Читать книгу Toxic Terrain - Don Pendleton - Страница 2

A pair of green eyes peered at him from over a hospital face mask. Kristen Kemp sewed the last stitches into his shoulder and said, “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In my clinic.”

Bolan sat up and tried to collect his thoughts. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“About an hour,” she said.

Bolan remained silent, contemplating the likelihood that they’d been followed.

Kemp put her hands on Bolan’s shoulders and tried to get him to lie back down. “You should rest.”

“We’re not safe here,” Bolan said.

“Grassy Butte has two hundred and fifty people, and I know every last one of them. No one’s going to harm us here,” she said as she covered his wounds with sterile bandages.

“Whatever you thought you knew about this place changed the moment we got shot at yesterday,” he told her. “Something big is going on here—and it’s damned dangerous.”

Before Kemp could respond, Bolan saw the shadow of a man holding what could only be a gun outlined in the window. He grabbed Kemp’s shoulders and flipped her over him, as automatic gunfire tore through the walls of the clinic.

Hurling himself on top of her, Bolan had just one more question. “Where are my weapons?”