It wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. The guns should have been pointed at Alex and Kevin. In the confusion, no one had shot at her—not even once; she was totally unscathed. Daniel was supposed to be in the background, invisible. There was no reason to waste such a perfect shot on an anonymous aide. That skilled shooter was supposed to be aiming for Alex.
She’d known the plan was deeply flawed, but she had never dreamed she’d walk through the firefight untouched. Daniel was supposed to be the survivor.
A line of nameless faces—gangsters she hadn’t been able to save—flashed through her mind. One had a name—Carlo. He’d died exactly the same way. She hadn’t been able to do anything. What had Joey G said? You win some, you lose some. But how did she live through this loss?
The shrieking part of her was very near the surface. Only shock kept the paroxysm of grief at bay. The frozen pause was endless, crystal clear, with every detail defined. She was aware of the sound of a struggle somewhere very far away from her, and Kevin shouting in his harshest voice, “Where’s your deep perimeter now, Deavers?” She could smell the fetid musk of her ring’s victims and the warm, alive scent of fresh blood. She could hear labored breathing at her back where Carston lay dying.
Then, suddenly, the sound of another shallow, sucking wheeze close beside her bowed head.
Her eyes, which she hadn’t even realized were closed, snapped open. She knew that sound.
Frantically, she ripped the glove from her hand and stretched it tight over the hole in Daniel’s chest. She watched incredulously as the pull of his struggling lung tried to suck air through the latex. She lifted the edge of the glove for the exhale, letting the air vent, and then strained the glove against his skin again for the inhale.
He was breathing.
How? The shot must have somehow missed his heart, though it seemed perfectly placed. She took stock quickly and realized that there wasn’t actually as much blood as she’d first thought. Not enough to suggest a hole in his heart. And he was breathing, which he wouldn’t have been if the bullet had gone true.
She thrust her other hand under his shoulder, searching frantically for an exit wound. Her fingertips found the tear in his jacket, and she shoved them through the hole, then into the hole in his back, trying to seal the airflow. It didn’t feel any bigger than the hole in his chest. The bullet had passed straight through him.
“Kevin!” Her raw shriek held all the panic she was too numb to feel. “I need my toolbox. Now!”
Movement again, but she didn’t look up to see if it was Kevin helping her or a victorious Deavers moving in for the kill. She found she didn’t even care if it was Deavers; she wasn’t afraid of anything he could do to her. Because if Kevin was down and unable to get her the things she needed immediately, Daniel could die in minutes.
She had more of what she needed in the car, but she had no idea how to get Daniel back to the surface.
A metallic crash sounded at her right elbow.
“Ziploc bags,” she instructed frantically. “The bottom compartment, on the left, and tape—should be near the top.”
Kevin laid the things she needed on Daniel’s chest, next to her hand. Quickly, on the exhale, she traded her glove for the plastic bag and instructed Kevin to tape it down tightly on three sides. She didn’t have anything that would work as a valve to vent the excess air, so she had to leave the fourth side open. It should suck against the hole as he inhaled, and then let the air release as he breathed out.
“Roll him toward me, I need to seal the exit wound.”
Kevin carefully moved his unconscious brother onto his side. She hoped the position would take some of the pressure off Daniel’s undamaged lung. She had to break contact with the wound briefly as Kevin moved him, and then another precious second as she used a scalpel to cut his shirt and jacket out of the way. She taped a second plastic bag against his skin while she analyzed the pool of blood beneath him. Not so much, really. The bullet had miraculously missed his heart entirely, and the major vessels as well. The exit wound looked clean and she didn’t see any bone fragments. If she could just keep him breathing, she could get him through the next hour.
Kevin’s voice interrupted her frantic planning. “Carston’s still alive. What do you want me to do with him?”
“Can he be saved?” she asked while she checked Daniel’s airway and pressure. He’d lost too much blood. He was in shock. She could still make out a pulse at his wrist, but it was weak and fading. She grabbed a syringe from the top tray and injected him with ketamine and a separate painkiller.
“Doubt it. Too much damage. He probably only has a few minutes. Oh, um, hey. Sorry, man.”
His voice had changed at the end. He wasn’t speaking to her anymore.