by Liliana Hart
Only one of the eleven men on board mattered, and that was Jorgen Yevorovich. It would be even better if they could get him to talk before they killed him.
Deacon planted his explosives pack at the bulkhead and then darted from cover to cover. He caught sight of a guard dozing against the wall, and he came up behind him, snapping his neck before lowering him quietly to the ground. He caught sight of Axel from the other side of the tanker giving similar treatment to another guard.
Axel held up two fingers, indicating that was the second guard he’d killed, and then they each gave a thumbs-up, indicating their explosives had been placed and activated. It was time to clean up any other messes and get the hell out of there. All he needed to do now was find Yevorovich. And he had a feeling he knew just where to find him.
According to their intel, Yevorovich was fond of his vodka and nightly games of durak, a Russian card game. He was a man of comfort, and the last place he’d want to be was out in the cold, making sure the cargo was secure. In fact, from what they’d found out, he hadn’t wanted to be on the tanker at all, but he’d been low man on the totem pole in their quartet and hadn’t had a choice.
Deacon signaled to Axel, and they headed toward the communications room. Elias and Colin were tasked with heading belowdecks and planting their devices. They had seven minutes before the Zodiac would pick them up beneath where the life rafts hung from the side of the tanker.
Deacon smelled cigar smoke as he made his way up the stairs to the control room, and when he reached the top he heard voices. Axel squeezed his shoulder from right behind him, letting him know without words that he heard them as well.
Deacon crouched low and peered around the corner. What he knew about the game of durak was limited, but he did know there was a maximum of five players. He heard a second voice answer the first and then looked at his watch. Seconds mattered.
He signaled to Axel and they moved together—silent—and flanked the door. In theory they needed to ask Yevorovich some questions, but if there wasn’t time it was understood that they’d kill him and hope for better luck with one of his remaining partners.
Deacon kicked the door in and opened fire, sweeping to the right as the four men sitting at the table scattered in all directions. He took down two in quick succession, and Axel made short work of the other two. Yevorovich hadn’t moved from the table. He stared at Deacon out of cold blue eyes and clamped his teeth around his cigar.
“The Day of Destiny,” Deacon said in Russian. “What are the targets?”
Yevorovich smiled and blew out a thick puff of smoke. But he stayed silent.
“Last chance,” Deacon warned.
“I am prepared to die for my country. Are you prepared to die for yours?” Yevorovich asked.
Time’s up. Deacon pulled the trigger and watched the man slump over. “I’m already dead.”
They left the room and headed back down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the life rafts. Deacon caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the way Elias moved. A SEAL’s movements were distinct. Their training was so ingrained it was like breathing.
Deacon looked out and saw the Zodiac idle to a stop just as they reached the edge of the tanker.
“Where’s Colin?” Deacon asked.
“We split off down below,” Elias panted. “I took out two and started the charge for the explosives.”
Deacon scanned the surface of the tanker, looking for any sign of Colin, but there was nothing but an eerily still calmness. Even the winds had stopped blowing. Dante tossed the rope from below and the weighted end made a slight clank as it hit the deck. Axel tied it off quickly and then hooked his foot around the rope and jumped over the edge, sliding down quickly into the waiting Zodiac.
Elias stared at Deacon and said, “We don’t have time to look for him.”
This was the job. To make the tough calls with logic when his emotions wanted something else. And logic said there was no purpose in risking the lives of several men for the life of one.
“I know,” he said. “Go.”
Elias nodded and hooked his foot around the rope before going over the edge and down to the Zodiac. Deacon ran his hands through his hair, his sense of panic mounting. He knew Tess was waiting for him in the submarine. She was probably terrified, watching from a distance, hoping he came back safe. Unless her feelings for him weren’t what he thought they were. Hoped they were.
He had to make a decision. One of his brothers was missing, the other two were safe, and he was team leader.
“Shit,” he said. “If I’m not back in two minutes get the hell out of here,” he called down to Dante.
He got the affirmative and then he ran like hell back the way he had come. He didn’t have to go far. Colin was heading toward him, his leg dragging behind him. There was a knife in his thigh, and Deacon was glad to see he’d left it in there in case his femoral artery had been severed. Smart man. Colin put his arm around Deacon’s shoulder, and then Deacon took as much of his weight as he could and hauled ass back to the Zodiac.
The seconds were ticking down in his mind, and he knew they’d be cutting it close for their arrival back to the submarine. The sub was a safe distance away, and they didn’t want to still be in the Zodiac when the blast went off. XTNC-50 could cover a fairly large radius under the right conditions. In an explosion that size, there was no way the Zodiac could outrun the chemical weapon if they were outside the protection of the submarine.
“What’s the status?” Deacon asked him.
“It’s pretty bad,” Colin said. “Fucker was drunk and laying on the floor. Came up with a knife when I walked through the door.”
“Drunks are always unpredictable. Can you hold on?”
“I can do what I have to,” he said.
Deacon called down to Dante, and with Colin’s help, he got him situated so he could hold the rope. He slid down and into the Zodiac, and then Deacon followed after him. As soon as he was inside, Dante accelerated, jostling Deacon before he had a chance to get settled.
Dante tossed a thermal blanket on top of Colin, and Elias pressed close to his side to keep him from getting thrown around.
“Is there full medical on the sub?” Deacon asked.
“Of course,” Dante answered. “The Shadow never fails. But there’s no doctor.”
“There’s Tess,” Deacon said.
Colin laughed harshly and closed his eyes against the pain. “A mortician is just what I’ll be needing,” he said. “I’ll bleed out. I’m fucked.”
“She’s got some medical training,” Deacon told him. “She chose mortuary school when she decided medical school wasn’t her cup of tea. She’s the best hope you have right now. If we can get you hooked up and get blood into you, you have an even better shot.”
“There’s a stock of blood on board,” Dante said. “We can get him hooked up. You better hope she doesn’t try to embalm you by mistake. I imagine it’d be quite painful on the living.”
Colin was already white from blood loss, but he paled even more. “Fous-toi.”
“No thanks,” Dante said. “I’ve got a long holiday in the Virgin Islands and a lovely woman named Genevieve to take care of those needs. But I appreciate the offer.”
Deacon knew what Dante was doing, keeping Colin alert and slightly agitated so his heart rate would stay up.
The water was choppy, and a spray of fine mist rained down on them, finding its way onto any skin left uncovered. They crossed into U.S. waters, but still had a ways to go to reach the submarine. It was a starless night—pitch-black—so even the water looked like ink beneath them. The handheld radar in Deacon’s hand was their only guide. It was going to be close. Too close. Dante must’ve had the same feeling, because the Zodiac picked up speed.
It was so dark it was impossible to see the submarine until they were almost upon it. When they were alongside, Dante cut the engine and a panel in the sub opened up, just large enough for the Zodiac.
; “This is going to be tricky to keep him stabilized,” Elias said when they were inside and lights came on and the panel began to close.
As soon as the panel was closed, the water began to drain beneath the Zodiac, and Deacon felt his ears pop as the pressure changed. They all carefully lifted Colin and held him steady as the water drained. Once the green light lit indicating that the chamber was secure and there were no water leaks, the door hatches unlocked and there was Tess.
The look of relief on her face when she saw him was like coming home. He’d never had that before. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, and her mass of hair was piled up on her head. She’d never looked more beautiful.
She took one look at Colin and the knife protruding from his leg and never flinched. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad,” Deacon said. “We’ve got to get him stabilized, and we’ve got to get submerged. We have less than five minutes until detonation. It won’t do us any good to save Colin and die from the XTNC-50 gas.”
“There’s a backboard up in the triage room,” Dante said.
“I’ll get it,” Tess said, already disappearing back inside the sub.
When she returned, they lay Colin on the backboard and the men each took a side to keep him as flat as possible. Dante split off from the group, and as they made their way to the triage room Deacon felt the sub begin to submerge.
“It’ll be close,” he said.
They moved Colin into the triage room and set the backboard on the operating table that was bolted to the floor. And then they waited as the seconds ticked by. No one spoke. No one moved. Metal creaked and groaned as the water pressed in around the sub. And then the concussion from the explosion rippled around them. The lights flickered, and as the submarine shifted subtly Deacon spread his legs to balance, catching hold of Tess as she lost her balance. After a few minutes, the soft rocking from the shock waves slowed.
“Does that mean we’re not going to die?” Tess asked.
“Technically, we’re all going to die,” Elias said. “It’s the nature of humans. But we probably won’t die today, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Smart-ass,” she said, blowing out a relieved breath. “If we’re going to live, we should probably see about Colin’s leg. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s passed out. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“We’re following your lead here,” Deacon said. “What do you need?”
“Prayers. I’ve never actually worked on a breathing person before. But anatomy is anatomy, and you’d be surprised some of the things I’ve had to do to bodies to prepare them for burial. The good news is that I’m at least familiar with how to deal with arteries, considering that’s the easiest way to embalm a person.”
“Probably not something we should tell Colin when he wakes up,” Deacon said. “Let’s run this like an op. What supplies do we need?”
The medical bay wasn’t a large space, but it was well equipped. Deacon had told her that it was The Shadow’s job to anticipate and prepare for any situation, and it was obvious they were very good at their job. Whoever they were.
“Right,” she said. “Like an op. Let’s get an IV started and a saline solution going. Someone check and see how many units of blood are in the refrigeration unit. I don’t suppose anyone knows his blood type.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Elias said. “We’ve got plenty of O pos in the fridge.”
“What are you going to do?” Deacon asked her.
She blew out a breath, and the freckles on her face stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. She was white as a sheet, but her voice was steady when she spoke.
“I’m not a doctor. If his femoral artery is severed when we pull that knife, he very well could bleed out and die.”
“It’s a risk we all knew going in,” Deacon said. He spoke to her briskly, a bit harsh, knowing that taking her in his arms wasn’t what she needed to get through this. “You’re the best shot he has until we can get to land. We can have emergency personnel waiting for him there. We’re lucky to have you with us. The rest of us have basic training, but we couldn’t do anything of this level.”
She looked over at Colin’s pale, still form and took a deep breath. “It’s best if I pretend he’s already dead. There’s a reason I chose not to go to medical school. It takes the pressure off of trying to save a life if that’s already off the table.”
“Okay,” he said, raising his brows. This woman never failed to surprise him. “I guess that makes sense in a freakish kind of way.”
She shot him an aggravated look, and he was pleased to see a little color seeping back into her face.
“I’m not sure I understood what I was getting into when I agreed to this. I don’t understand this kind of life. I come from a place where the most exciting thing that happens is when someone forgets to pick their dog poop up off someone’s lawn. Deacon . . . I don’t know if I can do this.”
His heart stuttered and his chest tightened in agony. “Not many people can. It’s always your choice, Tess. Whatever you want to do. If you still want to leave Last Stop when we’re finished here, I won’t try to stop you.”
She nodded and averted her eyes, having no idea how many pieces she’d just left his heart in.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tess was terrified.
But it wouldn’t do anyone, especially Colin, any good if she hid like a coward in the bathroom. She wasn’t a coward.
She’d had no idea the scope of what The Gravediggers did. For Deacon to live that kind of life for fifteen years was an unbelievable feat—the constant surges of adrenaline and danger, the skill, focus, and brilliance it took not only to be able to fight and win, but to strategize yourself and others out of complex situations when plans changed.
Waiting on the submarine had been the longest eight hours of her life, waiting to see if Deacon would appear back at the sub like he’d planned. When the doors had unlatched, she burst through, searching for him. She’d probably looked deranged, but the relief she’d felt when she’d seen him, looking like the devil’s own nightmare, was the exact moment she realized she loved him.
The other realization was that this was only the first of many times she’d have to watch him risk his life. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to take that kind of punishment over and over again.
She went through the cabinets, pulling bandages and instruments, setting them out on a tray. The IV was ready to go in, and all that remained was for her to find her courage.
Axel wheeled a cart into the room. “We’ve got about fifteen units of blood and at least a three-hour journey back to the States.”
“I can only think of one option,” Tess said. “And it’s going to depend on whether his femoral was severed or nicked. I’d actually prefer it to be severed. I don’t have the skills to go in and repair a nicked artery. It’s delicate work and requires a graph from another vein.”
Tess put on a pair of gloves and turned on the bright overhead light so she could get a better look. And then she took a pair of scissors and cut off Colin’s pant leg at the thigh. She handed the scissors over to Deacon.
“Go ahead and remove the rest of his clothing and let’s get some warming blankets on him.”
She was fortunate that the scientific part of mortuary work dealt with the veins. Femoral arteries were how the blood was removed from the body and the embalming solution inputted. She wasn’t used to working with the smaller veins, but the principle was basically the same—the needle had to go inside for the solution to be delivered.
She slid the needle beneath the skin and felt the slight resistance as the vein was located. And then she hooked up the tubing to start the saline solution flow. When she looked back up Deacon and Axel had gotten the rest of Colin’s clothes off and wrapped the warming blankets around him, leaving his leg exposed.
“You said you could only think of one option,” Deacon said.
“Yes, and it’s risky,” she said. “B
ut I can’t think of another way. Or at least another way that I’m capable of being successful at. I once had to embalm a man who’d gotten caught under his tractor. He came to me in five pieces. Both legs, his head, and an arm had all been severed. I still had to embalm him and put all the pieces back together, but the embalming fluid travels through the veins, and theoretically, there should be one point of entry and one exit. With severed limbs and arteries, there are obviously multiple entry and exit points for the embalming solution to go in. So you have to somehow build a bridge and connect the pieces of the vein again, and still have it be functional so the solution can go through.”
“So what does that mean?” Deacon asked.
“It means the only thing I can think of to do is build a bridge from the vein in the top part of his thigh to the vein in his calf with catheter tubing. We start the blood transfusion and get circulation going again, and that should buy us the time we need until we can get him to a hospital and someone who knows what the hell they’re doing can take over.”
“No time like the present,” Axel said, putting on a pair of gloves for himself.
She’d seen the catheter tubing in a package on one of the shelves and ripped open the paper, setting the thin coil of tubing on the tray with the bandages.
“What’s the risk?” Deacon asked.
“I might not be able to get the catheter inserted in time. When the artery is severed the vein retreats into the body. It’s going to take me a little time to hunt for it and pull it back out. He’ll be bleeding the whole time, and it’s a little different working on someone whose blood is still flowing.”
Colin stirred on the table, and she looked up to see his dark eyes on her. His upper lip was beaded with sweat and he was pale.