was rough, his whole body pumped and ready for action. He had to battle the urge to run, shortening his strides to match Nate's so he wouldn't lose his grip on Neveah's wounded arm.

Hurrying through the lobby he barely noticed all the people watching with expressions of sympathy, or the police crowding the place. Every one of his senses was focused on the pale, heart-wrenchingly brave woman in his arms.

Outside, the cold air rushed past him. He gathered Neveah closer against his chest to warm her and headed straight for the Escalade where Ben stood ready with the engine running and the back door open.

Rhys climbed in and took her arm again once she was settled in his lap. Nate stepped back and ran around to the other side while Ben slammed the door shut and jumped behind the wheel. The vehicle tore away from the curb and sped onto the damp street while drizzle coated the windshield and ran down the windows like teardrops.

“How's she doing?” Ben asked, glancing back in the rearview.

“Hanging in there,” he answered, cradling her tightly, grateful that St. Paul's Hospital was only a few minutes up the road.

“You check her pulse?”

He checked her carotid pulse, because he hadn't found one in her right wrist. Her radial artery had definitely been sliced. “One-ten.” Too fast.

“How much blood you think she lost?”

He aimed a fulminating glare at his twin. She was still conscious, and she didn't need to hear this right now, even if Ben was a trained special ops medic. Goddamn lot of good it did them right now, since he was behind the wheel. “Save it.”

“Just trying to help.”

“Then fucking drive faster.” Nev was white as flour against his shirt, the delicate veins in her eyelids standing out. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Way deep in shock. Maybe it was for the best though.

A tense silence filled the vehicle as Ben sped south up the hill on Burrard, weaving in and out of traffic. They hit three red lights before the hospital came into view on their right. About fucking time, Rhys thought as they pulled up to the Emergency entrance. Nate jumped out and ran inside while Ben came around and opened up the back door. He reached up to take her arm, his pale green gaze meeting Rhys's.

“I got her,” he said quietly, and after a second's hesitation Rhys let go, trusting his twin to keep her from bleeding out.

He climbed out with Nev and together they took her into the hospital. Inside the staff were already waiting, alerted by the police and Nate. Two nurses rushed over with a stretcher and Rhys laid her down gently, Ben following the movement to maintain pressure over the wound in her arm. His brother's hands and forearms were covered in her blood as he gazed at his watch, calculating her pulse rate.

“Pulse is one-twenty, but I don't know her pressure,” he told them as they moved toward what Rhys sincerely hoped was an operating room. “Has to be low, though.”

“Let's see what we've got,” one of the nurses said, reaching for the arm Ben held.

Rhys darted out a hand but Ben had already blocked her with a thick forearm. “If I let go she's gonna lose another quart of blood,” he said. “So I'm not letting go until she's been stabilized.”

Her annoyed gaze snapped to his. “You need to let me— ”

“I'm a trained Army Ranger medic, and I'm not letting go until you've got something better to get the bleeding under control with and I'm satisfied she's been stabilized.”

The woman divided an irritated glance between them but finally let it go. “This way, then. But you'll have to leave once we get her into the OR.”

Rhys knew without asking his brother would stay with her until she was ready for the surgery. He wouldn't let go of her arm until he was sure it was safe.

Helpless, Rhys could only watch as they wheeled her away, thankful that Ben was with her. Other than his, she couldn't be in better hands, and Ben had more medical experience than he did.

As if sensing his thoughts, his twin looked back at him. “ ‘S okay, man. See you in a few.”
I got this
. The unspoken reassurance filled the space between them.

Rhys nodded, taking one last glance at Neveah before they disappeared through a set of wide double doors. When the door shut, he ran his bloodstained hands over his shorn hair and let out a hard sigh. An awful numbness settled over him. He should have said something to her before they'd taken her away. Should have at least told her he loved her one more time.

“Here.”

He turned his head at Nate's voice.

“Better sit down before you fall down.”

Trying to get hold of his shredded control, he made it the few steps over to the row of plastic chairs set against the wall and all but collapsed into one. The seat creaked and groaned under his weight as he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

“Rhys?”

He opened his eyes when he heard Bryn's voice, and found her coming toward them. Her face was filled with concern.

“Jesus, look at you. Dec and I were at the hotel when we heard... What happened?”

“Not now, hon,” Nate warned.

Bryn glanced between them and then settled beside Rhys. She laid a tentative hand on his knee, and he had to fight not to throw off her gentle touch. He was a hair's breadth away from losing it. But she didn't say anything, merely sat lending her support and maintaining the fragile link between them with the slight weight of her palm.

He closed his eyes again, thinking of how he'd done this same routine with her a few months back. He'd been the one holding her while Dec was in surgery in Basra after the botched op and helicopter crash they'd survived. He'd never dreamed he'd wind up in the same position, scared to death because the person he'd fallen in love with was being prepped for emergency surgery.

He pulled in another slow breath, desperate to hold on. Rage and panic had no place here now. He needed to be calm and clear headed. Nev was going to be fine. Ben was with her, and they'd taken her straight to the OR.

Yet he couldn't keep from thinking about what she must have gone through in the cramped elevator. It tied him in knots. How the hell was she going to cope with this after all she'd gone through already? No one was that strong.

As long as he lived he'd never forget the sight of her lying in all that blood, just as he'd never forget the sight of her crouched in the filthy room he'd pulled her out of in Afghanistan.

A few minutes into their wait, Nate murmured an excuse and left. A few after that Rhys felt in control enough to curl his fingers around Bryn's, the only way he could say thank you. Her steady grip made him feel less alone.

If anyone knew what he felt, she did. Years of friendship made it much easier to have her sitting beside him at a time like this. That's what friends did; they had your back when things got rough. But good as it was to have Bryn's silent support, the person he needed most was in the OR with Neveah.

Ben might be a smart-mouthed punk, but he knew Rhys better than anyone. Knew the way he thought, and intuitively knew what Rhys was feeling. Their bond was irrefutable.

After a few minutes, Bryn spoke. “Maybe you should go clean up a bit.”

Rhys glanced down at himself. His clothes were covered in blood, his arms and hands stained with it. Rusty smears were trapped under his short fingernails. The sight of it made him sick to his stomach. Because it was Nev's.

Sucking in air, he staggered to his feet and stumbled to the men's room as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him. He headed straight for the sink. When he reached for the taps, his fingers trembled. The toilet flushed in the stall behind him. A moment later a sixtyish man came out. He took one look at Rhys and all the blood covering him, and stopped dead. His eyes widened, then met Rhys's in the mirror. Rhys knew he looked like a horror movie, and wasn't surprised the man made a sharp turn and hurried out of the bathroom without washing his hands.

Alone, the numbing shock began to lift. He was breathing way too fast. His nostrils flared on each uneven inhalation. His heart raced.

He was losing it.

Closing his eyes, Rhys leaned his palms on the edge of the stainless steel sink and fought for control, battling the adrenaline crash and the shakes that came with it. The quivers rolled through him like aftershocks of a major earthquake, sharp and debilitating. Thank Christ he was alone so no one would see him this way.

The attack lasted a few minutes, and by the time he'd regained function of his body, a powerful wave of fatigue hit him. Opening his eyes, he raised his head to assess his reflection in the mirror, partially steamed up by the hot water flowing from the tap. His skin was pasty, his pupils constricted, mouth pinched. Streaks of blood covered his neck and the side of his jaw. He washed the blood from his arms and hands, the water turning pink as it swirled down the drain.

All he could think about was Neveah facing Ahmed and that knife, cornered in the damn elevator. Her wounds were all defensive, from fending him off with nothing but her bare hands. His jaw clenched as he splashed water over his face and neck. How the hell was he ever going to look her in the eye after he'd let her down so horribly? She might not be able to perform as a surgeon again, depending on the damage done to her arm.

All because of a fucking
speech
.

No, he corrected, because he'd
let
her give it. And then hadn't put the pieces together in time to prevent the attack.

And God, the psychological trauma... Rhys didn't know if she'd ever be able to get over what had happened. And as far as their relationship went? He didn't have a clue what would happen. She had every right to blame him, and he would understand if she did.

It would kill him, though. Losing her now that he'd finally let her in.

A deep sigh escaped him. He'd heard about having a broken heart, but he'd never experienced it before. The tearing pain was almost more than he could bear.

The door groaned open and Ben walked in. Rhys turned his head and stared at him with haunted eyes, heart thumping against his sternum.

“She's under,” his brother said. He crossed the floor to lean one shoulder against the wall beside the sink and folded his arms across his chest. “All her vitals are stable, and they're infusing her.”

Rhys let his head sag down between his shoulders. God, he'd been so fucking scared she'd been in danger of cardiac arrest.

“Vascular and plastic surgeon are already in there. They figure it'll take a couple of hours, tops.”

He nodded, unable to say a single word.

Ben cocked his head. “Doin’ all right?”

Swallowing, he found his voice. “Yeah.” The word sounded like grinding gears.

“They've got everything under control. She's gonna be fine.”

No she wasn't. She'd never be fine again. How could she be?

He shut off the taps, the bathroom filling with the sound of gurgling water for a moment while it drained in the sink. Then silence enveloped everything. Ben handed him some paper towels to dry his hands and face. No sense trying to wash his clothes, since they were unsalvageable. They'd have to be thrown out. He focused on the task of drying off, unable to look at his twin.

“Before you go all hard-ass on yourself, you gotta know this wasn't your fault.”

The muscles in his shoulders tensed. But it
was
his fault. He'd been assigned to protect her, had sworn to himself he would keep her safe, and he'd failed.

“Jesus, when are you going to realize you're only human— ”

“Do you know how afraid she is of knives?” He could barely get the words out.

A beat passed. “I can imagine.”

Yeah, but he didn't
know
. “She still has nightmares about what Assoud did to her friends. You should have seen her face during the brunch when Shirani was slicing up his roast beef with that goddamn steak knife.” He'd been right there in front of Rhys, and still he hadn't connected the dots.

Her fear had been palpable at the table, even in that innocuous moment. To know Ahmed had used the same damned knife against her just minutes later filled Rhys with a helpless rage. “She's a doctor, Ben. Not only did she have to confront that knife alone, but she had to use it against him. Take a life instead of save it.” He shook his head. “Christ, I don't know how she managed it.”

“Thank God she did.”

He met his brother's eyes. Steady, full of kindness. “She should never have been in danger. If I'd done my job properly it would never have happened.” The nausea started to twist in his stomach again. “I... I can't handle it,” he admitted, voice cracking.

Ben stepped closer and laid a hand on his back. Rhys flinched at the contact but Ben didn't pull away. “Hey. It was
not
your fault. There were plenty of other security personnel in that room and it still happened. You could
not
have stopped it. You're only human, buddy.”

Tears threatened. Rhys clamped his jaw tight and blew out a steadying breath, fingers gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles went white. “I should never have let her do it.”

“You're feeling helpless right now because there's nothing you can do to help her or make it better. I know how you feel because I sat staring at your ugly mug for almost two weeks without being able to do a damn thing to fix you while you were in the coma. But Nev's going to be fine. You'll see her awake in a couple of hours.”

“And what if she can't use her hand again?”