“Can’t go to hospital,” she said hoarsely. “He’ll find me.”
Sam’s brow crinkled and he stared down at her face pressed so firmly against his chest.
“Who, Sophie? Who’ll find you?”
“My father’s—his men,” she corrected.
As what-the-fuck statements went, that was a doozy. Sam stared down as her eyelids fluttered shut once more. He wanted to beat his head in frustration, and then he immediately felt guilty when he remembered that the woman in his arms had obviously had a pretty shitty day—or week for that matter.
“Sophie.” He waited for a response. “Sophie,” he said a little louder. “Honey, wake up. I need you to talk to me here.”
She moaned and dug her face into his chest, a gesture that told him more than words that she wanted him to shut up and go away.
This was making him crazy. Van would be back any second with medicine and whatever else he’d managed to dig up. Going with that thought, Sam checked the covers to make sure she was shielded from any prying eyes. Not that Van was an ass**le, but hello, a half-naked woman would draw any red-blooded man’s eyes. Wouldn’t matter if she was dead.
He sighed when she went limp again. Goddamn it. This was not his day, his week or even his month. Had he really been thinking just an hour ago that he missed her? It was almost as if he’d conjured her up, and while he’d had plenty of fantasies about her being in his bed again, this damn sure wasn’t what he had in mind.
Donovan knocked once, then without waiting for an answer, stuck his head through the door. Seeing Sam and Sophie, he came on in, a med kit in one hand and a syringe with a capped needle in the other.
“What the hell is that?” Sam demanded when Donovan came closer to the bed.
“Antibiotics. Got it out of the field kit.”
“How do you know it’s safe to give it to a pregnant woman?”
“The Internet is a useful thing,” Donovan said calmly. “Amazing what you can find. I don’t even know why people go to doctors anymore.”
“I’m supposed to trust my child’s safety to some web-site you Googled?” Sam asked in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. You got a better idea? I still vote we call Sean and get her the hell to the hospital. And you know I’m right.”
Sam sighed, then gestured for Donovan to come closer with the stuff. He also carried an assortment of bandages and ointments along with a suture kit.
“Whoa, I’m not letting you stitch her up. That’s crazy.”
“So is letting her arm rot off from infection.”
“Damn it, Van. You’re the most infuriating son of a bitch.”
At that Donovan cracked a slight smile. “You and Garrett are so easy, I swear. I think you were both born with corncobs up your ass. I was trained as a medic, remember? I can do all sorts of amazing things. Fly airplanes and choppers, and I can sew limbs back on. They might rot off later, but hey that’s not my problem.”
“Irreverent bastard,” Sam muttered. “You’ve spent too much time around Joe.”
Donovan grinned again. “Joe always was my favorite sibling.”
Sam waved impatiently at him. “Give her the shot, but I want to take a look at her arm and side again before I turn you loose with a needle and thread.”
“You make it sound like I’m about to embroider a pillowcase,” Donovan said dryly.
Donovan uncapped the syringe and moved to the opposite side of the bed. He looked apologetically at Sam as he moved the covers aside to bare the curve of Sophie’s hip. Sam scowled, but he held his tongue while Donovan efficiently swabbed the smooth skin above her bu**ocks and then plunged the needle into her flesh.
She flinched and let out a startled cry. She curled her hands into Sam’s shirt and trembled, but her eyes didn’t reopen. Sam instinctively pulled her closer, murmuring soothing words in her ear. But he glared his displeasure at his brother as he withdrew the needle and recapped the syringe.
Donovan rolled his eyes and moved onto the bed with one knee to begin to peel back the collar of the flannel shirt she wore. When he got to the bandage on her upper arm, he carefully pulled at it. The padding came away bright red, and Donovan frowned as he wiped at the fresh blood oozing from the wound.
“She needs stitches, Sam. I know you don’t like it, but if you’re not going to do the right thing and take her to the hospital, I need to stitch her up. I can give her a local to numb it. It won’t be as good as the stuff they give you in the ER, but if she stays under, she won’t feel it.”
Sam swore under his breath, closed his eyes and blew out a sound of resignation. “Okay, do it. Be quick about it. I don’t want to make this worse than we have to.”
Sam tucked her face into his neck, then smoothed his hand up her arm until he reached the spot Donovan was prepping. It was ridiculous that he was acting like a nervous woman over this. He’d patched up his share of bloody wounds on the battlefield. He’d seen things that would make even the most hardened soldier blanch. But the sight of Sophie, pregnant and vulnerable in his arms, while his brother was about to stick a needle through her skin, made his insides churn.
“Hold her,” Donovan murmured as he prepared to place the first stitch. “If she jerks, it’ll make it hurt more, and I don’t want to do any more damage.”
“Just do it,” Sam growled.
He curled Sophie tighter into him, offering her his strength and his protection. When the needle pierced her skin, he wasn’t sure who tensed more—him or Sophie.