to get to a hospital.”
“No. Just patch it up.”
“Patch it up? A bruise or a nick on the hand is one thing. But this?”
“Seriously, I’ve had worse. Just help me up to the house.”
His face began to pale. Shock was beginning to set in. There had been countless times he’d got injured over the years. It came with the territory.
* * *
A s they stumbled into the kitchen, Jason cleared the table with one swipe and they carefully laid Jack on his front, peeling off his leather jacket. It looked bad. Blood had soaked through his shirt, covering most of his back.
“Get me a warm towel from the washroom,” Dana ordered.
Jason dashed off upstairs while Dana filled a large bowl with some warm water.
“Shoot.”
In the entire ruckus, Jack had forgotten that Apollo was still inside his room.
“I need to get Apollo,” he said, trying to get up.
“You need to stay put. Jason will handle that.”
As she cut away his shirt with scissors, she could see one open stab wound. She washed the wound to get a better look at it. Fortunately, it didn’t appear to be too deep; maybe an inch at the most. While this was still shocking, it didn’t come close to what else she was observing. All across his back were large scars. The skin almost resembled a dry lakebed with the sheer number of lines. Jason returned with the towels. He ground to a halt. The look on his face at the sight of Jack’s back matched her own. Neither one said anything.
Jason used the towels to clean up the blood, and they wrapped the other around him. She knew it was critical to keep a person warm when they went into shock. This was one of the few things Matt had taught her after several of his men had experienced unusual accidents. Tending to his wounds, she thought back to the many times she’d patched up Matt’s co-workers. Whenever she asked why they couldn’t go to the hospital, he always gave the reason that it was too packed, medical bills cost too much, and, well, he would get this look in his eye. It was the same one she had seen many a time. One that made it clear that anything to do with his line of business or activities outside of work wasn’t up for discussion.
“Do you have a handheld mirror?”
“Yeah, um…Jason, in the drawer over there.”
Jason retrieved it, and she handed it to Jack.
Awkwardly he held the mirror behind him and glanced over, trying to get a better look at the wound before handing it back to her. Dana shot him a curious look.
“Don’t tell me that in addition to being a antiques collector, you’re a medic as well as a fighter?”
He handed it back. “Not exactly. But I know what a serious knife wound looks like and what’s just a flesh wound.”
“A flesh wound?” Jason stifled a laugh. “Look at the amount of blood on your shirt.”
“I have thin blood.”
“Flesh wound or not, we need to stop the bleeding.”
Dana set the bowl on the table and retrieved clean dressings from the cupboard. She applied pressure on the two wounds and taped up three sides.
“There. That should do until we get to the hospital.”
“No hospital. I need you to stich it up.”
Her eyebrows rose at the very suggestion. She paused for a moment, contemplating the question alongside every one she wanted to ask, but instead she turned to Jason.
“There’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer, and some surgical stitching in a box underneath my bed.”
Jason nodded and dashed off to collect the items. Dana moved to the sink to wash her hands before pulling a bottle of rye whiskey from the refrigerator. When Jason returned, she told him to head off to bed. It was close to eleven at night, and while he didn’t have school the next day, she thought he’d seen enough gore for one evening.
She poured herself a glass to steady her hands, and gave the rest of the bottle to Jack. As she worked the thread through his skin she noted that he barely winced; either the alcohol was doing its job, or he was used to
“No. Just patch it up.”
“Patch it up? A bruise or a nick on the hand is one thing. But this?”
“Seriously, I’ve had worse. Just help me up to the house.”
His face began to pale. Shock was beginning to set in. There had been countless times he’d got injured over the years. It came with the territory.
* * *
A s they stumbled into the kitchen, Jason cleared the table with one swipe and they carefully laid Jack on his front, peeling off his leather jacket. It looked bad. Blood had soaked through his shirt, covering most of his back.
“Get me a warm towel from the washroom,” Dana ordered.
Jason dashed off upstairs while Dana filled a large bowl with some warm water.
“Shoot.”
In the entire ruckus, Jack had forgotten that Apollo was still inside his room.
“I need to get Apollo,” he said, trying to get up.
“You need to stay put. Jason will handle that.”
As she cut away his shirt with scissors, she could see one open stab wound. She washed the wound to get a better look at it. Fortunately, it didn’t appear to be too deep; maybe an inch at the most. While this was still shocking, it didn’t come close to what else she was observing. All across his back were large scars. The skin almost resembled a dry lakebed with the sheer number of lines. Jason returned with the towels. He ground to a halt. The look on his face at the sight of Jack’s back matched her own. Neither one said anything.
Jason used the towels to clean up the blood, and they wrapped the other around him. She knew it was critical to keep a person warm when they went into shock. This was one of the few things Matt had taught her after several of his men had experienced unusual accidents. Tending to his wounds, she thought back to the many times she’d patched up Matt’s co-workers. Whenever she asked why they couldn’t go to the hospital, he always gave the reason that it was too packed, medical bills cost too much, and, well, he would get this look in his eye. It was the same one she had seen many a time. One that made it clear that anything to do with his line of business or activities outside of work wasn’t up for discussion.
“Do you have a handheld mirror?”
“Yeah, um…Jason, in the drawer over there.”
Jason retrieved it, and she handed it to Jack.
Awkwardly he held the mirror behind him and glanced over, trying to get a better look at the wound before handing it back to her. Dana shot him a curious look.
“Don’t tell me that in addition to being a antiques collector, you’re a medic as well as a fighter?”
He handed it back. “Not exactly. But I know what a serious knife wound looks like and what’s just a flesh wound.”
“A flesh wound?” Jason stifled a laugh. “Look at the amount of blood on your shirt.”
“I have thin blood.”
“Flesh wound or not, we need to stop the bleeding.”
Dana set the bowl on the table and retrieved clean dressings from the cupboard. She applied pressure on the two wounds and taped up three sides.
“There. That should do until we get to the hospital.”
“No hospital. I need you to stich it up.”
Her eyebrows rose at the very suggestion. She paused for a moment, contemplating the question alongside every one she wanted to ask, but instead she turned to Jason.
“There’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer, and some surgical stitching in a box underneath my bed.”
Jason nodded and dashed off to collect the items. Dana moved to the sink to wash her hands before pulling a bottle of rye whiskey from the refrigerator. When Jason returned, she told him to head off to bed. It was close to eleven at night, and while he didn’t have school the next day, she thought he’d seen enough gore for one evening.
She poured herself a glass to steady her hands, and gave the rest of the bottle to Jack. As she worked the thread through his skin she noted that he barely winced; either the alcohol was doing its job, or he was used to
Similar Books
