Free Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) by Kevin George

sizable gash. His face turns several shades whiter and he suddenly has to lean against the nearby truck to keep from falling. My heart sinks at the sight of his injury; it’s hard not to compare this with what just happened to my father.
    “We need to get you to a hospital,” I say.
    “It’s only a flesh wound,” Celeste interrupts. “If any organs were hit, he’d already be dead.”
    I didn’t think it possible but the young man turns even paler. He presses the bloody rag back against his wound but he may as well be trying to stop a running faucet with a sponge. His eyes meet mine and he notices my concern.
    “She’s right, I’m okay,” he assures me weakly. “I don’t have medical insurance, either. And if he presses charges against me, I’m in trouble. If I go to the hospital, they won’t let me participate in my fight this weekend.”
    He turns to walk toward his car but barely takes a few steps before stumbling. I start to rush toward him but Celeste holds up a hand to stop me. She obviously wants him long gone from us – and our many secrets – but I can’t just let him walk away without saying something.
    “You can’t fight anyone in that condition,” I tell him.
    “I have to,” he says, leaning against the truck again. “I just got kicked out of my apartment. I have nowhere to live and no money to my name. Everything I own is in my old clunker parked over there. But if I win my next fight, I could make 300 bucks and I need that money.”
    “It’s none of our business what he does,” Celeste says. “The cops are only a few miles back and they’ll be here soon. We need to figure out what to do with the soldier before anyone shows up.”
    The young man sways again as he lets go of the truck and I refuse to let him collapse. The soldier is still unconscious and Celeste keeps her bow aimed at him anyway. I rush over to the young man and drape his arm around my shoulder before he falls. I’m not so good at comforting or helping the injured and once I catch him, I’m not sure what to do.
    “That bloody rag isn’t doing you any good,” I tell him. “Don’t you have something else that can stop the bleeding?”
    He nods and takes his arm off me. The young man proceeds to remove his black T-shirt and hand it to me. The rest of his torso is just as hard and well-defined as his arms. I can’t help but be distracted for a moment before I start ripping the T-shirt into strips. I’m about to place a piece of cloth against the gash when I see blackness rubbed into my fingers. I look down at his hands and see they’re also covered in grease and soot.
    “Sorry about that,” he mutters. “Something’s always breaking on my old car. My name’s Jack, by the way.”
    “I’m Nia,” I say, which earns me a glare from Celeste.
    I rifle through the ripped strips of cloth until I find the cleanest one – at least clean by comparison to the others. He grimaces as I push the cloth firmly against the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. Pushing against his body is like pushing against a brick wall. A wave of guilt suddenly crashes over me. John has barely been dead for a few hours and I’m already getting this close to another guy. I want to cry when I think of John but I hold myself together since there’s too much to be done.
    “Can we please leave before he wakes up?” Cassie asks, looking uncomfortable being so close to her captor. She backs away a few steps but nearly trips over my bow leaning against the truck.
    “We can’t just leave him here,” Celeste says. “I think we’ve learned that he’ll stop at nothing to find us.”
    I know exactly what she means but this statement finally jars Cassie out of her shocked silence.
    “But why does he want to find us?” she asks. Her usual whiny tone is replaced with one of desperation and I wish we could tell her the truth. “Why would he kidnap me? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
    Celeste’s hardened expression softens