Page 11 of Shadow Strike
He’d alerted Mack on the way, and Mack met him at the rear entrance.“Vivi’s set up in the med bay.”
Garrett came jogging up, yawning.“What happened?”
CB filled him in as he hustled to the medical station with Regan in his arms.Once there, Vivi directed him to an exam table.
CB set her down and repeated the important facts.A crease appeared between Vivi’s brows, and she shooed him out of the way.Reluctantly, he stepped back and let her work, positioning himself just inside the glass doors with Garrett and Mack.
Garrett kept his voice low as he fired questions at him; CB answered, not taking his eyes off Regan.
Vivi checked her vitals, starting with her blood pressure and pulse.She shone a penlight in each of her eyes.“BP is low,” she said, not looking up.“Skin’s sallow.When did she last eat?”
“Don’t know.”
Vivi clucked her tongue.She tilted Regan’s chin, examined the bruising at her throat.“Bruising is superficial — deep tissue, but nothing structural.”She straightened, pulled about an inch of Regan’s forearm skin up and let it snap back.It didn’t snap, though.“She’s dehydrated, her blood sugar is low, and her neck is going to be sore.She needs an IV, food, and rest.She does not appear to have a concussion.”
He deflated with relief.“Thank God.”
“I still want to take her to the ER.”
“No.”
Vivi stopped fussing with Regan and glared at him.“CB.”
“If she’s not critically hurt, she stays here.She’s safe here.She’s not safe at an ER.They’ll take her for tests, and I won’t be able to stay with her.She’ll be vulnerable.”
A beat.Vivi looked at Regan, then back at him.
“Her throat,” she said.“I want it checked properly if there’s any swelling in the next few hours.”
“I’ll stay here and watch for it.”
“You’ll watch for swelling?”
“Yes.”
Another beat.Vivi reached for the IV kit and pulled on nitrile gloves.“Fine.But if anything changes?—”
“I’ll call you immediately.”
She worked in silence after that, finding the vein on the first try.CB watched Regan’s face while she worked.Still.The bruise along her throat was going to be ugly.
“I’ll start the official paperwork,” Garrett said.“Like it or not, the Hills need our protection.”
“Her mom’s alone at home,” CB said.“We need eyes on her.”
“I’ll go,” Mack said.“You stay here.”
CB didn’t argue.Mack and Garrett left, good men, both of them.
Thirty seconds.
If Sanchez hadn’t pulled into the food stand lot right as CB was about to leave, CB would have been driving to the bar’s parking lot when Regan came out the back door.
Thirty seconds.Maybe less.
Ricardo Sanchez had been with the Sheriff’s Department for years.Three years ahead of CB in school, he and Denny Crue had run together since they were fifteen—same crowd, same campground summers, same orbit as CB.
When Sanchez had pulled in, blocking CB from leaving, CB’s instincts had flared red.
