Cold water. That was what she needed right now. Anything that would stop the persistent fire caused by Austin Mitchell from circulating around her body.
* * *
There was a whoop behind him as Corrine brushed past him as if he didn’t exist. He’d seen it. That little flicker in her eyes. It wasn’t panic. She wasn’t the type. The disbelief he’d almost expected, but hesitation he hadn’t. Was there the tiniest chance she might have said yes?
He shrugged and gave a rueful smile to the other instructors. Adam winked. He knew exactly what was going on. Traditions didn’t just exist amongst Top Gun pilots—WSSA candidates had a whole book of their own.
Frank stood up. ‘Excuse me, folks. Back in a bit.’ His face looked a bit pinched.
Austin watched him head to the gents’. Was he annoyed with him? He moved back and put a twenty on the bar. ‘Get another round,’ he said to Michael.
Michael lifted the twenty and waved to the bartender. ‘Crashed and burned.’ He laughed at Austin. ‘Get used to it. Corrine Carter looked mad.’
Austin stared at the swinging door of the gents’. It was weird. His parents used to tease him as a kid—they’d told him that his spider sense was tingling whenever he’d had an instinct about things. They’d learned quickly he was always right—even when everything seemed fine. It had served him well on his tours of duty and on his test flights. Knowing when something just wasn’t quite right with a plane or mission had saved him on more than one occasion.
And tonight his spider sense was busy creating a full-on web.
He strode towards the gents’. What was the worst that could happen? Frank would tear a few strips off him for his stunt. He was a big boy. He could take it easily.
The door swung open. Frank hadn’t even made it to a cubicle. His hand was leaning on the wall above one of the urinals. Austin quickly averted his eyes—last thing he needed to do was watch another man take a leak.
But his instincts were on overtime. Darn it. He looked again. Frank hadn’t even managed to unzip his trousers. His other hand was resting on his chest.
‘Frank? You okay?’
He made it just in time. The guy’s legs crumpled beneath him and Austin caught him as he made a slow descent to the floor. Frank was no lightweight—he must have been around twenty stone—but Austin could handle it.
He eased him onto the floor and laid him on his back. Hell. What next?
He didn’t have any advanced medical training, just the basic navy first-aid course.
Part of the WSSA training would be about emergency medical situations like this—it seemed he was starting early.
Frank’s colour was terrible, a mixture of translucent and grey, with a slight blue tinge around his lips. Austin bent his head to Frank’s chest, listening and watching for any rise and fall. He pressed his fingers to Frank’s carotid pulse. Nothing. He moved them. Maybe he wasn’t in the right place?
‘I need some help in here,’ he yelled.
He tipped Frank’s head back and steeled himself. Mouth-to-mouth with a guy. Just as well he didn’t have time to think about this. He pinched his nose and covered Frank’s mouth with his, breathing out once and then twice.
The door banged open to his side. He didn’t even look up.
‘What the...?’ Corrine’s voice tailed off immediately.
He could almost see the instant recognition in her eyes and the work-mode focus coming into play. ‘Ambulance, now,’ she shouted over her shoulder before crossing the floor in a few long strides.
She didn’t miss a beat, just hitched up her skirt—giving him a generous shot of thigh—and knelt down beside him. It took her only a few seconds to do her own assessment. Her eyes met his. ‘Right, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, let’s see how good you are.’
* * *
Her heart was thudding against her chest. When she’d heard the call for help she’d moved immediately—even though she hadn’t recognised the voice.
It had a taken a couple of seconds to comprehend the sight of Austin leaning over Frank and kissing him before her medical senses had taken hold.
Frank looked awful. Why hadn’t she noticed anything earlier? Why hadn’t he told her he felt unwell?
Everything was automatic from that point onwards. Airway clear, breathing absent, circulation absent. She pushed aside everything personal. She loved Frank. He was one of the kindest, nicest guys she’d ever worked with. It would be so easy to be emotional. But she couldn’t let herself be. She always had to put a wall between herself and the patient she was treating—it couldn’t be personal. Not in any way at all.
As for Lieutenant Commander Mitchell? She needed a partner in crime right now. And it seemed it would have to be him. None of the other medical staff were here. She was Frank’s best chance and that was all she could focus on.
She positioned herself above the chest, kneeling on the hard floor and crossing her hands one over the other on Frank’s chest. She couldn’t even count how many times she’d done this before.
What she really needed was an oxygen supply, IV access, a defibrillator, cardiac monitoring and a whole host of emergency drugs. What she had was herself and Austin Mitchell. And just how much use could a guy be whose call sign was Bates?
‘We’re going to do thirty to two.’
He blinked and she recognised his confusion.
She started compressions, counting out loud while recognition dawned on Austin’s face. This was as up close and personal as they’d got. His face was only a few inches from hers, positioned opposite and above Frank’s face. There were a few tiny lines around the corners of his eyes. A shadow along his jaw line and dark lashes around his blue eyes.
On an ordinary day the features of Austin Mitchell would be a lot to admire. Today, she couldn’t allow them to distract her.
She got to thirty and stopped for a second. The door swung open as Austin bent automatically to do the two breaths. She had no idea if he had any first-aid experience. But he tilted the head back to the right angle, pinched Frank’s nose and covered Frank’s mouth with his and breathed out at a steady rate.
‘Oh, Frank. No.’ Marcia’s voice was both shocked and scared. Corrine started compressions again, counting in her head. ‘Ask if they’ve got an AED,’ she said automatically. ‘A defib,’ she added.
‘Right.’ Marcia disappeared out of the door only to be replaced by Adam and Blair.
She started counting out loud to prepare Austin for his next stint. ‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.’ She sat back for a second and took a deep breath.
‘Someone find out how long the ambulance will be,’ she directed as Austin finished the breaths and sat back. She started counting out loud again. It didn’t matter that in theory she knew the person doing the compressions should change every two minutes. There was no way she’d let someone who’d never done this before take over from her. Getting the compressions right was important.
‘No defib.’ Marcia’s pale face appeared in the doorway again. Blair put his arm around her shoulder automatically. Adam gave a little shake of his head. ‘I’ll wait outside for the ambulance.’
‘Six minutes,’ came the shout from outside.
Six minutes. She could do that. She was being methodical. Pushing everything else from her brain. This was Frank. The guy with years of experience at WSSA and the most self-deprecating humour. He could find something to joke about even on the darkest of days. But most of all he listened. He’d welcomed her as a new instructor. Shown her all the ropes. Explained the systems, procedures and protocols that could be mind-boggling and sent her in the right direction when things had seemed like a puzzled map of tunnels.
He lived and breathed WSSA. Had done for years. His wife had died of cancer a few years ago and, although he spent his holidays with his grown-up
daughter, he was first at work in the morning and last away at night.
There was no way she was going to have to make that I’m so sorry call to his daughter, Lucy.
She was praying for a coronary—even a massive one with a clot could be dealt with by an angioplasty and stented if necessary. A pulmonary embolism would—at this stage—have probably caused fatal damage. A stroke could be similar.