“Her arm—mostly superficial, but far too many cuts. But why blood on this side?” Caz scowled as he pulled Bull’s coat away farther and tugged at her soaked clothing. “Sí, there’s blood here. Audrey, let me see your hip.”

As Gabe leaned forward to unzip her jeans, her gaze fixed on his raingear. At the place where the camo spots all ran together…with red.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, you’re hurt.” A buzzing started in her ears. So much blood. “Fix Gabe. He’s hurt. Fix him.”

Her breathing was getting all funny and fast as she turned to Caz. “Fix him.”

“Shhh, shhh.” Caz ran his hand over her back. “Strip down some, Gabe, while I check out her wound. And I’ll deal with whichever of you is hurt worse.”

“You will care for Aud—” Gabe broke off at the high growl she made. Chuckling, he doffed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt.

Seeing the bleeding, gaping wound along his ribs, she started to cry. “Noooo. He hurt you.”

“Been hurt worse.” Gabe’s eyes darkened as Caz peeled down her jeans. “Jesus, that looks nasty.”

She looked down. A bloody furrow ran across the outside of her hip. Well, eff-it-all, the New Yorker’s bullet had hit her. She only had a second to see it before Caz had rinsed it off and put on a pad, followed by a thicker piece of gauze. He taped it down tightly enough to make her wince.

“You were lucky, chiquita. The bullet just made a gouge on the way past. Missed the bone, missed the joint, only got tissue.” After pulling Bull’s coat back around her, Caz rose and stepped to Gabe’s side with his first aid kit.

“Your ribs turned the blade. You were lucky, ’mano,” Caz muttered.

“Yeah, we all were.”

After the knife puncture on Gabe’s ribs was cleaned and covered, Audrey found she could breathe again. He’d be all right.

“Look who’s here, Caz.” Bull approached with the pilot beside him. The man had short caramel-colored hair, fair skin with a weathered tan. A long jagged scar ran across his forehead. Another one on his cheek disappeared into a short beard and pulled his upper lip into a slight sneer.

“Hawk.” Jumping to his feet, Caz hugged the man. “Dios. Where did you come from, bro?”

“Talked to Bull a couple of days ago. I heard the old man’s girlfriend had trouble.”

Why did this Hawk’s intonation sound more like the “the girlfriend is trouble?” Perhaps because of the way he was studying her with cynical blue eyes.

Hawk turned away from her to Caz. “I was flying to see you, but when I called the Rescue PD on where to land, Dante said shit was going down. So I came here.”