Oath of Honor

throat. Her ears rang. She expected to find craters in the blacktop and

wished for a flak jacket and helmet. Her heart pounded in her throat.

Everything she knew about battle training flashed through her mind.

She followed Evyn’s path exactly, thinking about IEDs and severed

limbs and crippling burns. Another flash overhead, another bang. Her

pulse shot up and her belly writhed.

That couldn’t be live ammo, these people weren’t that crazy, but

she ducked all the same at the sound of weapons fire. The lead car was

stopped crosswise on the road, smoke coming from under its hood. Two

• 102 •

Oath Of hOnOr

men and a woman crowded around the rear door of the limo. Evyn ran

to them and Wes pushed forward, nudging Evyn aside to get a look in

the interior.

“POTUS is unconscious.” A heavyset Asian man pointed to a man

she didn’t recognize—the president’s stand-in—sprawled half-off the

rear seat.

More explosions, more noise. Wes couldn’t make out most of what

was coming over her radio, and she shut the chaos out of her mind. Her

only job right now was stabilizing her patient.

“Don’t move him,” Wes ordered, climbing into the back.

“We have to—we’re not secure,” the agent said.

“Not yet.” Wes flipped the locks on the FAT kit and surveyed the

contents. Two seconds later she spied the cervical collar and pulled it

out. “Hold this.”

“I got it,” Evyn said, crouching next to Wes’s left shoulder.

Wes handed Evyn the collar, yanked out her earpiece, and fitted

the stethoscope to her ears. She checked for bilateral breath sounds,

made sure his airway was clear, and did a fast visual survey of the

victim. No other injuries. “I’ll take the collar now, thanks.”

She secured the collar and said, “Okay—let’s go. You”—she

pointed to the big agent—“stabilize his head and neck while we move

him. Evyn, get three others on torso and limbs.”

“We know the drill.” Evyn backed out of the vehicle and Wes

followed, keeping below the top line of the SUV to take advantage of

what little cover she had.

Agents crowded around, Wes hoisted her med kit, and the evac

team took off running.

v

Wes gathered up her gear from the floor in the back of the

ambulance and stowed it in the med kit. Her shoulder ached and her

eyes were gritty, but her head buzzed pleasantly with the adrenaline

rush that followed every trauma alert. The “president” was in the OR

fifteen minutes after injury—or would have been if this weren’t a drill.

He’d been delivered stable and ready for emergency intervention. A

by-the-book field evac—just the way she’d written it.

“You about ready?” Evyn said from behind her.

• 103 •

RADCLYfFE

Wes closed the FAT kit. “All set.” She hefted it, winced, and

shifted it to her other hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Jammed my shoulder a bit. It’s noth—”

Evyn climbed into the rig and pointed to the narrow stretcher

against the wall. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.” Wes laughed. “I’m the doctor, remem—”

“And I’m team leader. Sit.”

Wes shut it and sat. No point getting into a pissing contest over

who was in charge just yet. She kept quiet as Evyn helped her ease her

jacket off and unclipped her radio.

“Can you unbutton your shirt?” Evyn asked, her gaze fixed

somewhere past Wes’s left shoulder.

“Sure.” Wes loosened the top half of her shirt one-handed and

tugged it free from her pants. She wore a tight silk tank beneath it and

was suddenly aware of her nipples tightening. Great. “It’s a bit cold in

here—can we do this fast?”

“Where does it hurt?” Evyn ordered herself not to look down. The

aisle was narrow, and she was practically kneeling between Wes’s legs.

If she leaned forward another inch their breasts would touch.

“Left shoulder joint. It’s just stiff—nothing—”

“We’re going to do this, so you can just suck it up,” Evyn said.

“Fine.”

Ever so carefully, Evyn drew the collar of Wes’s shirt aside with

two fingers, careful not to touch skin, until she could see her shoulder.

“Big bruise.”

“Feels like it.”

Evyn rocked back on her heels as far as space would allow. “I’m

going to range it. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Go ahead.” Wes watched Evyn’s face while Evyn gently cupped

her elbow and manipulated her shoulder. Evyn’s eyes were storm-cloud

blue, but her touch was sure and steady. A streak of dirt over her cheek

made her look unexpectedly vulnerable, and Wes brushed it away

before she had time to stop herself. Evyn flinched and Wes dropped her

hand. “Shoulder’s okay. Sore, but no worse than at rest.”

“You’ll need to ice it,” Evyn said.

“I will. Thanks.”

Evyn looked away. “You’re welcome.”

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“That was a pretty impressive sim.”

“You didn’t seem too bothered by it.” Evyn pushed to her feet and

moved back to give Wes room to dress. She resisted the urge to ask her

if she needed help. She didn’t want to touch her again. Not at all.

Wes looked up at her. “Did you expect me to be?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re a paper pusher and all.” Evyn grinned,