Page 68 of Tormented Hearts

He didn’t even have time to think, only react. He shoved her hard, throwing her out of the line of fire half a second before the shot cracked through the air. The sound bounced off several planes of rock, making it impossible to pin the shooter’s location by sound alone.

Fire ripped through his side.

He hit the dirt, breath punched out of him. The world narrowed to a white-hot pain through his side. Not his ass this time, at least.

He clamped his hand over it and felt wet heat already soaking through his shirt.

No time to feel it yet. Feeling it came later.

If there was a later.

He forced his mind to focus past the pain. He’d trained for this a hundred times over—watched his brothers-in-arms take hits and keep fighting until their bodies caught up to their minds.

From his position on the ground, he glanced at Sinead. “Stay down,” he growled.

Another scan of the trees revealed two shooters in black clothing and masks. The way they moved, with military precision, told him they were mercs.

“Hawk!” she hissed in response, but he was already rolling, drawing his weapon.

His side screamed as he shifted onto one knee and returned fire. Pain was information, not an order. Right now it was telling him the bullet had gone clean through, and it hadn’t hit anything that would stop him from moving.

Another shot exploded rock a good ten feet away from the entrance. Not only did these guys find the worst cover, they were bad shots.

Hawk, however, was not.

He put both of them down in seconds. He barely registered the act until the silence afterward rang out loud, broken only by wind and his own ragged breathing.

Then the adrenaline receded enough to let the pain seep back in. He sagged, one hand pressed hard to his side. Blood trickled warm and slow between his fingers.

“Hawk!” Sinead started to scramble toward him, but he waved her back down.

“There could be more,” he grated out.

Her eyes were wide with horror, and her hands hovered in the air as if she could reach out and help him from several feet away.

Minutes passed. He continued to scour the trees, throwing out his hearing. While the forest was silent after gunfire, there was no rustle of footsteps or the crunch of twigs.

Sinead made a quiet noise in her throat, and he held her stare for a heavy beat. Finally, after long minutes of waiting for another wave of attacks, none came.

He gave a nod that the coast was clear.

Sinead crawled over to him. Panic cracked in her voice. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You’re bleeding! You’re really bleeding—”

“Hey.” He caught her wrist with his free hand, steadying her more than himself. “Hey, look at me. I know it’s a lot of blood. Wounds like this always look worse than they are. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of guys walk away from more blood loss than this.”

Her deep brown eyes were filling with tears as fast as the blood was pumping out of his side. “I’ve seen blood before too, Hawk. I’m not—” Her voice broke again and she steeled it. “I’m not fragile. I’m just—” Her hands shook as she tried to press against the wound, her fingers fumbling against fabric already soaked through.

His throat burned with the need to say anything that could comfort her. He wanted to pull her against his chest and tell her it was okay, but he could see that she was undone at the sight of his blood and nothing he said could stop her from breaking.

“The mine floor’s a mess too,” he tried for a lighter tone, resorting to the teasing that brought her back from the edge before. “I’ll figure out a way to clean it up before we—”

Anger twisted her lips. “I don’t give a fuck about the mine!” Tears streamed down her face, leaving tracks in the dust clinging to her cheeks. “I could have it bulldozed and walk away tomorrow, Hawk. I only care about you bleeding out on a mountain because you threw yourself in front of a bullet meant for me.”

She was shaking so bad. His capable, competent Sinead. The woman who negotiated boardrooms, hiked mountains without complaining of blisters and decoded a dead man’s handwriting by firelight without blinking…was unraveling in front of him.

Watching her fall apart hurt worse than the bullet wound currently on fire in his side.

He gathered her against his good side, ignoring the wrench of pain when her weight pressed into him. “I’m okay. I’m right here. If a snake didn’t take me out, this won’t either. And you’re strong. You shot a lion and refused to let your guide die. I need you to hold it together for me the way you did for him.”