Page 27 of Flint’s Strike

It ain’t clean or shallow, but she isn’t in danger of bleeding out, thank fuck.

“This is gonna sting.” Tearing the antiseptic pad open, I press it to her leg, my gaze locked on her face. An inch higher and she might have bled out before we found her. Given the look in her eyes, I think she knows it.

She jerks once, then hisses out a slow, measured breath. “I better get a lollipop after this.”

There she is. Even if her color hasn’t come back and her hands are still shaking, Parker’s still with us. “I’ll get you a whole bag if you can tell us what happened.”

“Unlimited snacks,” Nate interjects. “For life.”

What little color had returned to her cheeks drains away. She balls her hands into fists, but that doesn’t stop the tremors. “Floor gave out in the foreman’s office. And the lock jammed. Had to take it apart.”

Fuck. I walked right by and didn’t check the floor. Or the lock.

I can’t look at her—can’t see the aftermath of what she just went through—and put my hands back on her skin. She got hurt because I didn’t do my job. Because I failed. Again. So I keep my gaze on the wound and what needs to be done to stabilize her.

Hardison swears under his breath. “Parker⁠—”

“I’m fine, Nate. Leave it alone.”

Four Steri-strips are enough to hold the gash closed for now. I press each one in place carefully, trying to ignore whatever silent argument is happening between the two Rangers.

Unwrapping an adhesive pad, I smooth it over her thigh. “This is only a basic field dressing. You need to go to Urgent Care. They’ll be able to tell you if you need stitches. Or a tetanus shot.”

“Come on, Captain Collateral Damage. Let’s get gone.” Nate offers Parker his hand.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t finish documenting the scene. You need to walk the perimeter. Talk to the other businesses on this block. See if anyone has cameras. Flint can take me.”

The first aid kit lands back in the duffel with a thud. “You…want me…”

“Parker—” He hasn’t moved from her side, but Nate’s shoulders ease a fraction. “You need to get that leg looked at.”

“I will.” She doesn’t raise her voice. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t back down either. “Eliot drove us here. Pretty sure he’s capable of finding the nearest Urgent Care.”

Hardison drags a hand over the back of his neck. “Fine. But if Eliot tells me you tried to talk your way out of seeing a doctor, we’re going to have a problem.”

A hint of a smile tugs at her mouth. “You promised unlimited snacks. No take-backsies.”

Nate snorts, then points at me. “Make sure she goes. Do not drop her off and run for the hills.”

I raise a brow. “She’s armed. I don’t have a death wish.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Parker rolls her eyes at her partner. “Are you done?”

“Not even close,” Nate says. “You’re getting checked out and you’re calling me afterward.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Parker.” The warning in his voice earns another twitch of her lips. It isn’t much, but he seems satisfied. “Call if you need anything.”

She huffs. “I won’t.”

“That’s what worries me.” He snags his hard hat and respirator from the bed of my truck. “Anything I should look for inside?”

“The suppressor panel.” I unzip the Tyvek and work it off my shoulders with a wince. “See if there are any prints on it. Posted zone map showed six heads covering the southeast quadrant. Four were working, the other two were capped off. I can’t tell if they weren’t installed or if this was a recent change. But the system was running thirty percent below design spec for the zone where the fire started.”

Hardison gives me the side-eye. “And that means…?”