“How are you doing?” Reese asked quietly, stopping a foot from her.

“Probably better than you. You’re soaking wet, Reese. You should go ho—” Tory’s eyes narrowed as she examined the large wet patches on her lover’s clothes. The ones on her right arm and leg actually seemed to be getting larger as they talked. Her heart gave a sudden painful thud. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”

“Yeah, I guess so, “Reese said wearily, fighting a wave of dizziness. In the last several minutes, she’d become aware of a variety of aches and pains. Her right forearm throbbed and burned, and she was having a little trouble putting her full weight on her right leg. It felt like it was about to give out. “I think I might have gotten snagged in a couple of places on a piece of the car when they were pulling us out.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Tory set the cup aside and threw off the blanket, then got hastily to her feet. “I need to look at you. Climb up into the van where there’s some light.”

“Okay,” Reese muttered, struggling with a fresh wave of dizziness. “But let’s go to the clinic. I don’t want to do this out here.”

The fact that Reese allowed Tory to open the door and help her inside only made Tory worry more. Fortunately, at that time of night there was no traffic, and in less than five minutes, Tory pulled into the parking lot in front of the clinic. When Reese pushed open the door to get out, Tory simply said, “Don’t even try it. Wait for me.”

“How are you doing?” Tory asked quietly as they maneuvered through the deserted clinic toward the examining rooms in the rear.

“Fine,” Reese grunted through gritted teeth. For some reason, her arm and leg seemed to be burning worse now.

The pain in Reese’s face made Tory’s insides twist, but she kept her discomfort to herself. When they reached the largest examining room which doubled as a procedure room, Tory reached inside and turned on the wall switch. “Lean against the table until I can help you get your clothes off.”

Hurriedly, Tory watched her hands at the small sank in one corner, then turned and moved to where Reese rested with one hip up on the examining counter. Willing her hands not to shake, Tory began to unbutton Reese’s shirt. “Where’re you hurt, honey?”

“Mostly my right arm and leg. The rest of it’s just bumps and bruises, I think.” Reese was having more and more difficulty moving the injured extremities, and it was difficult to get her shirt off. As Tory eased the garment down over the injured right arm, Reese drew in her breath sharply at the swift streak of pain that shot up toward her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Tory murmured, finally getting the garment off. She bit back a cry of alarm when she saw the jagged tear in Reese’s forearm that was deep enough to expose the muscular compartment. Blood oozed steadily for the dark ragged tear, but there was no indication of bright red arterial bleeding.

“Christ, that’s sensitive.”

“It’s the salt from the marsh water,” Tory said flatly. “That’s what stinging. Let’s get these trousers off so I can see your leg.”

Again, Tory had to struggle to contain her exclamation of concern when she saw the jagged star-shaped puncture wound on the outside of her lover’s right thigh. It looked like it might have been made by the sheared off top of the gearshift. Looking at it, she realized that it probably happened when they had pitched forward during the car’s bumpy ascent up the steep roadbed.

“I’ve got to get you up on the table so I can clean these out. The one on your arm is going to need stitches.” As she spoke, Tory worked at separating herself emotionally from the fact that she was looking at her lover’s torn and bruised body so that she could accomplish what needed to be done.

“What’s wrong, Tor?” Reese asked as she watched Tory examining her.

“I hate to see you hurt,” Tory confessed quietly.

“It’s not too bad. Don’t worry, love.”

“You don’t get it, do you, Sheriff?” Tory smiled up at her with a quick shake of her head. “I worry about you because I love you. It comes with the territory.”

“I know. Try to remember that when I’m being overly protective, okay?” Reese took a deep breath. “Like tonight. I was scared out of my mind when I saw you in that car like that.”

“Okay,” Tory said softly. Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to Reese’s forehead for an instant of much needed contact. When she straightened her expression was soft with love but her eyes were firm with purpose. “Now don’t talk to me any more. Just try doing what I tell you to do. Do you think you can manage that for a few minutes?”

“That’s a tall order, Doctor.”

“Stretch yourself, Sheriff. I’m sure you can manage.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time Tory was finished, they were both awash with sweat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know that hurt.” Tory stripped off her gloves and brushed her hand over Reese’s cheek. Almost to herself, she murmured, “You’re so pale.”

“It’s okay.” Reese tried to smile, but her stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. “It had to be done. I’m glad it was you.”

“I’d rather it not be anyone at all sewing you up.” After filling a paper cup with water at the sink, Tory returned to Reese and held out several colored tablets in her hand, along with the cup. “Take these.”

“What are they?” Reese asked suspiciously.

“Antibiotics and a pain pill. Believe me, you’re going to need it when the lidocaine wears off.”

With Tory’s help, Reese climbed down from the table, and the two of them walked slowly from the clinic to Tory’s Jeep. Ten minutes later, they reversed the process and, together, made their way inside and up to their bedroom.

“Can you get undressed by yourself?” Tory asked. “I really need to take a shower.”

“I do, too.”

“I want you to keep the wound dry tonight. You can shower in the morning.”

Reese nodded and sat tiredly on the edge of the bed. “Okay. You go ahead. I can manage.”

Tory studied her intently for a few seconds. She’d seen Reese injured before, but she’d never seen her appear quite so drained. Reluctantly, she said, “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I’m all right, love.” Reese smiled faintly. “Don’t worry.”

As soon as she could mange, Tory returned to the bedroom, naked except for an oversized T-shirt. The room lights were still on, and Reese was lying on her back on the bed, still fully clothed. Fast asleep.

The insistent buzzing of the alarm finally penetrated Tory’s consciousness. She rolled over and peered at the clock, then sat up, startled. “Reese. Honey, it’s time to get up.”

When she got no response, she shook her lover’s shoulder gently. “Reese?”

“Tory,” Reese mumbled weakly, “I can’t.” She barely managed to get the words out before she rolled to the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. “Sor…”

“Reese!” In a flash, Tory bolted upright and leaned over to stare at her lover. What she saw made her heart nearly stop. Reese’s eyes were unfocused, her color gray, and her skin slick with sweat. Worse, her breathing was shallow and rapid. My god, she looks septic.

“I need to check your wounds,” Tory said as calmly as she could manage while unwrapping the gauze on Reese’s forearm. Before she had even exposed the entire laceration, she could discern the redness and swelling extending from the wound itself nearly four inches up Reese’s arm. Cellulitis. To be this bad, this soon, it’s got to be a virulent organism.

Without hesitation, Tory snatched up the bedside phone and punched 911. In a second, a male voice answered, and she snapped, “This is Doctor King. I need an ambulance immediately.”

She gave them the address and slammed down the phone, then jumped from the bed and ran to get dressed. In a minute, she was back at Reese’s side with a cool towel which she used to wipe her lover’s face. “Reese. Honey, can you hear me?”

Reese’s lids flickered open, and she looked up in confusion. “Tor? What…what’s wrong?”

“You’ve got an infection, sweetheart. I need to take you to the emergency room so we can evaluate you. It’s going to be okay.” Tory glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. Where are they?

Then, in the distance, she heard the siren and breathed a sigh of relief. Loath to leave Reese, she rushed downstairs, opened the front door wide, and signaled with her arm for the EMTs to come inside. “We’re upstairs.”

Thankfully, Reese appeared slightly more coherent when the emergency technicians arrived. Enough to protest, “I don’t need…an ambulance.”

“Probably not,” Tory said gently as she held Reese’s uninjured hand. “But it will be easier on me if I don’t have to drive to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Reese replied softly. However, when she sat up, she gasped sharply, pressed her hand to her midsection, and promptly vomited again.

“Let’s get her on the stretcher,” Tory said sharply. “She needs IV hydration and a loading dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics. Come on. Let’s move it!”

With practiced proficiency, the two male EMTs shifted Reese to the gurney, strapped her on, and pushed her from the room. Tory stayed as close to the side of the moving stretcher as she could. Then she climbed into the back of the van and settled near Reese’s head as one of the techs, a burly redhead, rapidly started an intravenous line in her left arm.

“What do you want to give her, Doc?” As he spoke, he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Reese’s bicep and took a rapid reading. “Ninety over forty. Heart rate’s one-fifty. She’s pretty dehydrated.”

“Run the saline wide open. Then we’ll need a gram of Ancef and a hundred milligrams of gentamycin. We need to cover all our bases, because I don’t know what this is.”

As Tory spoke, the tech sorted through the drug box and began administering the antibiotics.