The Promise by Dee Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

lost him?
    He reached out, covering her hand with his. "It's all
right. I know how. I'll guide you."
    She bit her lower lip and nodded. She could do this.
A man's life depended on it. Michael's life depended on it.
"Okay. I'm just going to go get some bandages and things."
    Pulling her hand away from his, she hurried into the
bathroom. Throwing open the doors to the medicine cabinet, she
searched among the antacids and cold remedies for something that
could treat a gunshot wound. A bubble of laughter rose in her
throat. Pepto Bismol was a poor substitute for anesthesia.
    Oh, God, she prayed, help me.
    Clamping down on her rising hysteria, she forced
herself to focus on the assortment of containers in front of her.
Alcohol, that was important. She picked up the bottle. What else?
She grabbed a tube of Neosporin, feeling a lot like a fireman
fighting a raging forest fire with a squirt gun. Pain killer. She
needed a pain killer. The best she could do was a bottle of Advil,
but something was better than nothing.
    Reaching for the analgesic, she spied a prescription
pill bottle. She picked up the plastic container. Antibiotics. They
were probably old. A refill she'd never used. They'd have to do.
She grabbed the pills along with the Advil, adding them to the
things already in her hand. In her haste, she dropped the lot.
    The alcohol bottle bounced against the wooden floor,
but didn't break. The tube of antibiotic landed near the wall. The
pill bottles rolled into a corner. Grabbing a basket of potpourri
from the back of the toilet, she dumped the contents into the bowl.
Then, on hands and knees, she retrieved the bottles, placing
everything in the basket.
    Her breath was coming in ragged gasps now and tears
threatened. She had to calm down.
    Standing with the basket clutched in one hand, she
pushed aside bottles and tubes, discarding the metal box of
Band-Aids when she came to it. Hardly adequate for the job at hand.
Finally, in the back of the cabinet, she found a roll of gauze and
some tape. Tossing them in the basket, she turned, her gaze falling
to the counter.
    A pair of tweezers lay by the sink. She swallowed
back a wave of queasiness. She'd need something to pull out the
bullet. Throwing them in with the rest, she grabbed a pillow case
and a wash cloth from the linen closet and headed for the
kitchen.
    She needed a knife. Wrenching open a drawer, she
surveyed her pitiful collection of cutlery. Never much of a cook,
her array of knives was sadly lacking. Selecting the best of the
lot, she threw a paring knife into the basket and grabbed a bottle
of water from the counter on her way back to the bedroom.
    She stopped in the doorway, trying to compose
herself. The situation was dire enough without adding her panic.
Breathing deeply, she crossed to the bed. His eyes were closed
again and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She placed the basket
on the bedside table and sat on the bed beside him. "Michael?" His
eyes opened. "You've got to tell me what to do."
    He nodded. "Did you get a knife?"
    She held up the paring knife. "It's the best I could
find."
    He reached for it and ran a thumb across the blade, a
flicker of laughter passing across his face. "If you want to butter
me, this might do, but I don't think it'll actually cut
anything."
    She flushed. "I don't have anything else."
    "You can use mine." He pointed at a small leather
pouch hooked to his belt.
    With shaking hands, she unhooked the flap holding it
in place, and withdrew a tiny knife. Balancing it in her palm, she
examined it more closely. It was beautifully wrought. The handle
was ivory in color and striated with gray and black. The blade
itself was polished brass or some similar metal. It was flat on one
side and intricately carved on the other with interlocking circles
and curls.
    "It's a sgian dubh."
    "A what?"
    "Sgian dubh. It's Gaelic."
    "Skeen doo." She pronounced the strange words
slowly.
    "That's it. Sgian dubh. It means black knife. This
one is very old.