Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Where’s that sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes?” Mable asks as I unhook her catheter bag.

  “In my bed,” I quip. “How are you feeling? One to ten.”

  “Five,” she answers immediately, hissing as she shifts on the bed. “Are you going to tell me about Dallas or not?”

  “Vegas,” I correct her, laughing. “Do you have a thing for cowboys, Mable?”

  She gives me an impish grin. “A man who prefers to straddle a horse rather than me isn’t top of my want list, dear.”

  I fold over with laughter, nearly dropping the bag full of pee. “You’re a wicked old lady.”

  “Age won’t take that away from me, young girl.”

  I look around at the rest of the patients in Mable’s bay, all elderly, either sleeping or looking as miserable as you would expect someone who’s stuck in a hospital to be. Mable is a refreshing change. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” I say as one of the catering girls rounds the corner with the trolley.

  “Well, until this damn hip starts playing ball, I ain’t going nowhere, my love.”

  I do a quick mental rewind through all the updates I’ve had today. “Hey, did anyone collect you for your X-ray yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  I look down at my watch. “It’s a bit late now. Let me chase it up for you. Here’s your supper.”

  “Oh, joy,” she mutters, flipping a hand to her wheelie table. I push it toward her and watch with a smile as she grimaces at the tray.

  “Bon appétit,” I call, heading back to the nurses’ station.

  After disposing of Mable’s pee and giving the empty bag to a health care assistant to hook back up, I take a seat at the computer and load Mable’s file, then call the X-ray department. “Same old,” I mutter when I get no answer, hanging up as Susan appears, looking a bit harassed, her round face red. “Everything okay?” I ask as she leans past me to collect a pen.

  “Just a difficult visitor,” she huffs. “It’s not hard. Visiting times are two till four. I don’t know what makes some people think the rules don’t apply to them.” She jots something down on a pad and tosses it back on the desk.

  “Would you like me to have a word?” I ask, getting up from my chair. Susan isn’t exactly the most diplomatic, and while most people respect her authority, the odd person questions it. Susan doesn’t like being questioned.

  She looks at me with a telling expression. “Do you think the ignorant swine will listen to you?”

  “Worth a try, right?”

  “Go on then.” She nods down the ward. “Bay two, bed four.”

  “That’s Percy’s bed.” The old boy was admitted after a massive heart attack, and on top of that, he’s losing his marbles, bless him. And the raging bladder infection he has isn’t helping.

  “Yes, and Percy’s son is a nasty little so-and-so.”

  I head for bay two and run into Rich, one of the hospital porters, as he rounds the corner with an empty wheelchair. “Hey.”

  He beams at me, his tall, lanky body bent over the wheelchair as he pushes it along. “You’re back, and you look like shit.”

  Reaching up to my hair, I tuck it behind my ears. I’m too beat to care what I must look like. This shift has been like a baptism by fire. “It’s great to be back,” I chirp, full of feigned enthusiasm. “Who are you here for?”

  He looks down at his clipboard. “Mable Loake. X-ray.”

  “Oh, great. I was just chasing that. She’s bay four, bed one.” I point down the ward. “But she’s just eating her dinner.”

  “No problem.” He wheels the chair off, grumbling something about having the day from hell. Join the club, I think, carrying on my way.

  As soon as I round the corner, I spot a man in the chair beside Percy’s bed, maybe midforties, and his scowl backs up Susan’s gripe. We have a tricky customer. “Hi there, Percy,” I chirp, focusing on my patient for now, approaching to find him poking at a chicken sandwich. He glances up at me blankly, and I immediately know that today is a bad day. “How are you feeling?” I ask, looking up to his drip, seeing another bag of antibiotics has been administered. He can’t seem to kick this infection. I take a quick peek at the readings on his heart monitor, not liking his erratic heart rate, and take his temperature as I check his charts.

  “How does he look like he’s feeling?” his son pipes up, standing from his chair. “You feed him shit like this”—he takes the sandwich from his father’s plate and throws it down with force—“and scratch your fucking head when he shows no signs of improvement.”

  “Sir, there’s no need to swear,” I say calmly and diplomatically, looking down at the thermometer to find that Percy’s temperature is dangerously high. “Wow, Percy, that’s shot up quickly.”

  “What do you expect with subquality care?”

  I inwardly wince, gritting my teeth. “Your father is receiving the best care, sir. And visiting hours are now finished,” I say tactfully, forcing a smile at him.

  “Yes, so I’ve been told,” he snaps. “I know how these places work. Throw out the relatives before you serve this crap so we don’t see the shit you feed our loved ones.” He flicks a big hand out and sends Percy’s supper flying across the bed. It bounces off my thigh before it hits the floor, and I jump back, startled.

  “Sir, please.” I stoop and blindly collect up the remnants of his father’s sandwich from the floor as I look at the monitor, noting the quickening of Percy’s heart.

  “And I bet that dirty sandwich finds its way from the floor back onto the plate.”

  “I’ll order him a fresh one,” I assure him, rising and coming face-to-face with the arrogant arsehole. I step back, not liking his big body looming over me, pushing me into a corner.

  I’m safe in a hospital, I tell myself, over and over again, trying not to display the anxious vibes that have sprung up on me. “You need to move so I can tend to your father. His temperature is very high and his heart rate is very erratic.” I fill my voice with all the authority I can muster, pushing my way past him to tend to Percy. “Percy?” I say, finding his eyes are closed. “Percy, can you hear me?” He’s slipped into unconsciousness. “Percy?” I reach for the emergency call button, but my arm is grabbed, and I look back to find Percy’s son snarling at me. I wrench my arm from his grip with a hiss of mild pain, now seething mad that he would hinder my attempts to care for his father. “Get your hands off me,” I grate as I shove him aside and press the call button. I take Percy’s wrist and check his pulse.

  “What’s going on?” his son asks.

  “He’s having another heart attack.” Just as I say that, Percy’s monitor alarms start going wild.

  “Shit,” I whisper, dashing off to get the defibrillator, hearing Percy’s son shouting behind me, demanding to know what’s going on. “Pam!” I yell, grabbing the cardiac arrest trolley and wheeling it back to Percy’s room, Pam hot on my heels. “Percy’s arrested,” I say urgently, unraveling the leads on the machine as Pam cuts up the center of Percy’s gown, exposing his chest.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” his son demands, close by my side. I turn and bump into him, dropping the wires. God damn it, he’s getting in my way. “Tell me!”

  I’m fucking furious that he’s stopping me from doing my job. Be cool, Izzy. I quickly collect up the wires and connect them before I turn to him, my eyes blazing, my jaw ticking madly. But I speak calmly. “Your father’s heart needs a shock to reset it. You’re in our way. Please move.”

  He snarls, but he doesn’t retaliate, so I return to the monitor of the machine. “Clear,” I shout, checking that Pam is away before I press the shock button. Percy jolts, and Pam immediately starts CPR. “Nothing,” I mumble, looking up to see Percy’s face, now as white as a sheet.

  A burst of activity breaks out behind me, and we’re joined by the cardiac arrest team. “Two rounds of compressions,” I tell them as I step back, giving them room to take over CPR and the defibrillator. “Low pulse and one shock admini
stered.”

  They take over and work on Percy calmly and swiftly while I fill them in on his vital signs, and Pam tries to coax his son from the room. The man is having none of it, shouting and hollering until I’m forced to call security to remove him. They arrive quickly, escorting Percy’s son from the ward with his arm up his back as he continues to shout and holler. “I’ll have you fired!” he yells, squirming to break free. “All of you!”

  Adrenaline is racing through me as I wander out of the room, straightening out my dress and retying my hair. I meet Susan at the doorway, and she looks at me in question. “Heart attack,” I mumble.

  She sighs, linking arms with me and leading us away from the bay, leaving the arrest team to continue working on Percy. “Good work, Izzy,” she says when we reach her office.

  “I only went to ask his son to leave,” I say, dropping into a chair at Susan’s desk. “Welcome back, Izzy.”

  Susan smiles a little as she takes up a seat opposite me and pulls some papers from a tray. “He was fine when I checked on him. Temperature average, heart rate steady.”

  “His son was a total arsehole.” I shake my head, as shocked by his behavior as I am by Percy’s fast decline. “God, this has been the longest day ever.”

  Susan nods her agreement, looking down at her clock. “You can go home soon.”

  “One hour and counting,” I say, just as Pam pokes her head around the door. The look on her face tells me everything, and my heart sinks. It’s moments like this that sometimes make me forget why I love my job. “Thanks, Pam,” I say on a sigh as I drag myself up from the chair. I give Susan a sad smile. “I need tea. Can I get you a cup?”

  “Please.” Susan points down at her desk. “I’ll get this paperwork done while I’m here.”

  I nod and follow my feet to the hot drinks machine, making two cups and stirring extra sugar into mine. And as I head back to Susan’s office, Percy gets wheeled past, his old friendly face concealed by a white sheet. I lower my head in respect and say a silent prayer for Percy, feeling like a complete failure.

  * * *

  I drag my feet through the ward at the end of my shift, stopping to check on Mable before I leave. She’s dozing, but a quick check of her consultant’s notes tells me he isn’t happy with the X-ray, her broken hip bone showing no signs of repairing without the need for last-resort surgery. It’s just one more thing to feel glum about. I was so hoping she wouldn’t have to have such an invasive operation.

  I plod on my way, struggling to keep myself upright after my first long and mentally challenging shift. If I could have slept for a week this morning, then now I feel like I could hibernate for the winter. My bed is calling the loudest it ever has. Pulling the collar of my coat up and rearranging my bag on my shoulder, I round the corner onto the main corridor of the hospital, my already slow steps slowing further when I see Theo walking toward me. The sight of him resurrects me a little, and I come to a gradual stop, as does Theo, a few empty meters between us. He’s suited in gray, his brown hair a sexy mess, his stubble short and covering his jaw evenly. His bright cobalt eyes dull a smidgen as he takes me in, a worried frown marring his perfect face. Jesus, I must look a fright. The last time he saw me I was dressed to the nines before he stripped me and made my world explode into a passion-induced haze. It’s quite a contrast.

  His thick thighs spread a little in his standing position, his head cocked to the side.

  “Hey.” I barely have the energy to even speak.

  “Hey,” he whispers, his lips pouting in thought. “You okay?”

  “Tough shift,” I tell him on a deep sigh. “You?”

  “Let’s not worry about me.” He opens his arms, and I walk straight into them, keeping my hands in my pockets, despite knowing he’ll be fully prepared for my touch should I wrap my arms around him. But I don’t have the energy, no matter how happy I am to see him. His big arms encase me, holding me to his solid body, and it’s without question the most comforting place I’ve ever been. His unique scent, the warmth of his body, and the feel of his lips on the back of my head. It’s all so soothing. I don’t even have the strength to wonder how he makes me feel so at home, when in reality I’m in the strangest place I’ve ever been. “Let me look after you tonight,” he says above me, his big hand stroking over my hair. “I’ll take you home to collect some things and you can stay with me.”

  “I’m hardly lively,” I joke, his tenderness and the feel of him so welcome.

  “I don’t care.” He pushes me from his chest and gazes down at me, a mild smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just stay with me.” The pad of his finger meets my cheekbone and grazes down to my chin, and I nod, a refusal not even entering my head. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. “Callum is waiting out front.” Theo slides his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side, starting to walk us out of the hospital. His pace is slow and considerate, allowing me to take my time, my head resting on his shoulder.

  When we reach the café near the entrance of the hospital, Theo points to the counter. “Drink?” he asks.

  “I’d love a coffee.” I don’t want to fall asleep on him.

  “I’ll get you one. Go get in the car.” He nods toward the doors before heading for the counter, and I smile as the lad serving instinctively steps back, his eyes widening at the size of the male approaching. Not for the first time, I wonder where that wariness is in me.

  Wandering into the fresh air, I’m hit by the wind and shiver. I scan the cars for Callum, surprised to find him nowhere in sight. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I rush over to a concealed doorway for shelter from the biting wind, remaining close to the edge so I can spot Theo when he emerges from the hospital.

  I send Jess a quick message to tell her I’m staying at Theo’s, looking up when I notice a shadow in my downcast vision.

  I step back, going from sleepy to alert in a heartbeat. Percy’s son is scowling at me, his chest heaving violently. “He’s dead, and it’s your fault,” he spits, grabbing the front of my coat and shoving me back into the door behind me. I yelp. “My father is dead because of your incompetence.” He tugs me forward and slams me back again, knocking the wind from me.

  “Get your hands off of me!” I shout, grappling at his grip on my coat and shoving him away. Survival instinct kicks in, as well as anger. The anger is hot, so hot it melts the panic. But he’s lost his father. I need to remember that. No matter how much of an arsehole he is, I must remember that. I wrestle my bag onto my shoulder. “If you have a complaint, I suggest you contact the hospital. I was just doing my job.”

  He laughs, and it is one hundred percent sarcastic. “Your job?” Prodding me in the shoulder, he moves in, crowding me. “He was—” His eyes go like saucers, and he starts gasping for air, his hands reaching to his neck. It’s only then that I see fingers wrapped around his throat, and he starts staggering back clumsily, choking, the color draining from his face. Oh fuck.

  I force my feet to move forward, looking up over Percy’s son’s head, finding an expression of pure, frightening rage. Oh shit. “Theo!” I yell, following him as he drags the man around the corner and slams him into a wall. “Theo, stop.”

  He holds him against the bricks by his neck, looking murderous, and though I knew he has a nasty side, I don’t think I truly appreciated how nasty. I dare not try to pull him away, aware that he’s blinded by fury and won’t be prepared for my touch. I’m helpless, standing to the side, seeing him squeeze tighter around Percy’s son’s throat as he pushes his face up close, his jaw ticking. “I don’t know who the fuck you are—”

  “He’s the son of a patient,” I blurt urgently, praying the information sinks past Theo’s fog of anger. “Theo, stop!”

  He doesn’t stop, but instead slams him into the wall. “The sign you’ve seen, the one hanging on every wall of that hospital, the one stating that abuse toward staff will not be tolerated. Tell me you saw it.” Theo leans in as Percy’s son nods as best he can w
ith a huge palm choking him. “Well, there’s another sign, one you didn’t see. It’s an unwritten rule. Want to know what it says?”

  Good God, a normal Theo is scary enough. An angry Theo is plain terrifying. For the first time since I’ve met him, he’s making me anxious. What is he capable of? Percy’s son nods again, terror pooling in his watery eyes, to the point I’m actually feeling sorry for him.

  “That rule,” Theo breathes across his face, “says if anyone lays a finger on my woman, the consequences will be grave. Want to know what the consequences are?”

  Theo’s taunting him, prolonging his pain and his fear. He’s getting a kick out of it, relishing the sight of his victim’s distress.

  “Instant death,” Theo whispers, keeping hold of him with one hand and reaching to his back with the other. He pulls out his gun and aims it square at the man’s forehead, pulling back a lever that locks with a loud click.

  Oh my God.

  “Theo!” I shout, moving back, instinctively scanning the surrounding area for witnesses. There’s no one; the place that Theo has dragged the man to is deserted, which I now realize was intentional. “Theo, please.” I whirl around when I hear thundering footsteps behind me, finding Callum rounding the corner and bolting toward us. “Callum, stop him!”

  He takes in the situation, his long legs slowing. “Theo, man, come on. Put the gun away,” he says, moving in slowly and cautiously. “Deep breaths, my man. Deep breaths.” Callum’s voice is soft, soothing, and it seems to be breaking through Theo’s haze of rage. “Be cool, Theo. Just be cool.”

  A few worrying seconds pass as I hold my breath, silently willing Theo to listen to Callum, before he eventually pulls the gun from Percy’s son’s forehead and lowers it to his side. But he still has him nailed to the wall with his spare hand, though he must have lessened his grip a little, because his prisoner starts gasping.