Free Joseph by Kris Michaels Page B

hoping the flat prairie would help her process everything or anything.
    “Pure unadulterated luck. The cartel moves drugs via the interstate system. They have personnel, semi-routes, smaller cargo shipments and safe houses set up to move the drugs. The DEA or state and local drug interdiction officers can’t stop them. The infrastructure and communication are intricate. I’m speculating here, but I assume when Morales figured out you had the information, he put a picture of you out to every one of his familial contacts. They in turn sent it out to the network. Anyone eliminating a problem for Morales would become a very important person.”
    Em’s rational and not-so-rational side collided. A waterfall of emotions cascaded through her mind. The man next to her had just admitted he killed two men—to protect her. Minutes ticked by. Mile after mile of interstate passed. Her mind worried the information the way her teeth chewed at her fingernails. She took a shuddering breath and looked back at him trying to conceptualize the type of man that would or could kill another.
    His black hair seemed darker. No. He had a pallor to his skin tone that wasn’t there earlier. His facial expression showed nothing, but perspiration saturated his shirt collar and beaded his forehead. Red flushed his high cheekbones. A response to physical exertion? True, but it had been at least a half hour since they’d pulled out of the gas station. Joey was a fit male. His heart rate should have stabilized and lowered within minutes of getting into the car. An uneasy concern prompted her forward to get a better look at his pupils. She never made it that far. “Joey?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You’re bleeding.”
    He pulled his coat over his side and nodded. “It is just a scratch, nothing to worry about. We need to put some distance between us and them before we stop again.”
    She reached over and peeled the jacket back. She stuck her forefinger through a hole in the luxurious material above the hip pocket on the right side of his coat. “This looks like a bullet-hole. Joey?”
    “Yeah, for wannabe’s the fucker’s were well armed. The silencer was probably Russian.”
    She grabbed his arm and ordered, “Drive with your left hand.” Pulling the jacket off, she unbuttoned the cuff of his designer shirt. Moving closer, she undid the front buttons and peeled the material away from his ribs. An angry red gash furrowed along his rib and bled freely. Ember lurched over the front seat and grabbed his pack from the back. She pulled a t-shirt out and ripped it in half. Pouring some water from what remained in the bottle, she quickly wiped the area. Rolling the other half of the t-shirt she put it against his wound and placed his hand over the makeshift bandage. “Hold this.”
    Launching over the back seat to her satchel, she pulled out her mini skirt. Ripping it from the zipper to the hem, she turned it and laid it over the bandage. “Sit away from the back of the seat.” Joseph complied as she fed the rolled material around his ribs moving his shirt out of the way as she pulled the roll around. Taking both ends, she tied the cloth tightly over his wound.
    “Damn woman, how am I supposed to breathe?” He adjusted his position and grimaced. She looked at the knotted shirt again to see if she had tightened it too severely. It took a couple of seconds before she realized what she had missed when she had only focused on the grazing wound from the bullet. When reality hit, she gasped.
    He jerked and looked at her at the same time that he pulled the side of his shirt back to cover his body again. “Ember… it isn’t as bad as it looks.”
    Holy heavenly father, she had never seen such massive dermis disruption. Pushing the shirt back again, she held it away from his body. How could he function? The excruciating pain those types of injuries produced were normally treated with massive doses of narcotics. Yet, she’d seen him take nothing. She pushed the