Donna Grant: Fire Rising

“I agree,” Banan said.

Jane rolled her eyes, but her concern was palpable. “Let’s just get the wound seen to immediately.”

Tristan pulled the chair from the corner closer to the bed. “Get me some scissors, hot water, bandages, and I’ll need thread and a needle to stitch it again.”

“That’s it?” Jane cried. “She needs medicine. It’s infected.”

Banan took Jane’s hand and dragged her to the door. “We willna know the extent of the infection until we remove the stitches that are already there.”

“Right, right,” Jane said. She turned and only missed running into the door because Banan guided her the other way.

It wasn’t long before Jane returned with an armload of supplies. She took two steps into the room and tripped on the corner of the rug, landing hard on her knee, but she didn’t drop a single thing.

Tristan took the scalpel, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, bandages, and needle and thread and laid them out on the bed. Banan then walked in with a pitcher of hot water that he poured into a bowl and set on the table next to Tristan.

Tristan tried not to look at the white satin bra cradling Sammi’s breasts, but he couldn’t help but notice the firm mounds—or ignore the hunger that arose in his body.

Instead, he concentrated on what he was about to do. Her breathing was even, even if the wound looked as if it were causing her an extreme amount of discomfort.

He cleared his throat when Banan caught him staring at her breasts once more. Tristan took the scalpel and carefully cut the crude stitches. Sammi had managed to stop the bleeding, but that didn’t mean she had gotten the bullet out.

That thought caused Tristan to gently turn her onto her right side to make sure there wasn’t a second wound, and just as he suspected, there wasn’t.

“The bullet may still be inside her,” he told Jane.

Banan stalked to the doorway and gave a loud whistle. Within seconds Darius, Laith, and Ryder came into the room. Tristan was intent on removing the stitches while Ryder lifted a light over him and held it there so he could see.

With the stitches removed, Tristan carefully prodded the abrasion. Sammi shifted away from him. Darius grabbed her ankles while Banan knelt on the other side of the bed prepared to hold down her right side while Laith grabbed her left arm.

Tristan looked to Jane. “I’ve never dug out a bullet.”

“None of us have,” Banan said. “You doona have a choice since Kellan isna here. Get to it.”

Tristan took a deep breath and probed farther into the wound. Sammi once more tried to pull away, but she was held down. Moving as quickly as he could, Tristan prodded for the slug with tweezers while Jane wiped away the blood.

Sweat beaded his forehead the longer it took and the more pain he was causing Sammi. Then the tweezers hit something metallic. It didn’t take long for him to realize the bullet was imbedded in her shoulder bone.

Tristan wiped his forehead with his arm and glanced at Sammi’s face. She was pale, but at least she hadn’t woken. Who had done this to her? Who would want to hurt someone so beautiful?

He rotated his shoulder to stretch it and focused on the slug. It seemed to take eons before he finally got it to loosen. With one final tug, he felt it give.

“Got it,” Tristan said as he pulled the bullet out and held it up for everyone to see.

He looked at Sammi to find her powder blue eyes open and watching him. Time halted, froze as they stared at each other. Then her lids closed, breaking whatever hold she had over him.

There was no moment to consider his reaction as Tristan handed the bullet to Laith and set about cleaning the wound and draining away the puss so he could stitch it again.

With the last thread in place, Tristan tied it in a knot and cut it. Ryder clapped him on the shoulder and moved away after he set aside the light.

Tristan sat back and saw the blood on his hands. Suddenly, an image of those same hands covered in blood flashed in his mind, but his skin had been pale blue with long blue claws extending from his fingers.

As quickly as the image appeared, it vanished, leaving Tristan with an odd feeling in his gut. He tried to forget it, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to. Was it a vision from his past, the past everyone claimed was of Duncan Kerr?

“Good job,” Banan said.

Laith held out the bullet after he had cleaned and dried it. “I think you all need to see this.”

Ryder took the mangled slug and looked at it. “There’s something etched on it.”

“What is it?” Tristan asked.

Banan took it next and after looking at it a moment walked out of the room only to return with a magnifying glass. He held it over the bullet for a minute.

“This can no’ be,” he mumbled.

Jane wiped Sammi’s brow with a damp cloth. “What is it?”

The bullet and magnifying glass were passed to each of them until Tristan finally got to see. He saw what was obviously a dragon etched into the metal.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

Laith snorted. “It means we’re fucked.”

“It means Ulrik. It means that he has revenge in mind,” Darius said.

Sammi stared at the tray across her lap and tried to ignore her sister’s determined glare. Sammi awoke feeling rested and without her body aching as it had for the past month.

That’s when Jane explained she had fallen unconscious at the kitchen table. They had brought her upstairs and found the wound. Apparently she had someone named Tristan to thank for removing the bullet.

It wasn’t like she had left it in on purpose. She hadn’t even known it was a bullet. She’d thought it had been something from the blast.

They had blown up her pub. They had killed Daniel. And they had tried to kill her.

She didn’t feel the need to push these bad men to see how far they would go, because she knew firsthand how malicious and cruel they were. That kind of fear, that kind of terror was now a part of her. Everything she looked at was a potential threat, as was everyone.

It had changed her, and not for the better.

“Sammi, please,” Jane begged.

Jane had been pressing her for answers for the past thirty minutes. Maybe Sammi should have pretended not to feel well. It might have put Jane off for a little while. Enough so that she could leave Dreagan while they slept.

“I know you mean well, and that you want to help. Please trust me when I say it’s better if you don’t know,” Sammi finally said as she stirred the sugar in her tea.

Jane shook her head, her short auburn hair swaying against her cheeks. “Screw that,” she said, her American accent taking on a hard note. “I’m your sister. I can help.”

“Half-sister,” Sammi corrected and then immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt look in Jane’s eyes.

“Half, whole. It doesn’t matter. We’re family. You came here for help.”

Sammi let the hot tea slide down her throat. Her mother had always said tea could help anything. How Sammi wished that were true. Nothing could help her now. It was only a matter of time before the Mob caught up with her.

If she hadn’t been wounded, if she had been rested, the last place she would have brought her troubles was to Jane’s door. She’d put her sister and everyone at Dreagan in the path of a madman who had no problems killing anyone who got in his way.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Sammi said as she set her cup down.

Jane tucked her hair behind an ear. “But you did. You knew you would be safe here.”

It was on the tip of Sammi’s tongue to tell Jane everything. She was so tired of carrying such a burden alone, but if Jane and the others knew, it would only put them in danger. No matter how tired Sammi was, she couldn’t do that to them.