A small smile pulling at her lips, Zeta scrambled off the bed and hurried into the bathroom. She’d do a little post-sex care herself and—
“Zeta?” Mick’s shout sounded from the front door. “We gotta go.”
He hurried back into the bedroom, and her breath caught at the icy calm expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, snatching a towel from the rack and wrapping it tightly around her body.
He opened the cupboard, searching for something in there. “Elisa had a tumble,” he said without looking at her. “Just before the blackout ended. She needs medical attention.”
8
Zeta stared at him. Eyes wide.
She bolted from the bathroom, heading for the door.
He snagged her wrist just as she ran by him, stopping her.
“What—” She glared at him, trying to yank her wrist free. “Mick, let go. I’ve got to get to Lis.”
“Zeta, you’re only wearing a towel.” He kept his voice calm. Gentle. He’d been here before, with family members of sick or injured patients. Many times. Freaking out didn’t help anyone. He handed her the pair of running shorts he’d brought with him, and one of his T-shirts. “Put these on.”
Worry swam in her eyes. She didn’t move for a second, and then she nodded and snatched the clothes from his hand.
He turned back to the open cupboard and removed a black leather bag. His doc-on-the-go bag, Owen called it. He mainly took it with him whenever there was a family event, just in case something happened to their mum, or if Owen or Tilly, or even himself, did something stupid—which was entirely possible when they all got together. Their family gatherings were prone to be rowdy. He hadn’t ever needed to use it, but bringing it with him whenever he went anywhere had become a bit of a habit. A ritual.
Thank fuck he had.
The rundown Lawson had given him at the cabin’s door a few moments ago was concerning.
Elisa, it seemed, had fallen onto the edge of a table during the blackout and was now experiencing both pain and a bit of vaginal bleeding. Lawson, the most laidback guy Mick knew, had been like a charged wire in their brief interaction at the door. According to Lawson, Elisa was calm but scared. Angus, according to Lawson, was coping—barely.
Mick had sent Lawson back with instructions for both Elisa and Angus, as well as a couple for Owen and Bria. “I’m coming,” he’d told Lawson. “Tell Elisa and Angus it’s going to be okay.”
He gave the contents of his black bag a quick but thorough inspection and then turned to Zeta. In the few seconds she’d spent getting dressed, she’d managed to calm down.
Somewhat.
“Hurry,” she ground out before running from the room.
He followed.
The path back to the reception area was a chaotic aftermath. The storm had left a sodden mess of puddles, fallen palm leaves, tree branches, and wet sand. Rain still peppered down, not as heavily or wild as before, but it was still there stinging his face and eyes.
They ran, wordless. Barefoot.
After this, he’d need to check both their soles for puncture wounds.
Bursting from the path through the bush, Mick’s heart slammed up into his throat at the sight of a slew of guests waving frantically at them on the grass outside the reception venue.
Panic and worry hung on the air, palpable even from this distance.
A choked sob sounded from Zeta, and she threw herself into a sprint.
He followed her and caught up. She tossed him a look of sheer terror as he passed her, but he had to put that to the side. The focus was Elisa.
“Here! Over here!” Lawson met him at the entry. The guests outside parted like a wave. The security expert hurried into the reception, striding through the tables and heading for the bridal table. Mick followed with Zeta.
A distant part of Mick remembered he’d been here, in this room, at this table, only a little while ago. An hour? Is that how long he and Zeta had been gone? It felt like a whole new life had started in that time.