“What do you carry in your pack for bandages?”
“QuikClot and Kerlix. There should be more in there.”
“We’ll use up yours. I also have the same stuff.”
He nodded.
“I’m going to clean out the wound.” She didn’t like how warm he was. She snagged her thermometer and slipped it under his tongue.
She pulled out her syringe and a fresh bottle of water from her pack. Dipping the syringe in, she pulled water in, then expressed it against the wound. There was another muffled groan and his whole body tensed. He tilted his head back and his breathing went ragged until he got it back under control. The thermometer beeped, and she pulled it out. His temperature was elevated. Damn.
“We’ll need to sit you up again so I can wrap this correctly.”
He nodded, and she helped him up once more.
She grabbed the kit beside him and picked up the QuikClot, cutting it to size and making a pad out of it, enough to cover the hole completely, then pressed it to his side. “Can you hold this?”
She braced him with her shoulder to his back, then wrapped the Kerlix around his middle and secured it with the Velcro. She reached for his undershirt and slipped it back over his head, helping him with his arms, the feel of his rounded biceps hot and hard through her gloves. She eased him back down.
“Do you have pain anywhere else?”
“My hip and ankle.”
She nodded. “We can take care of those after we see to your K9.” She folded and tucked the military shirt into his pack. “Do you have military pill packs?”
“Yes, I took one before you arrived.”
“Good.” She took a breath. “Now for Jugs.”
“It would be much safer if you just untied him and let him come over to the sound of my voice.”
“All right.” She rose, removed her gloves, and brushed off the dirt and jungle debris from her shorts and legs. Jugs had been lying down with his head on his paws, but the moment there was movement, his ears pricked, and he rose to all four paws. He was panting heavily in the still air. She took a deep breath.
“He won’t hurt you. I promise. On some level, he knows you’re helping me. Just approach him slowly and untie the leash. Let me know when you’ve done that, and I’ll call him.”
Gathering her courage, she stepped over the heavy brush obscuring the SEAL from his partner and slowly walked toward him.
“Hi, Jugs. We’re going to be friends now. There’s more delicious fish where that earlier meal came from.” He had the most intense, almost feral, eyes, a fierce copper, and they were trained on her with the kind of laser focus that made her nervous.
When she came close to him, he watched her as she went past him to the tree trunk. He knew she was going to release him. He started to strain against the leather.
“Whoa, boy,” she whispered, pulling a bit to get some slack to untie the lead.
“It’s done,” she called.
“Jugs, hacke,” the SEAL said firmly.
The K9 took off and disappeared into the brush. She walked back over and slipped through to find the dog, his tail wagging, licking the man’s face.
“How is he with medical procedures?” she asked.
“A trooper. I can hold his head.” He reached into one of the pockets of the vest and pulled out the K9’s medical kit and handed it to her. “We’ll keep the muzzle on him for now, but as soon as you’re finished, we’ll need to remove it so he can drink and pant to cool off.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
He lifted up on his elbow and secured the dog around the neck, tucking his head out of sight.
“I’m just going to fix you up, Jugs,” she crooned as she knelt and touched his flank. Max talked to him in German again and the dog relaxed.
“He’s so well-trained.”
“He has to be. I need his immediate compliance, especially on missions.”
“Of course. Makes sense.” She saw that the kit had veterinary tissue adhesive. She took off her vest and spread it on the ground and set the supplies she would need within easy reach. The SEAL had to focus on keeping the dog calm. Donning a new pair of gloves, she cut off the bandage and used her scissors to cut off the fur around the long bloody gash. Then she used water and a syringe to irrigate the area. There was no anesthetic inside the kit, so she used her topical spray. It was the best she could do to minimize the pain. Starting at the far end of the ragged laceration, she applied the adhesive along the cut and glued the ends of Jugs’s flesh together. The dog whimpered, but he didn’t struggle.
“What is your name?” she whispered, glancing up at him. He blinked, drawing attention to those long, sooty lashes and his vivid blue eyes.
“Max Keegan,” he said. “My call name is Mad Max.”
She smiled. “That fits.” She glued some more of the cut. “I’m sure you’re Special Forces.”
“You are?”
“You’re not a Marine,” she said, reaching the center of the gash. “You’re doing great, Jugs.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your hair is too long and beard stubble pretty thick for a day in the jungle. I’ve never seen a Marine look that way. You’re a Navy SEAL. Also, SEALs employ the Malinois breed exclusively.”
“I am a SEAL, but that’s all I’ve got to say about it.”
“Okay,” she said, finishing up the gluing and applying an antibiotic ointment. Then, using the petrolatum gauze and the black, flexible self-adherent bandaging tape, she secured the wrap.
She pulled off the gloves and rolled everything up into the fish plastic wrap and stowed it in her bag, then placed Jugs’s first aid kit back in his tactical vest compartment.
Max let go of Jugs and took off the muzzle, which he put in one of the K9’s pack slots. She reached for two bottles of water. She handed one bottle to Max and poured Jugs a generous amount from the other into his nylon bowl.
“Max was right,” she said. “You are a trooper.” She drained the remaining water from the bottle and set the empty back in her pack.
With Jugs taken care of, she turned her attention back to Max and eased off his boot. She wound the elastic bandage from his first aid kit over his swollen ankle.
“Let’s see your hip,” she said. She reached for his pants, suddenly aware of how really muscular he was, and unbuckled the belt and pulled down the zipper. The man felt like granite. She swallowed at the feel of his hot skin and couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off the line of dark hair that disappeared tantalizingly into the waistband of his briefs.
She grasped the elastic of his undershorts, and he made a hissing noise.
“Ouch.”
She pressed around the huge, discolored hematoma on the flat side of his hip, grasping him under the knee she worked his leg, eliciting several grunts from him. “It’s severely bruised, but nothing seems broken or dislocated. The blood will get reabsorbed into your body. There’s nothing else that needs to be done. It’s obvious how you landed from that fall.” She glanced at the dog. “You were protecting him against the impact.”
“I was.”
Her heart hitched and she smiled. “Someone else is quite the trooper too,” she murmured. “Okay, now we get you guys ready to move.”