"We need to get him up the hill," Dawn said, her voice leaving no room for argument.
O'Malley nodded, though he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Yes, Miss."
They hoisted Jennings up. He hissed in pain as his broken leg dragged over a root. Dawn winced in sympathy but didn't stop.
"Keep the leg straight," she ordered. "Don't let it twist."
It took them five minutes to scramble up the embankment. By the time they reached the road, Dawn's lungs were burning, and her silver dress was ruined, stained black with oil and red with blood.
Catrina was standing by the open door of the Lincoln, holding an umbrella over herself. She took one look at the bloody mess they were dragging toward her and shrieked.
"Oh my god! Don't bring him here! Look at him!"
Jennings, despite his condition, turned his head. His eyes narrowed at the woman screaming.
"Open the door, Catrina," Dawn said.
"No!" Catrina blocked the entrance. "He's bleeding everywhere! He'll ruin the upholstery! And think of the liability, Dawn! If he dies in our car, we'll be sued! We should just call 911 and leave."
Jennings let out a dry, dark chuckle that turned into a cough. "Liability," he muttered.
Dawn stopped. She let O'Malley take Jennings's weight for a second. She walked up to Catrina. She was shorter than her cousin, and barefoot, but in that moment, she loomed.
"Catrina," Dawn said, her voice low and dangerous. "If you don't move, I will send Aunt Eleanor the video of you and the senator's aide from last summer's polo match. The one you paid the stable boy to delete."
Catrina froze. Her hand went to her throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then let's test that theory. Get in the front seat. Now," Dawn said. "And I'll also tell her about the money you skimmed from the charity fund last month."
Catrina's face went white. "You know about that?"
"I know everything," Dawn lied. She didn't know about the fund specifically, but people like Catrina always skimmed. It was a safe bet.
Catrina scrambled into the front passenger seat without another word.
"Back seat," Dawn told O'Malley.
They maneuvered Jennings into the spacious rear cabin. Dawn climbed in after him. There was barely enough room for his legs. She had to sit on the floor, kneeling beside him.
"O'Malley, go," she said. "West Wing entrance. The service road. No lights."
"Understood."
The car pulled away. Dawn immediately went to work. She ripped the hem of her dress-silk was strong, good for binding. She tied a tourniquet above the gash on his thigh.
"This is going to hurt," she warned.
"Do it," Jennings gritted out.
She tightened the knot. His body seized, every muscle locking up. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard enough to bruise bone.
Dawn didn't pull away. She let him anchor himself to her. She watched his face, monitoring his pain levels.
"You're a doctor," he said, his voice tight. It wasn't a question.
"I was," she corrected. "Now I'm just a liability."
He looked at her, really looked at her, through the haze of pain. "You're not a liability," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut as the shock began to set in. "You're an asset."
