brows. More of the silt filtered down onto all three of them, and she swallowed hard, shoving down the fear that skittered down her back again at the thought of being buried alive.
The last of the coat and clothing was cut off, and they were both finally able to see the jaggedly ripped and bleeding flesh of the victim’s forearm. While she couldn’t see the bone beneath it, there was no doubt this was a compound fracture. Which meant the bleeding had to be stopped and the arm stabilized while trying not to jar the broken pieces in the process.
The medic’s eyes met hers, and what she saw there telegraphed loud and clear that he knew as well as she did that if the bones got moved the wrong way, they risked an artery being torn, which would turn a bad situation worse.
He took the flashlight from his teeth and tucked it under his chin. “You still got his arm steady? I’m going to wrap it.”
“Yes. You can let go. I have a book in my purse. We can use it as a splint.”
He glanced up, his intense eyes meeting hers again. “I have a magazine folded in my coat pocket. I’ll use both to stabilize the arm after I get the bleeding stopped, so leave the book, then go.”
Ignoring his comment the way he’d ignored hers earlier, she watched him carefully lay a piece of his shirt on top of the bleeding wound, then lift his hand, apparently planning to press down on it.
“Don’t do that, you’ll dislodge the bones!” she said. “We need to be as careful as possible not to cause further damage. Putting pressure on it isn’t a good idea. A tourniquet is a better option to try first.”
“I realize that a lowly EMT knows little compared to you, Dr. Davenport,” he drawled, emphasizing the word doctor as he continued to work quickly, wrapping a strip of torn shirt around either end of the cloth bandage. “But I know a lot more about field medicine than you do and I have the technique down pat.”
Surprise that he knew her name was quickly replaced by serious annoyance as his nearly amused tone started to really tick her off. She opened her mouth to retort that an ER doctor was fully trained in all kinds of emergencies. Until that emotion and her words dried up fast as she watched the remarkable efficiency and competency he showed as he tied off a makeshift tourniquet, then held the victim’s legs up with one arm as he grabbed his now filthy coat from the ground to pull out a magazine.
All right, she had to admit it, but not to this autocratic male. While she worked hard to be the best doctor she could be, this guy had her beat when it came to this kind of emergency, working without all kinds of medical supplies and the equipment she always had available at her fingertips.
“This is probably going to hurt, so hang on,” he said to the patient. “You doing okay?”
“O-Okay,” the man said on a gasp that turned into a groan as the medic slowly and carefully straightened his arm. He then curved the magazine beneath the man’s elbow.
“Can you—?”
“Yes.” She reached to cup her hands underneath to hold it in place as he worked to secure it with strips of his shirt. The patient moaned, and Miranda leaned closer. “I’m sorry, sir. I know it hurts, but the hospital’s close by. As soon as we get the wound secured, we’ll get you out of here. You’re going to be fine, and getting meds to help with the pain really soon.”
“Where’s that book?” the medic asked, never pausing as he knotted the strips and reached for another.
“Here.” With one hand, she slid her bag from her shoulder and reached in to fish out the book. “I’ll place it under his wrist when you’re done.”
A quick nod as he finished up with the magazine, then suddenly lifted his eyes to hers. The quick grin he sent, along with a smile in that brown gaze, took her totally by surprise, and for some ridiculous reason made her heart beat little harder. Apparently helping him had taken her off his list of highly irritating things. For the moment, at least.
“I’m sorry, I should know, but what’s your name?” she heard herself ask, suddenly needing to know.
“Mateo Alves. This is John, and his dog, Benny, ran in here after the collapse, which is why John came down here in the first place. He’s a fast one for a shorty dog, but I’ll find him. And I already know you’re Miranda Davenport. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, except you shouldn’t have come in here to begin with.”
“Too bad. There’s nothing falling now, so we’re probably safe.” She knew she sounded a little breathless, which was probably due to the silt in the air and not at all to the fact that she’d fantasized about the über-handsome EMT more than once in the ER. During those times, they’d all been busy treating patients, so there hadn’t been time to spend more than a brief moment staring at him, and now wasn’t a good time either. Except she found that, for what felt like a long moment of connection between them, she was staring at him anyway.
“Yeah, well, that could change in one second.”
She glanced up, gulping at that reality. To cover her worries, she threw out a tart response. “Aren’t you going to admit that both of us working on John’s arm has been faster than you doing it alone, and better for him?”
“Maybe.” Another quick flash of teeth.
“I’m going to put the book under his forearm now.”
“Wait. I want to cover the wound better first.”
Her rapt attention on his handsome features was interrupted when he frowned and paused in his work on the wrist splint. She looked down and saw that he’d used every scrap of fabric from his torn shirt.
“Give me your scarf.”
“Oh. That’s a good idea,” she said, wishing she’d thought of it. She slipped it from her neck and handed it to him. “And I can cut the bottoms off my pants, too, if we need them.”
That flash of grin. “What do you think, John? How often do you have a woman offering to rip her clothes off for you?”
“Not often enough.” A weak smile accompanied his words, then disappeared again. “My dog. My Benny. I haven’t heard him bark.”
“Probably too scared to bark. But I have a surefire way to call dogs—you’ll see. Right now, though, we have to get you out of here without jostling your arm any more than necessary. Dr. Davenport?”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you up on the offer of your pants. Don’t worry, I won’t cut any above your knees.” That sexy smile again. “But that fabric is a lot better than my jeans to finish securing the splint, since I’m going to use your scarf as a sling to keep it still.”
“That makes sense.” Of course he’d need a sling, and she thrashed herself that it hadn’t occurred to her. Thank God none of her siblings or father could see her. She’d spent the last thirteen years trying to make them proud of her, to earn their respect, and right now she felt totally inept.
She reached for the knife and pushed the point into the knit material. It went in easily, even as she inwardly cringed at the thought of accidentally jabbing herself in her own calf. And being that kind of wimp proved even more that Mateo was absolutely right—he was definitely better at this field medicine stuff than
