“It’s going to be okay. Your brother’s the best medic I know.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her fingers.
As Bjørn took off, Gunnar grabbed the first-aid kit and pulled her shirt up. Davis’s vision blurred at the sight of the bloodied, mangled wound. She went to look, but he jerked his eyes from her stomach and cupped his hands on her cheeks.
“Don’t look.”
She sucked in a sob, tears racing down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, it’s not your fault.”
She grabbed his wrists. “Not yours either.”
He shook his head, and she tightened her hold on him.
“Sunny, this is going to hurt.” Gunnar’s warning jerked her attention away from Davis.
A second later, her scream ripped through the cockpit, then cut off as she passed out. Thank God. Maybe Gunnar could get the worst of it done before she came back around.
“Well?” Davis steeled himself and adjusted his position to help Gunnar.
“I don’t know.” Gunnar’s loud voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think the bullet hit any major organs, but she’s losing a lot of blood, and this kit isn’t stocked well.”
“I’ve got freeze-dried plasma on my bird,” Bjørn yelled back. “Annie’s faster than this heap of junk, anyway.”
“Then, we swap helicopters.” Gunnar shook his head at the necessary move.
That would waste precious time Sunny might not have. Davis groaned, wrapped his arm around her head, and bent his face down to hers. He let his anguish break free from him, mixing with the tears already drying on her cheeks.