Guarding Gaby Read online

  And everything came roaring back, the danger, the—

  He bolted to sitting, and his vision grayed.

  “Easy, now. You’re still losing blood.”

  He shoved to standing and nearly fell back down as his ankle gave way.

  “Whoa—” She slipped under his good arm and steadied him.

  He tried to focus on his surroundings. They were in the cave. He glanced down at her. “You remembered.”

  She smiled. “I told you I would come after you.” Then her face clouded. “I was so afraid. Chad came by, just as I was about to leave. He’s determined to capture you, Eli, more now than ever. He says you shot one of his men.” Her brows snapped together. “He neglected to mention that you were hurt, too.”

  “I hope no one knows.” He felt light-headed, but he forced himself to focus. “What the hell are you doing out here? This is no game, Gaby. These men are dangerous. You need to get away from here—now.”

  She went rigid against him. “And exactly how do you plan to take care of yourself? You’re bleeding, and your ankle is hurt, isn’t it? How will you manage on your own?”

  “Same way I have for years. I don’t need you.”

  He saw the hurt in her eyes. He had no choice but to ignore it.

  But she surprised him. “Oh, yeah?” She stepped away. Saw him wobble. Lit with triumph when he winced and was forced to steady himself against the cave wall. “Well, I say you’re wrong.” She glanced away. “You may not want to need my help—” Her gaze whipped back. “—but you do, at least for now.” Then her chin got that stubborn jut he recalled all too well from the hospital all those years ago. “So why don’t you quit being macho and sit down before you fall down.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’ve got a head like a mule?”

  Humor sparked in her gaze. “Dozens.”

  She’d been a remarkable girl.

  She’d become a magnificent woman.

  Her expression turned serious. “The crease the bullet carved is deep. I know next to nothing about gunshot wounds, but I’d guess it needs sewing up, and I don’t have supplies to do it with. I need to get you to a doctor.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I can’t leave here, not now. And I damn sure won’t endanger you by being seen with you.”

  “That’s insane. You could die if I don’t find help for you.”

  “You know there’s no doctor within a hundred miles. I’m prepared, Gaby. In the places I’ve traveled, you have to be.” He grabbed her hand. “There’s a small med kit with a needle and sutures in my tactical vest. Middle right pocket.”

  She went dead white. “I—” Her voice cracked. “Okay.” She glanced away, blinking hard.

  He saw the cost to her. His last recollection was nearing the cave, not making it inside. This woman was practically half his size, but somehow, in the dark, she’d been resourceful enough to maneuver him in here. Best he knew, she had no medical training and no experience with violence. In a matter of days, she’d lost a father and been forced to face both a past filled with misery and a future that was uncertain.

  His head was getting lighter by the second, dehydration, most likely, from loss of blood, but he held on. “I need you to be safe, Gaby. That means as far away from here as possible. You should leave, the sooner the better, but—”

  One eyebrow lifted. “But?”

  He managed a glance at the bandaging on his arm even as the darkness encroached. “But I’m about to pass out, so I guess you’ll have to wait—” He started sliding down the wall.

  “Eli!” She leaped toward him. “What do I do?”

  He held on, just barely. “Water,” he croaked. “Need…fluids.”

  And everything went black again.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she muttered. “So you cannot die, you hear me? Not until I get a chance, you blockheaded jerk.” Gaby checked the bandage again, relieved that the bleeding seemed to have slowed, and lifted Eli’s head again.

  Water, he’d said. When she’d tried to give Eli a drink from the canteen, he wouldn’t swallow. The liquids had backed up and spilled over. She’d been scared to death he’d choke.

  Then she’d remembered a romance novel she’d read once at Beth’s behest and silently blessed the author. She’d never wanted to admit how much she’d loved reading the book or how many more she’d devoured. She’d have gotten endless ribbing from her colleagues if they knew.

  But she was grateful now for more than the hours of escape she’d enjoyed. The heroine of that story had fed the unconscious hero needed medication by taking it in her own mouth, then transferring it to his. Gaby had tried it with Eli and discovered that she could control the amount better. After some trial and error, she’d found a routine that worked. It wasn’t nearly enough, but until she could revive him, this was the best she could think to do.

  Where was a good IV when you needed it? A competent medical staff? She’d never felt so helpless in her life.

  Time for another drink. She sipped water from his canteen, then bent and opened his mouth, massaged his throat and slowly fed the liquid to him.

  His skin was hot, like he was developing a fever. She needed him to wake up.

  She cast a glance at the very basic medical kit from his vest. Like she was poking at a rattler, she trailed one finger over the plastic pack containing the needle, suturing thread, one pair of latex gloves and two alcohol pads.

  With no anesthesia, he’d feel every stitch. She had no idea how he’d come to be provisioned with what seemed to be military paraphernalia, but there was a great deal she no longer knew about Eli Wolverton.

  She was almost certain, however, that it would be a mercy to sew him up while he was unconscious, if only she could make herself do it. Given that the furrow extended around the back of his arm, no way could he reach it himself.

  She was terrified. But this was no time for cowards.

  Okay. All right. Gingerly, she removed the gloves. These were hardly sterile circumstances, and she certainly had no means to disinfect her hands, so the gloves would be essential.

  She set up a makeshift surgical tray and had a semi-hysterical thought that she wished to heaven she’d paid more attention when watching those medical shows on TV. She drew out a clean towel from the supplies she’d brought and placed it under his arm. She drew the lantern closer, then she took a deep breath and began to unroll the bandages.

  The blood was only seeping now. She used some of the precious water first to clean the worst of the blood around it. She would save the antiseptic pad until she was ready to stitch—or should she use it afterward? If only she dared to wait to boil water, but she hadn’t brought enough for that and to feed him, too.

  So much she didn’t know and so few options.

  And she was so very tired.

  But I’m all you’ve got, Eli, and you will not die on me.

  Promise me, she sent a prayer to the heavens.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Okay. She’d stitch his arm first, then she’d start figuring how to get him to a doctor with tons of antibiotics soon.

  With shaking fingers, she managed to thread the needle, being extra careful not to let the thread touch anything else.

  Then, with a deep breath, she began.

  Human skin was surprisingly tough, she discovered. She’d never imagined having to push the needle hard, and the little pop she felt nearly did her in. She swallowed back the nausea and tried to forget this was skin she was piercing, much less the flesh of someone she—

  No. She didn’t know Eli anymore. She couldn’t love him.

  But the girl she’d once been most definitely had loved the boy.

  He shifted on the sleeping bag and moaned softly. To keep going required everything she had. Only the certainty that this would be far worse for him if he awoke pushed her forward.

  Pretend it’s the altar cloths Mama tried to teach you to embroider.

  She nearly smiled at t
hat, remembering how often she’d gotten out of seamstress duty by wheedling Papa into telling Mama that he needed her help outside.

  For once, the thought of her father was filled with more fondness than bitter regret.

  Eli began to roll away from her, and Gaby had to hustle. Without the ability to use her hands, she had to improvise: she rose on one knee and used the other to restrain his motion. Doing so took every last ounce of strength she had, but there was one bonus.

  She had no time to think about anything but getting the second half of the stitches done.

  He jerked violently.

  Heart racing, she pressed her knee into his chest.

  Eli bolted upright with a roar. Gaby fell back on her rear, and barely saved her makeshift surgical tray—

  But she had to catch herself with one hand.

  Getting dirt on one precious, irreplaceable glove.

  Eli’s head was going to burst, his arm hurt like fire, and he wasn’t altogether certain he wasn’t going to throw up. “What in blazes are you doing?”

  But it wasn’t hard to guess. Gaby glared at him while she guarded a towel like the crown jewels. She wore latex gloves, and she was pale as milk. He glanced at his arm, with its needle and thread hanging, and he couldn’t believe what he saw.

  “You did it. You sutured the wound.” With very neat, if not surgically knotted, stitches.

  “Only half,” she shot back. “And now you’ve made me dirty one of my gloves.”

  “I made you?” He glanced down. “It hurts like hell.”

  “Your precious kit doesn’t extend to anesthesia. If you’d stayed asleep, it wouldn’t hurt so much. Now I’m going to have to do the rest with you wide awake. Do you know how awful it was to stick a needle into your skin?”

  She burst into tears.

  Even through his muzzy head, Eli understood enough to realize how hard this must have been for her. Gaby had always been so tenderhearted she couldn’t even kill a fly. Somehow, she’d summoned the strength not only to track him down in the dark and to drag someone who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds all the way into the cave, but then deal with him passing out and still summon the courage to attempt to stitch him up. He knew from his own experience how unnerving it was the first time you had to stab a needle into skin.

  “Come here,” he said, and gathered her into his arms, even though lifting the right one hurt like hell. “You were the bravest girl I ever met.” He brushed his cheek over her hair. “I see that the woman has even more courage than the girl.”

  “I’m not,” she blubbered. “I thought I would toss my cookies.”

  He smiled. “I’ve had to sew a wound once. I have an idea how rough it was for you. I can’t imagine how you managed to get me in here or how you found me in the dark. I’d like to tan your hide for the risks you took.” He leaned back so he could see her. “But I’m too damn grateful.”

  She looked at him then like the Gaby of old, her dark eyes wide and shining. “I was scared to death that I’d killed you—” Suddenly she drew back. “You’re awake now.”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  She grabbed the canteen and thrust it at him. “Drink. A lot. I couldn’t get enough into you before.”

  He registered his intense thirst, and not to drain the canteen required everything he had.

  “Drink it all. I brought more.”

  He paused with the spout near his lips. “You are just full of surprises.” Obediently, he swallowed the rest.

  Then he glanced at her. “It’s hard, pouring water down someone who’s conked out, isn’t it.”

  “Impossible. You were wasting every drop.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So what did you do?”

  Gaby blushed. Even by lantern light, her heightened color was obvious.

  “What did you do, Gaby?”

  She glanced away. “I…fed it to you.”

  “Fed?”

  “From—from my…lips.”

  He stared at her in amazement. And, to his great surprise, considering his lousy condition, found himself viciously aroused. He focused on the lips in question and closed his eyes. Barely, just barely, he could register the memory of how they’d felt.

  Then, despite the burn in his arm and the fuzziness in his head, Eli locked his gaze on hers and leaned close.

  He heard her intake of breath, and he smiled.

  “I—I need to finish up,” she stammered.

  Kiss me, he nearly said. Or I just might die.

  But he reminded himself that returning to New York would be her wisest course, and even a single kiss would make sending her away so much harder.

  He sat back. “You’re right.” He struggled to clear his head. “Let’s get finished.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m scared to death I’ve infected you already, and—” she held up the one dirty glove. “I’m down to one glove and one antiseptic pad. I don’t have any way to clean without waiting to boil water, and you’ve already lost too much blood. I’ll have to return to the house and get some alcohol and—” She started to get up.

  “There’s a more extensive medical kit in that waterproof bag,” he said. “Including extra alcohol pads, some disposable syringes, two vials of antibiotics plus two weeks’ worth of oral doses.”

  “Really?” She frowned. “How did you learn all this? Where have you been all these years?”

  “Long story. Get the pack, and I’ll tell you what I can while you’re working.”

  “Eli,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I—”

  “What?”

  She set her jaw. “If we both survive this, don’t you ever get hurt this far from a hospital again, do you hear me?”

  She looked so disgruntled and so damn beautiful, he couldn’t stifle his chuckle.

  “That’s one promise, sweetheart, that I will be only too glad to make.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Somehow they both survived the cleansing of the wound and the rest of the stitching. Gaby had to bite her lip to keep from crying, but Eli only sucked in a harsh breath now and again, though she saw his fingers clench and his face go sheet white.

  He was brave, but she already understood that. His courage had never been in question.

  Now all she had to do was to stab him one more time, and she was done. He filled the syringe himself, which was good because her hands were shaking.

  He turned to her. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

  She shook her head.

  “It can be done in the arm, but I can’t manage, and there’s a risk of hitting bone or blood vessels. The better spot is someplace I’d prefer to be showing you under different circumstances.” His blue eyes, damn him, were sparkling with humor as he gave her the syringe and reached for his belt buckle.

  Torn by twin urges to cry and laugh, she met his gaze and, for his sake, mustered the strength for a smile. He had to be hurting badly. If he could find humor, then so would she.

  “Somehow, in all the times I imagined baring your body, it was never in this context, either.” She stared at his well-muscled back and how it curved into his very fine behind.

  Eli made an odd noise, and she glanced up.

  To see his eyes light with something very different.

  Raw hunger.

  Instantly, the powerful attraction between them roared to life, heightened by the knowledge that they were no longer kids but consenting adults, and sharpened by the danger around them and the deep and silent night. The awareness that they were alone where no one would find them.

  Just as they would have been on that last, fateful evening.

  “I swear I would rise from my grave to have you.” Eli’s voice was low and smoky, even as he shook his head. “No matter how sure I am that I should walk away.”

  Her hand rose to touch his face. The presence of the syringe in her fingers snapped her back to reality. “You’re hurt.”

  He held her gaze a
few seconds longer, then turned away. “Of course,” he said dully. “Go ahead.”

  “Eli, I—”

  “Do it, Gaby.”

  There was much they needed to clear up between them, but first, he had to survive. She inhaled deeply to settle her nerves. To steady her hands.

  “Either pinch the flesh between your other thumb and forefinger or use them to stretch the skin taut, then slide the needle in straight.”

  “I don’t—” Oh, mercy.

  “Gaby, now.” Then his voice gentled. “Please. I know it’s hard. Just position it, and I’ll help you.” He twisted at the waist, and she saw the strain on him. Realized that his color was bad, that the night had taken a big toll.

  “No.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll handle it.”

  “That courageous girl grew into one hell of a woman.”

  His eyes were kind, and she understood in that moment that whatever had happened in the past, a part of her would always belong to Eli Wolverton.

  “I’m not the brave one,” she said, smiling. Then she bent to her task. When at last it was over, she laid the syringe aside carefully, removed the gloves and rose. “I’ll be right back.”

  Then she escaped before she fell apart in front of him.

  Eli sank back to the sleeping bag, his entire body screaming for rest. The wound burned, his ankle throbbed and his head was pounding. He understood probably better than Gaby did that he was far from out of danger, but somehow he had to get her to leave him behind and return to the house. Then to go to New York before Chad got wind that she was with him. Bill Anderson had been cunning and cruel. How much of the father lived in the son, Eli didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to gamble with Gaby’s life.

  But how to convince a smart and courageous woman to abandon you and save herself? For one of the few times since he’d known her, Eli wished Gaby weren’t so blasted intelligent. And stubborn.

  He was puzzling over the dilemma when it dawned on him that she’d been gone too long for his comfort. He didn’t think he’d been followed. He’d seen no signs that the smugglers had night vision goggles—probably because this operation had been in place, undisturbed, for so long. But he and Gaby were not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. He sat up, frowning as he tried to clear his head, then looked around for something to use as a crutch. He wouldn’t be much protection for Gaby if all he could do was crawl to her side.