“I need help.”
There was movement on the other end, as if Rojas were walking quickly. “Where are you?”
“Highway 103. There’s two wrecks out here. I’m the second one.”
“That’s not good.” Rojas paused. A million questions on his mind, no doubt. Then, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. What kind of injuries?”
“Sergei’s bleeding. There’s a shitload of blood.”
A car door slammed, and an engine turned over. “Where’s the blood coming from? Head? Neck? Anything vital?”
“Hard to see. I don’t want to move him or—”
“Paralysis might be the least of his worries if he’s sprung a big enough leak.”
“Hang on.” Phone in hand, he tugged Sergei’s shoulder as gently as he could and shined the cell phone’s light into the shadows.
Immediately, his heart sank.
Oh, no…
He tucked the phone into his shoulder and felt pressed his hand against the wound. “Doc, it looks like a gunshot.”
“A gun—oh fuck. Where?”
“Chest. Near the middle.”
“He’s going to need a hospital.” On the other end, an engine whined. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, but we’re going to need to put him in my car and get him out of there fast.”
“Should I wait until you’re here to move him?”
Rojas didn’t answer immediately, and if not for the sound of the engine, Dom would’ve though they’d disconnected. Finally, he said, “No. I want to put a C-collar on him. That’ll take a few seconds, and then we can move him to the car. Just keep pressure on that wound until I get there.”
The line went dead.
Dom pulled off his shirt, wadded it up, and pressed it against Sergei’s chest. “Hang in there. The doc’s on his way.”
Sergei groaned.
“Can you hear me?”
Another groan, this time more of an affirmative.
“Doc’s on his way. Just hold as still as you can and stay with me, all right?”
“Y-yeah.”
Dom pushed the shirt against the wound, and Sergei whimpered.
“Fuck,” he ground out. “Should’ve… shot you when I had the chance.”
Dom laughed, more from relief than the comment. Maybe Sergei was more coherent than he thought. “Sense of humor’s still intact. That’s a good sign.”
Sergei groaned. He tried to push Dom’s hand away.
“Leave it,” Dom said. “You’re bleeding.”
“Can’t… breathe.”
“You can talk.” Dom took Sergei’s wrist with his free hand, and gently moved it out of the way. “Help’s coming. Just hang in there. Okay?”
Sergei moaned but didn’t speak.
Dom’s stomach twisted. The truth was becoming less deniable by the second—if Sergei didn’t get help, he was going to die. But 911 would mean paramedics, and paramedics would mean cops. Dom would happily go to jail to save Sergei, but the cops in this town had been known to take people to jail before taking them to a hospital, and he was getting Sergei help or he’d die trying.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, and kissed Sergei’s temple. “You’ve come way too far to lose.”
Dom had no idea how much time passed, but headlights in the shattered rear window made his heart clench.
Please, let it be Rojas…
“Dom?” The doctor’s voice. Thank God.
“In here,” Dom called out. To Sergei, he said, “The doc’s here.”
Sergei moaned again.
Rojas opened the other car door. He had a cervical collar in his hand and quickly put it into place. “This will stabilize his neck. Not much we can do about his back if we want to get him to a hospital in time.”
Dom’s heart flipped. In time? How much time did he have?”
“All right.” Rojas looked at Dom. “Let’s get him into the car. You’re driving.”
“Got it.” Dom carefully slid his arms under Sergei, prompting more moans—more like whimpers—from him. He grimaced. It occurred to him that he had no idea how many other injuries Sergei had. Broken bones? Internal bleeding? More cuts?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Sergei’s ear, and carefully lifted him.
Sergei groaned, and Dom’s heart sank when he realized it was probably meant to be a cry of pain. But the man in his arms was limp and lethargic, his breathing much too shallow.
“Hang in there, damn it. We’re taking you to get help.” Dom carried Sergei out of the ditch where they’d crashed and laid him across the backseat of Rojas’s car. He’d barely let him go before Rojas yanked him out of the way and shoved him toward the driver seat. “Drive! Now!”
Dom didn’t hesitate. The engine was idling, so he got in and put it in gear and didn’t even bother putting on his seatbelt before he peeled out.
“Gonna get rough,” he said.
“Fine, just go! Go!”
Dom drove across the median. The car bounced and nearly got stuck in a grassy spot, but it found its traction and made it onto the pavement.
In the backseat, Rojas said, “This is Dr. Rojas. I’m on my way in with a critical emergency. I need an OR team prepped and ready for—yes, I’m aware you’re busy. This guy’s gonna code if he doesn’t get into surgery soon.”
Shit. Oh, shit.