Ghostwalker 09 - Ruthless Game

and he was bleeding out fast—too fast.
    Everything around her faded until she was in that deep tunnel where there were only her hands answering the needs of a critical y injured human being.
    Already the energy was surging through her. Her fingertips tingled and burned. She plunged her hands into his body, unerringly finding the artery. She grasped it between her fingers, slipped on al the blood, and had to fish again. The artery felt like a noodle, or worse, a squid. She wasn’t squeamish unless she al owed herself to think about failing.
    “What the hel are you doing?” a voice demanded.
    “Don’t distract her.”
    That had to be the master gunnery sergeant. She could tel by his voice. It sounded as if from a great distance, but she was aware of al them on some level.
    She could hear sounds. Harsh breathing. The blades of the helicopter. The rustle as one of the men fed plasma through an IV, holding the vein open for life-saving blood, if she could just do this. If. There it was. Oh, God, she had it.
    Live, Kane. Don’t leave us alone.
    She felt the ends and pushed them together, closing her eyes, taking a slow, deep breath and breathing down, through her body, sending the healing heat, that scorching-hot heat through her veins and out the fingers of her hands. She had to fuse the ends together, but it was delicate work to keep the blood flowing through while she held the severed ends with heat.
    The intense burn took her breath away, but she held on. For a moment everything went dark, and there were only stars and a fading sensation. Her stomach lurched. She became aware of the blood al over her clothes, of her hands inside Kane. The blood was up to her elbows. She couldn’t fix the rest of the damage done to his organs, but they had a chance of keeping him alive until the surgeon took over, if she could hold on.
    “Hurry. Use me for the transfusion. Whitney always gave pairs compatible blood.” Now it was her own voice that came from far away, or maybe from a deep, deep hole. “Have your surgeon meet us. And for God’s sake, hurry. He has to be set up for the operation wherever we land. Can you do that?”
    “The doc wil be there.”
    She turned her head tiredly, and her eyes met a pair of cold black eyes surrounded by ridiculously long lashes.
    “Who has my baby?”
    “I’ve got him, ma’am,” another voice said. “Name’s Ethan Myers. You must be Rose.”
    She was too tired to state the obvious or even look. The knife slowly disappeared from her throat. Only then did she feel the slight sting. The threat had been al too real. She did manage to look up at him from over her shoulder, and her heart dropped. She recognized the one cal ed Javier. Death stared back at her. There was no expression on that face.
    “Rose,” the man with the black eyes spoke her name gently, the man they referred to as Top. “Javier is going to support your back while we make our run. Can you hold on?”
    “Yes.” Because there was no other choice. None. If she didn’t, Kane was dead.
    “I’m putting in the needle. You’re going to feel it. I’m Mack McKinley, by the way.”
    “Just do it. Are you certain the baby’s al right?”
    Ethan answered, “He’s fine. He looks very aware. He keeps turning his head toward the sound of your voice.”
    The smel of the blood made her want to gag. It felt like she was bathing in the stuff. She was going to have nightmares for the rest of her life, but it was Kane’s blood, and she wasn’t losing him.
    Do you hear me? I won’t lose you. She heard the smal internal sob and hoped she hadn’t lost control in front of the others. Not now, not when we’re so close. Hang on, Kane. Just a little longer. Fight for us. Fight for me.
    Her body trembled now as the helicopter dipped and bumped, flying fast over the desert. She could feel the heat draining from her body and flowing into Kane’s. She was certain she was sitting upright until she felt Javier’s arm suddenly slide around her waist and ease her back against his chest. She thought rather fuzzily that he was far stronger than he looked. In the distance, Mack McKinley, the one they cal ed Top, was barking orders into his radio.
    She shivered, cold creeping into her bones. Javier rubbed her shoulders.
    “Hold him a little longer. Don’t let go.”
    No, she couldn’t let go of him, because her fragile repair would burst, and Kane would bleed out before they could get him to the surgeon.
    She was vaguely aware of