Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Gustavo took a step closer, like he wanted an up-close view of the proceedings. “No, Señor,” I said with a shake of my head. “We’ll need to concentrate. And with your condition, you should be sitting down and keeping cool.”
Gustavo’s nostrils flared, and he clapped his hands. “Luis, Rodrigo! You heard the man! Help me into throne position, or I shall die! Teresa! ¡Enfriarme!”
A woman I assumed must be Teresa—or had decided to respond to that name, anyway—grabbed a fan and began waving it at him.
Riggs leaned close as he pretended to help me apply some gauze and a Tegaderm patch to Mullet’s leg. “We need to get out of this place,” he whispered. “Now, while we’re out of our rooms and Santiago’s got the guards distracted. If we follow the river on the west side of the property, it’ll lead us down the mountain. I saw it from my window. We can send someone back for this guy.”
“Send them back?” Mullet Dude squeaked. “Aw, come on!”
I shook my head at Riggs. “We can’t leave him.” I nodded at Mullet Dude. “They might kill him.”
Mullet Dude pointed a finger at me. “Good call, Doc. Smart choice.”
“Then I’ll put him over my shoulder,” Riggs whispered. “I’ll carry him down.”
“Ohhhh,” Mullet Dude said. “Even better choice. I’m with you, big guy.”
“You’re gonna carry him down the mountain and… what?” I hissed as softly as I could. “Keep carrying him for ten hours over hard terrain until we can get to a big city?”
Riggs ground his teeth together.
“You know what? You make a compelling point, Doc. That doesn’t sound comfortable at all,” Mullet Guy agreed. “I’m back on Team Doctor.”
I rolled my eyes at him, then tilted my head to one side and stared at Riggs. “You said yesterday that the smartest thing to do was wait for reinforcements, right? That’s why we haven’t already busted out of here? So let’s get on the Horn, make sure the reinforcements are on their way, and wait for them.”
“That was the smartest plan before,” Riggs began. He returned my stare, and I couldn’t begin to guess at the thoughts flying behind his eyes. “Carter, I can’t—”
“Please,” I whispered. “I know you want to do this by the book, but I couldn’t help Marisol’s grandmother. I need to make sure he doesn’t exacerbate this injury, Riggs.”
Riggs made a frustrated noise. “Fine. Fine. But if we’re staying, you’ll do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it.”
I nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“I don’t believe you even a little,” Riggs grumbled. “You know, honesty is critical on a mission like this.”
“I’m being honest. I’ve been honest. Trust me, Riggs,” I begged.
I wasn’t sure if Riggs knew I wanted him to trust me about so much more than just staying behind.
But either way, he sighed and reluctantly nodded, which was when all hell broke loose on the other side of the kitchen.
“Doctor!” Teresa called. “¡Ayúdalo!”
I turned my head to see Santiago slumped over in his chair. Jesus. What now?
I grabbed my medical bag and hurried across the room just as Luis and Glasses got Santiago stretched out on the tile floor. Lucrecia took a cushion from a kitchen chair to use as a pillow for him.
“Shit. Pupils are dilated.” I got out the blood pressure cuff. “Seventy-two over forty,” I muttered to myself. “He’s fainted,” I told Glasses. “Get him up to his bed.”
Glasses nodded, and I sent a quick, apologetic glance over my shoulder at Riggs. Even if he wanted to second-guess the decision not to escape, now he couldn’t. But I couldn’t very well leave Gustavo passed out on the floor.
Riggs nodded once, like he’d come to the same conclusion I had, and the simple gesture filled me with warmth.
I followed Glasses up the stairs to Gustavo’s room, where they laid him out on the bed. Lucrecia and Teresa hurried in behind us.
While I got out the portable EKG machine, Lucrecia ran a hand over Gustavo’s forehead.
“Ay, pobre Gian—uh… Gustavo.”
I frowned. Why did people keep saying that. Was that some kind of Venezuelan respect thing? Was his name Gian-Gustavo? I wondered if Riggs knew.
By the time I got the EKG monitor hooked up, my patient was already coming around, and his blood pressure had risen slightly. I asked Glasses to get him some strong coffee and bottled water, as well as a snack.
“Doctor?” Gustavo asked weakly.
“Right here,” I told him. “Your blood pressure went quite low and you fainted—”
“Ah, my heart!” he began. “I always knew—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Señor, this was not from your heart. Your heart is in good condition. Your EKG results look quite normal. This was a type of low blood pressure called orthostatic hypotension, and no—” I held up a hand before he could get excited about this new diagnosis. “—it’s not caused by a faulty heart, but by something as simple as spending too much time in bed.” I gave him a reproving look. “How much time have you been spending here?”