She glanced at the top of the chart. “Doesn’t look like Tadeas gave you any last night. Is that right?” Using her stethoscope, she listened to his chest. No sign of pneumonia or an irregular heart rhythm. She slipped the blood pressure cuff onto his arm.

“I was fine until I sat up to eat. I think moving it as I shifted brought the pain.”

“I’ll get you some. Need anything else?”

“Do you have a way to get a message to my team?”

After she noted his blood pressure in the chart, she slipped off the gloves. “No. But I have a feeling they’ll be here soon. Captain Norton was here until after midnight.”

He looked over at Sanders. “How’s Drumstick?”

With a chuckle, she asked, “Drumstick? Is that because his last name is Sanders?”

“Well, yeah. Finger Licking Good was too long, as was Eleven Herbs and Spices.”

She grinned, enjoying the man’s sense of humor despite the seriousness of his wound. “Were those the only options?”

He gave a small shrug. “Well, Colonel was out for obvious reasons.”

Her grin transformed into a smile. “Right. What do they call you?”

“Doc Oz.”

“Clever.” She shifted to the second clipboard. “I had to get a bullet out of his chest in an operating room designed to do planned C-sections, and with only the blood my nurse could provide.” She glanced at him. Worry etched lines into his face. “If we can keep him still and your man can get me IV antibiotics, I think he’ll be fine.”

“Daddy will get it done.”

She had started to turn away but paused. “Excuse me? Daddy?”

“Yeah. Team Daddy. It’s just what we call the team leader.”

“What an interesting culture,” she said. “I’ll bring you some ibuprofen as soon as I check on Chicken Leg over there.”

“Thanks.” He closed his eyes.

She knew he had to be in tremendous pain right now. A shot of morphine would make him feel better, even if it did alter him slightly. She would readdress it later in the morning.

At the next bed, she pulled on another pair of gloves. Sergeant Sanders lay with his eyes closed, breathing evenly. She set the clipboard down and reached for his bandage. As soon as her hand touched his chest, he snatched her wrist faster than she could process the movement. A gasp escaped her, and she froze. He opened his eyes much slower than he’d grabbed her. His dark brown eyes and black beard provided a rich contrast to his pale face.

“Sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Reflexes.”

He closed his eyes again. This time when she touched his chest, he didn’t move. She inspected his incision. It looked good. “Did you eat anything?”

Without opening his eyes, he said, “No.”

“Do you want something? I can get you some broth.”