O’Brien took over. Lauren was shocked and his teammate Jacko put his arms around her. Lauren was Jacko’s priority but that was okay. Jacko wasn’t a trained medic and he was. The woman had fallen into his arms, like a wounded comrade. She was his. Her eyes fluttered shut, then she forced herself to open them. She didn’t want to let go, was afraid to. She needed care but she needed reassurance more. He peeled back the coat, pulled up the sweater and examined the wound. Thank God it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. She’d lost a lot of blood. God only knew when she’d been knifed and the wound hadn’t been dressed. But though the wound was about an inch deep and was going to require a lot of stitches, it hadn’t nicked any arteries or organs. He stopped for a second, overwhelmed with rage, willing his hands to stillness. The wound itself wasn’t that serious—the main danger was blood loss. With a blood transfusion and antibiotics it was just a question of healing time. He’d seen far, far worse in battle.
