He shucked out of his clothing and wasted no time getting something dry on. Then he returned to Sophie.
Carefully, he peeled the soaked layers from her body, paying special care to her injuries. A variety of bruises dotted her body, and his jaw tightened as he studied the dark fingerprints at her neck.
Her nipples puckered and stood erect as chill bumps chased down her body. Her body was slim and curvy except for the mound of her belly. Sam stared unabashedly at her nude form, mesmerized by the changes her pregnancy had wrought.
She seemed too small and too thin. She’d been a little bit of a thing to begin with, but shouldn’t pregnancy fill a woman out? Make her more curvy? He’d certainly heard his mom complain about gaining a cup size with each of her pregnancies and how her hips had expanded exponentially. Other than her nipples being darker, the only change in Sophie was the bump riding low on her belly.
“Is it mine, Sophie?” he whispered. “Why did you leave?”
He carefully slipped one of his flannel shirts around her and buttoned it up over the bandages Donovan had secured to her wound. He worried over the blood that had seeped through the gauze. Any blood loss couldn’t be good for a pregnant woman, no matter how slight the wound was. And then there was the fact she’d obviously been in the lake for a while. Her skin was still cold to the touch and her lips had a bluish tinge that he didn’t like at all.
So many questions. The smart thing would be to call Sean and get Sophie to the hospital. She was hurt and she was pregnant. But every time he looked toward the phone, he remembered the fear in her eyes and the conviction of her words.
She certainly wasn’t lying about a threat. Whether it was to her, him or both of them, he couldn’t afford to take chances with her life—and her child’s.
He crawled onto the bed, piling more covers over her cold body. He lay on his side and pulled her carefully against him, giving her the benefit of his body heat. Then he pulled the covers tight around them, sealing in the warmth.
Gradually she stopped shivering and seemed to settle. Her lips parted against his chest, and a breathy sigh escaped. She tried to nestle closer but whimpered when her shoulder bumped against his body.
“Careful, honey,” he whispered and pulled her hand down to wedge between their bodies so he could render her immobile.
“C-cold,” she murmured restlessly against his skin.
“I know. You’ll get warm. Just lie still so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“S-sam? Is that really you or am I still dreaming?”
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her confusion. Shock and cold—not to mention a bullet wound—could make a person pretty damned “off.” Suspicion crept into his mind even as he wanted to discount it all as some bizarre coincidence.
Only an idiot ignored the obvious. Coincidence, my ass.
“It’s me, Sophie. I’m here. You’ve been hurt. I need to get you to a hospital. You need to make sure your baby is okay.”
It took everything he had not to interrogate her then and there. Only the knowledge of how very fragile she was restrained him.
She shook her head against him, then moaned low in her throat.
“Don’t move. It’ll only hurt worse,” he cautioned.
“Can’t go to hospital,” she said hoarsely. “He’ll find me.”
Sam’s brow crinkled and he stared down at her face pressed so firmly against his chest.
“Who, Sophie? Who’ll find you?”
“My father’s—his men,” she corrected.
As what-the-fuck statements went, that was a doozy. Sam stared down as her eyelids fluttered shut once more. He wanted to beat his head in frustration, and then he immediately felt guilty when he remembered that the woman in his arms had obviously had a pretty shitty day—or week for that matter.
“Sophie.” He waited for a response. “Sophie,” he said a little louder. “Honey, wake up. I need you to talk to me here.”
She moaned and dug her face into his chest, a gesture that told him more than words that she wanted him to shut up and go away.
This was making him crazy. Van would be back any second with medicine and whatever else he’d managed to dig up. Going with that thought, Sam checked the covers to make sure she was shielded from any prying eyes. Not that Van was an asshole, but hello, a half-naked woman would draw any red-blooded man’s eyes. Wouldn’t matter if she was dead.
He sighed when she went limp again. Goddamn it. This was not his day, his week or even his month. Had he really been thinking just an hour ago that he missed her? It was almost as if he’d conjured her up, and while he’d had plenty of fantasies about her being in his bed again, this damn sure wasn’t what he had in mind.
Donovan knocked once, then without waiting for an answer, stuck his head through the door. Seeing Sam and Sophie, he came on in, a med kit in one hand and a syringe with a capped needle in the other.
“What the hell is that?” Sam demanded when Donovan came closer to the bed.
“Antibiotics. Got it out of the field kit.”
“How do you know it’s safe to give it to a pregnant woman?”
“The Internet is a useful thing,” Donovan said calmly. “Amazing what you can find. I don’t even know why people go to doctors anymore.”
“I’m supposed to trust my child’s safety to some web-site you Googled?” Sam asked in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. You got a better idea? I still vote we call Sean and get her the hell to the hospital. And you know I’m right.”
Sam sighed, then gestured for Donovan to come closer with the stuff. He also carried an assortment of bandages and ointments along with a suture kit.
“Whoa, I’m not letting you stitch her up. That’s crazy.”
“So is letting her arm rot off from infection.”
“Damn it, Van. You’re the most infuriating son of a bitch.”
At that Donovan cracked a slight smile. “You and Garrett are so easy, I swear. I think you were both born with corncobs up your ass. I was trained as a medic, remember? I can do all sorts of amazing things. Fly airplanes and choppers, and I can sew limbs back on. They might rot off later, but hey that’s not my problem.”
“Irreverent bastard,” Sam muttered. “You’ve spent too much time around Joe.”
Donovan grinned again. “Joe always was my favorite sibling.”
Sam waved impatiently at him. “Give her the shot, but I want to take a look at her arm and side again before I turn you loose with a needle and thread.”
“You make it sound like I’m about to embroider a pillowcase,” Donovan said dryly.
Donovan uncapped the syringe and moved to the opposite side of the bed. He looked apologetically at Sam as he moved the covers aside to bare the curve of Sophie’s hip. Sam scowled, but he held his tongue while Donovan efficiently swabbed the smooth skin above her buttocks and then plunged the needle into her flesh.
She flinched and let out a startled cry. She curled her hands into Sam’s shirt and trembled, but her eyes didn’t reopen. Sam instinctively pulled her closer, murmuring soothing words in her ear. But he glared his displeasure at his brother as he withdrew the needle and recapped the syringe.
Donovan rolled his eyes and moved onto the bed with one knee to begin to peel back the collar of the flannel shirt she wore. When he got to the bandage on her upper arm, he carefully pulled at it. The padding came away bright red, and Donovan frowned as he wiped at the fresh blood oozing from the wound.
“She needs stitches, Sam. I know you don’t like it, but if you’re not going to do the right thing and take her to the hospital, I need to stitch her up. I can give her a local to numb it. It won’t be as good as the stuff they give you in the ER, but if she stays under, she won’t feel it.”
Sam swore under his breath, closed his eyes and blew out a sound of resignation. “Okay, do it. Be quick about it. I don’t want to make this worse than we have to.”