Page 47 of Steel Vengeance

Oh, crap. She’d forgotten the bullet was still inside.

“Ready?” Stitch walked back into the room, carrying a tray full of medical tools. Sloane spotted a scalpel before squeezing her eyes shut.

No, she screamed internally, but she knew it had to come out. Better not to look.

“You’re going to have to trust me.” He knelt on the floor beside her. “I need to get that bullet out.”

The woman stepped aside, letting Stitch work. It wasn’t exactly an ideal setup for surgery.

He picked up the scalpel.

Tears welled up in her eyes, more from pain than fear. She’d never felt anything like this in her life. She tried to nod, to show she was ready, but the burning was spreading like a red-hot poker digging into her shoulder. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

“I’m going to give you something for the pain,” he said, as if reading her mind. He must have known she was on the edge. “It’ll knock you out. You won’t feel a thing.”

Thank God.

He filled a syringe with the same amber liquid he’d used on Fatima. She winced as he injected it just above the wound site.

The last thing she remembered before the darkness took over was the feel of his hand brushing her hair away from her face—rough calluses, gentle touch. Then everything went black.

CHAPTER 18

Where was she?

Sloane opened her eyes and looked around the room. It was plain and functional, with bare walls and tightly drawn curtains.

Why didn’t she recognize anything?

The ache in her arm cut through her grogginess. She’d been shot! Stitch had brought her here and taken out the bullet.

She glanced at her bandaged arm. It still hurt, but not as much as before. She wiggled her fingers, sighing in relief when they moved. Thank goodness there was no lasting damage.

There was a soft knock on the door, and the woman came in.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Okay, I think. I’m sorry for intruding like this.”

The woman smiled. “Any friend of Stitch’s is welcome here.”

Sloane was even more intrigued.

“How do you know Stitch?” she asked, leaning back on the pillow.

“His team used to come here when there was trouble over the border. I called them my American heroes. So brave.” She shook her head. “Fighting for their country. My daughter lives there, you know. She’s in New York.”

His team? Fighting across the border?

Sloane’s mind swirled with questions.

“When was that?”

“Oh, a long time ago now. Many years.” She patted Sloane’s hand. “You’ve had quite a shock. Stitch said to keep an eye on you and not let you leave the house.” She smiled. “He was very worried about you.”

He was?

A warm glow spread through her, or maybe that was the anesthetic wearing off. Her head felt a little fuzzy.