Leopold: Part One: Royal Heartbreakers Page 8

  After a moment, when nothing has moved, I start moving back down the path in the direction from which I came. The rock is clenched in my fingers, ready to be hurled at the first sign of movement. As a prince, my military training was more a formality than anything else—they would never send someone of royal blood into actual combat—but that doesn’t mean I didn’t pick up some useful tactical skills.

  The ground slopes downward on my left, angling in what I suspect is the direction of the river. Most animal predators would stalk me from higher ground—it gives them a distinct advantage—and the same is true for any men with actual training or experience in this sort of thing. Since I have yet to catch sight of anyone or anything, I suspect I’m not dealing with amateurs. The bad news is that I’m in the weaker position. The good news is that this means I can keep my attention solely on the forest to the right of the path.

  I move slowly at first, then quicken my pace little by little. I wish I’d thought to read those books on the jungle Matthias collected before our departure—they might have given me a better idea of what natural predators to expect in a place like this, and possibly even how to behave upon encountering such beasts. Will I provoke a jaguar into chasing me if I try to run? Should I stand my ground and shout in an attempt to scare it off?

  Frankly, though, it’s the idea of human predators that makes me more anxious. I could take two or three men by myself—unless they had firearms. But if they have guns, then why haven’t they approached me yet? I’m armed only with a stone.

  A twig snaps behind me. I freeze and glance back.

  The next few seconds are a blur—suddenly there’s a large shape moving toward me, and I don’t have time to do anything but react. The stone flies from my hand, and my aim must be good because I hear a cry—but whether it’s human or animal, I don’t know. As I spin around, my foot slides off the path onto the slope down toward the river, and suddenly everything is shifting beneath me. I go flying backward, sliding down the incline before I have a chance to see what tried to attack me.

  I know from my military training how to fall, but those lessons never prepared me for an environment like this. Though I try to roll in a way that protects my body, there are too many things in the way. One of my feet catches in some underbrush as my left shoulder hits the base of a tree. I grunt in pain, but the sound is lost as I keep tumbling. And then just when I think the fall will never end, my body slams into a large rock. Searing pain erupts through my side.

  I groan, but there’s no time to think about the pain. I attempt to sit, forcing myself up on my elbows, and look back up the slope. I need to find another weapon before whatever attacked me tries again.

  There’s nothing on the slope. I wait for several long, painful moments, but nothing appears to be coming after me. Maybe I actually hurt the damn thing—or at least scared it off for the time being.

  Only when I’m sure I’m not in immediate danger do I look down at my side. There’s a tear in my shirt, and beneath it, a huge gash is oozing massive amounts of blood.

  Fuck.

  Now that I’ve seen how bad it is, I’m suddenly aware of how lightheaded I am. I press one hand against the wound—wincing as I do—and fumble for my mobile in my pocket.

  I’m right next to the riverbank. I’m going to have to shout to get Matthias to hear me over the roar of the water. But as my finger hits the call button and darkness starts closing in on my vision, I’m not thinking about the precariousness of my current situation. Instead, I find myself thinking, Well, at least I have an excuse to see Elle again today.

  Elle

  A wiry man stands in front of me, wringing his hands. He hasn’t told me anything helpful since he’s arrived, and I haven’t been able to understand much of what he’s saying with the way he’s blubbering and carrying on. He has a minor cut on his forehead that may require a few sutures. From the small amount I’ve been able to understand between his frequent sobs, he was hit in the head with a rock.

  He seems a little old to have been out on the trails with Owen and his bunch, but whatever. It’s not like it’s for me to judge. But the way the guy is almost sobbing, you’d think he was dying. Or he had killed someone.

  I point at the gurney behind him. “Sit down on that bed and do not get up again.” I glare at him, and he drops onto the gurney without argument. It doesn’t stop the wringing of his hands, though, or the crying.

  I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t just sent Raul to take the baby to the hospital in the car. With Raul, there’s at least a bit of a buffer—it makes me almost miss the hospital, where I could always get a nurse or another doctor to come in and stand with me when we had a difficult patient.

  I search the drawer between the two gurneys for my penlight to do a quick neurological examination. I pull out the small instrument and turn back to him.

  Tears are streaming down his cheeks. “I…I only did what my king asked of me. I followed him. I wanted to be sure he was safe.”

  I nod. “Of course you did,” I agree, even though I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. He must have hit his head harder than he thinks. I walk over to him and shine the light into his eye. “You may need to go up to the hospital for a CT scan. Your speech is a little garbled and I can’t rule out a brain injury—”

  He grabs my wrist. “I went to La Playa first. No one was there.”

  I unwind his fingers from my forearm and pat his hand as I place it back on his lap. I smile, trying to cover up the prickling fear creeping up my spine.

  I really need Raul…

  I shine my light into his other pupil—it looks normal from what I can see. I would usually ask him to follow the light with his gaze, but under the circumstances, I think getting him out of here would be better—I’m suddenly feeling pretty unsafe and almost sorry I didn’t lock the doors this evening.

  “Do you have a way to get up to Santa Rosa? It’s an hour away by car. But you’ll need someone to drive you—”

  He snivels a little more and shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Doctor. I am not the injured party, which is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Right.” Like most medical professionals, I’ve developed a sixth sense for knowing when something isn’t right—and there is definitely something wrong here. I’m praying he isn’t going to start swinging his fists at me.

  He shakes his head, pointing to his forehead again. “I frightened him. As I said, I am not the one in need of assistance. He may be dying—I wasn’t able to see—”

  “Who?” My brow furrows and there’s an odd sensation in my stomach as it twists around on itself. “Who may be dying?”

  “As I said, my prince—”

  My stomach doesn’t only twist—it cartwheels into a knot in my belly and I find it difficult to breathe for a moment. I come to my senses, realizing he’s talking about Leo. “Where? Where is he?”

  He points toward the door. “He was near the river—”

  Oh, fuck. I don’t even wait for him to finish his sentence. I run for the cupboard under the sink on the other side of the room and grab the large bag filled with medical supplies I have stashed for emergencies. I sling the strap over my shoulder and run out the door.

  I barely feel the weight of the heavy bag flopping against my side as I race to the trail behind La Playa. The river trail is to the right and I run as fast as I can, trying not to think about the consequences or how I’ve left another patient behind.

  I only get halfway down the trail, barely past the point where it forks one way to the zipline and the other to the river and I see…blood. My eyes snap to Leo’s injured body and I don’t even notice the two people flanking him for a moment. My brother and another man I don’t recognize—soaking wet from having been in the river—are carrying Leo.

  I rush to the three men, dropping the bag for a moment to check Leo. His breaths are shallow and ragged, but he’s definitely moving air and I motion for the men to follow me. I point at a flat spot on the g
round and they lay Leo down so I can examine him.

  I open the bag, fishing for scissors to cut off his shirt, and I look for a stethoscope so I can listen to his lungs. I don’t even glance up at Owen or his friend. “What happened?” I pull on some gloves and get to work, cutting away the blue fabric of Leo’s torn shirt so I can access the wound underneath.

  “Dude, we were rafting and we saw him take a dive off the bank over there.” I recognize my brother’s voice without looking up at him. “It looked like he hit one of the rocks pretty hard, so we bailed and swam over.”

  I put the stethoscope in my ears and listen—his lungs sound clear, but he’s bleeding pretty heavily from the gash on his side. I pull the stethoscope off, toss it back in the bag, and grab a wad of gauze to at least stop some of the bleeding. I pull a neck brace out of the bag and slide it onto his neck. There’s no way I can tell if he’s had a spinal injury or not, and I have to suspect he might have hurt himself pretty badly after a fall like that.

  I look up at my brother. “We need to get him back to the clinic.”

  The other guy groans. “Too far, dude. My back is killing me—”

  “I will kill you if you don’t help.” My words sound a little more acidic than I intended, and the guy looks down at the ground sheepishly.

  Owen motions to his friend and they pick Leo up again, sliding their arms under him and grasping each other’s hands to create a makeshift hammock underneath the unconscious man.

  Considering how uncomfortable the position looks for all three of them, it’s more than a little troubling how Leo hasn’t moved at all.

  I lug my supplies back to the clinic and the two men carry Leo behind me. The man who was here before—I never did catch his name—meets us about halfway back. The hand wringing starts up again when he sees Leo, and I figure he must be his travel companion—maybe his valet. I don’t think about it too long—I have two patients to attend to now.

  I make the smaller man take a seat on the gurney again when we get back to the clinic. I don’t even have to say anything to him—I point my finger and he plops down on the edge of the bed, facing the other gurney.

  He begins to cry again—something about the way he’s behaving tells me he loves Leo like a son—but I don’t have time to chat with him about it now. I pull the curtain between the two beds closed with a snap of my wrist and Owen and his friend manage to get Leo onto the other gurney.

  I pull his shirt away from his body as they’re laying him down—it’s pretty much shredded now. I pull out the gauze I’d stuffed in the wound on the left side of his chest—the cut isn’t quite as bad as I’d thought. I inspect the wound—other than one tiny area that might need a stitch or two, it’s pretty minor. He didn’t wake up when I touched it, though, and it’s a bad sign he isn’t responding to pain.

  I gather some supplies to clean the gash. He needs to get to the hospital so they can figure out why he’s unconscious and to see if there is any damage to his neck or back. It might be nothing more than a concussion, but there’s no way to know without a scan, and that is one piece of equipment this clinic will never have.

  I walk back over to my patient and look up at the two men standing at the end of his bed. I almost force Owen to meet my gaze. “I thought I told you not to get wet.”

  He gives me a shrug but doesn’t smile. Unlike his friend, he seems to know how serious the situation is here.

  I look at the other guy—he’s young, like Owen, but without the dreadlocks or the unshaven face. “Do you have a car?” It’s a long shot—most of the people who come through here hike in.

  The guy shakes his head and frowns. “Is the dude gonna die?”

  I give him the only answer I can. “I don’t know.”

  I hear sobbing from the gurney next to me after I say the words. I walk over and pull the corner of the curtain back to look at the other man. “What’s your name?”

  He snivels and buries his head in his hands for a moment. “Matthias.” He pauses. “I’ve failed. I’ve failed them all—”

  “Matthias.” I try not to roll my eyes at his exaggerated regret. “Do you have a car?”

  His gaze snaps to mine and the crying stops instantly. He nods.

  “Good.” I nod in return. “You need to get it so we can get Leo to the hospital. Owen will drive you—”

  “You mean us.” Owen interrupts. “You’re coming, too, Elle. You can’t just leave him—he needs an ambulance or something. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He motions with his shoulder toward his friend. “And Patrick definitely doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing—”

  “It’s true,” Patrick interrupts. “I don’t.”

  “Fine. I’ll come, too.” It’s late, and the clinic should be closed. I always make a million excuses for why I can never leave this place—I’m always sure the second I do a baby will need my help—but it’s clear Leo needs my assistance more than anyone else now. And I don’t have any other way to get him the help he needs.

  Owen goes over to talk to Matthias about where he can find the car keys. Owen and Patrick leave after a few minutes and I turn my attention back to Leo.

  I pull on another pair of gloves and gingerly clean the wound before packing it properly. Part of me hopes he’ll wake up from the pain I must be causing him, but he doesn’t move.

  After I’ve cleaned his wound, I tape a large bandage over the gash before I get to work on cleaning up the rest of the dried blood still covering his chest.

  I barely touch him with the saline-soaked gauze—barely even have a moment to appreciate the well-defined muscles I had suspected were hiding underneath those dress shirts of his—when he shifts.

  Leo’s eyes flutter open and he grabs my wrist. “That is very cold.”

  I have to press my lips together to hold back my laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anything to warm it with.”

  “Mm.” He releases my arm and tries to lift his head, unable to go very far because of the brace still encircling his neck. He looks around for a moment before dropping his head back onto the pillow. “How did I get here? Was it you who was following me?”

  I glance at the curtain separating the beds, uncertain of whether or not I should share who was following him through the jungle. I shake my head and go back to work, cleaning the blood from his skin.

  He watches me, his eyes following my every movement.

  I stand, looking down at him. “You can move your arms, I see. Can you move your legs, too?”

  He tries to lift his head again, but drops it back in frustration. “The problem, Doctor, seems to be with my neck.”

  I nod and sit on the side of the bed again. “I know—you’re wearing a brace because you fell. You might have a neck injury. If I had an x-ray machine—”

  He groans and closes his eyes. “It’s on the list of upgrades.”

  I pat his arm and stand again. “Of course it is.” I walk to the end of the bed—he seems to be moving fine now. Keeping the neck brace on until we get to the hospital might be an unnecessary precaution, but one I’m not willing to risk.

  “How long do you plan to keep me in this…most uncomfortable position?” He tries to lift his head again and groans, dropping back onto the pillow.

  I stifle the urge to laugh. “Until you arrive at the hospital, I’m afraid—”

  The rustling from the other bed interrupts me and I turn to see Matthias standing next to me. “Your Highness…there are no words…” He begins to cry again and I can’t help it—I reach out and pat his arm.

  His head drops and he looks over at Leo. “Your father insisted… He made me swear an oath that I wouldn’t leave you, Your Highness. I didn’t mean…I never meant to startle you…” His head drops into his hands again and I lead him back around the curtain.

  I point to the gurney and he sits down, giving me a dejected nod.

  I walk back around the curtain and Leo is sitting on the side of the bed, pulling at the brace on his neck.

&
nbsp; My eyes widen. “You can’t—”

  He holds up a palm to me, unfastening the brace with his other hand. “I assure you, Doctor, I’m fine. I seem to have survived my ordeal.”

  “Thank God. Oh, thank God,” I hear Matthias cry behind the curtain.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes, instead turning my gaze back to Leo. “I can’t let you walk out of here. You need to be examined by a doctor—”

  “And I have been examined, have I not?” He tilts his head. “Forgive me, Doctor, but I do believe I witnessed you examining me just a bit too closely a moment ago.”

  Heat rises in my cheeks and the burning moves quickly to my ears—my head seems to be on fire now, but I can’t deny I had taken a moment to appreciate his body. That’s all it was, though—appreciation.

  There’s nothing wrong with that, I tell myself. I might be a doctor, but I’m also human.

  His hands move over his abdomen. “I also seem to be without a shirt. I don’t suppose you had something to do with that, as well?”

  Clearly, the prince is fine, his sense of humor—if you can call it that—having returned almost as quickly as his consciousness.

  I can’t contain my eye roll this time and I shake my head. “Your assistant needs stitches. On his head. Where you hit him with a rock.”

  He lifts a brow and I can only shake my head at him. I walk over to attend to my other patient.

  Leo calls through the curtain. “You know, I wouldn’t have needed to throw a rock if my pursuer would have told me he was following me.”

  Matthias looks up at me with wide eyes, not saying anything in return.

  I examine the wound on his forehead—it isn’t as deep as I had originally thought and I’m able to close it with a butterfly bandage. I finish with Matthias and edge around the curtain to check on Leo again.

  He’s lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at his ankles. He looks over at me with a goofy smile on his face. “You believe I’ve injured my head?”