“I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “I hit you with both barrels. I laid it on so hard, I wore myself out! How are you still here?”
She stared at him. “You did that on purpose? How?”
“Practice.” He raised his head. His intense gaze again fixed on her, but now she felt no fear. He had beautiful eyes. They were an astonishingly clear blue, like an early morning sky, fringed with thick black lashes.
“I’ve got some very bad people after me. You could get caught in the crossfire if you stay with me. But since you were playing hooky when God gave out fear...” As if against his will, he gave her an ironic smile. It transformed the hard angles of his face, making her notice again how good-looking he was. “If you can help me get up and walk a block, I can get us both into a secure building. Once we’re inside, we’ll be safe. I have friends I can call.”
As an afterthought, he added, “I’ll give you permission to examine me then. I know you’re dying to check me out.”
She couldn’t tell if he was making a double entendre or a statement of fact. Strange guy. Strange hot guy who’d been ambushed with a tranquilizer rifle and could terrify you just by looking you in the eyes. Strange brave guy who preferred sacrificing himself to putting a stranger at risk.
Catalina crouched low. “Put your arm around my shoulders.”
“I know the drill.” He propped himself up on his left arm and put his right arm around her shoulders. It was warm, not cold with shock. Having his arm around her made her feel oddly safe and secure. As if he was protecting her, though he couldn’t even walk.
She gripped his right wrist, unable to help noticing that he had amazing biceps. Amazing arms in general. Even his wrist was thick with muscle. Strange, totally ripped guy.
Strange sexy guy who knew unusual things. He knew how to do an assisted walk, and he knew the laws of consent for treatment.
“Are you a paramedic?” she asked, wrapping her left arm around his waist. He was warm all over.
He shook his head, struggling to get his legs under him. “I mean, yes, I am. But that’s just a qualification, not my job. I’m— I was— a PJ. That’s—”
“Air Force pararescue. Special Ops combat search and rescue,” Catalina filled in. Quoting a poster she’d seen, she added, “Because sometimes even Navy SEALs have to call 911.”
“That’s right.” His breath came harsh in her ear. He couldn’t seem to move his legs at all, though she could feel his attempts through the tensing and flexing of his other muscles against her body. But though he’d said bad guys could descend on them at any second, his voice and expression remained calm. “Did you ever want to be one?”
“Yeah, but they don’t take women.” Then she stared at him. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve got the right stuff. Mentally, I mean.” Then he let out a frustrated breath and stopped struggling to move. “I hope you’ve got the right stuff physically, too, because we can’t do an assisted walk. My legs are completely paralyzed. You’ll have to drag me. Or I could give you the code to the building. It’s only a block away. You could go in
and call for help—”
“Forget it,” she replied. “I’m not leaving you.”
He smiled, but not the same amused, catlike smile she’d seen before. This one held infinite depths of sadness and regret over its pleasant surface. “Never leave a fallen comrade, huh? Are you an airman? A Marine?”
“No, I’ve never served,” Catalina replied. “And I’d rather not drag you. I don’t know what kind of injuries you have. Do you know?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The tranquilizer knocked me for a loop. I don’t remember the fight too well. I’m not even sure exactly how I got here.”
She glanced at the blood on his shirt. If he had internal injuries, she definitely shouldn’t drag him. “I’ll do a fireman’s carry.”
He gave her a doubtful glance, which didn’t surprise her. He had to be over a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than her. Then he shrugged. “Okay. Let’s give it a try.”
Catalina wrestled him over her shoulders, thanking her lucky stars that she’d just spent months in a disaster zone without any high-tech amenities. If it hadn’t built up her strength moving heavy equipment and patients, she probably couldn’t even have gotten him into position.
She stood up, careful to lift from her legs, not her back. He weighed even more than she’d imagined. Her knees cracked audibly, and she staggered.
“Easy.” He laid a steadying hand on her forearm. “Find your center of gravity and settle into it.”
“Thanks,” she gasped, regaining her balance. “Which way?”
“Forward. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
She took a step forward, trying not to pitch forward under his weight. Her breath burned in her lungs, and her back and legs and neck ached. She didn’t feel like she could make it five more steps, let alone an entire city block. But her other choice was dragging him over the sidewalk and maybe making his injuries worse. She took another step, and then another one.
Another step. Another.