With his other hand he snagged his phone out of his pocket, quickly hitting the pre-programmed 911 number and waiting for the person to pick up.
“Yeah, this is Dr. Beckett Sutherland. I’m on the scene of the shooting I think someone reported on Mills Street.” He paused while the dispatcher asked him some questions. “Yes, gunshots fired. I’m here with the victim in the alley behind Mills and just off Oak.” He listened for a few seconds longer. “Yep, I’m staying on scene and I’ll keep my phone on.”
It was just a few seconds more before the ambulance pulled up on Oak at the head of the vacant lot and two paramedics he recognized from the ER jumped out of the bus. They bustled over, quickly assessed what was going on and Beck helped them get the kid onto the stretcher and into the back of the vehicle.
“You coming with, Doc?” The paramedic riding in back asked just before he swung the doors closed. Beck glanced at the kid’s vitals, not liking the dip in his blood pressure and decided to ride along. He’d call Lucky or Jack to swing by and get his car before it got stripped.
“Sure.” Beck hopped up, sliding in next to the kid and across from the paramedic. He leaned over to get another look at the wound and change out the bandage while the paramedic added some painkillers to the IV drip when he felt the press of something hard against his stomach. Pulling back to move the obstruction, it took him a moment to register what was pointed at him—a gun—a big one. “Jesus.”
“Fuck me!” The paramedic, Andy, jumped back and the sound of his head hitting the cabinet behind him was loud in the small space. The guy driving glanced behind him, his eyes going wide when he saw the gun. He turned, quickly flipping on the radio and giving the code to alert the hospital that they were incoming with an armed passenger but he kept driving.
Beck held up his hands, making sure he made eye contact with the kid and avoiding looking at the gun. He didn’t want to die today. His best friends would be royally pissed that he’d finally succeeded in getting his ass shot, although he thought that their leading theory on his untimely death involved a jealous man and a hot blonde at a hotel.
Hell, he had shit he needed to fix. Things he needed to set straight before he met a God he was quite sure had saved his bacon more than once. And he wanted to make it right with Ginger. The fear of dying with her hating him was cliché but so real it made his heart hurt.
If he was ever going to get the chance to screw things up any more than he already hadhe needed to get this gun pointed at a place other than his head.
“Buddy, I just need to check your wound, no need to make an even bigger hole in me.” The kid just stared at him, lips pressed together with the pain and fear clouding his eyes and most likely his judgment. “Nothing else, I promise.”
The kid kept his eyes locked on Beck’s but nodded his agreement.
Beck leaned over the kid’s leg again, mindful of the gun pointed right at him and praying that his victim didn’t figure out what he was going to do. With deliberate movements he lifted the bandage on the wound, gently palpating the area before nodding up at the paramedic reassuringly while Andy gaped back at him like he had three heads.
“Looks good, right?” Andy nodded dumbly, his glance shooting over every few seconds to the gun pointed at Beck. Beck turned back to his patient. “It looks good but I need to get a new bandage to keep the wound clean. I’m just going to reach across and grab one from that bin marked ‘gauze’, okay?”
The kid flicked a glance over to the bin Beck pointed at and was satisfied enough with what he saw to nod again.
Beck breathed out, reaching across the short distance to pull out the bin and grab a couple of clean bandages. He fussed with getting the bin pushed back in place, enough to allow his hand to brush against the small lever on the IV and push it down, finally allowing the pain meds Andy had begun to administer to flow into the tube that led into the kid’s arm.
Trying to hide the tremors that shook his hands either from fear, adrenaline, or a little of both, Beck let out a breath and waited for the morphine to work its magic.
Chapter Seven
Virginia was glad she worked in a hospital because when she lapsed into a boredom coma she would be in excellent hands.
Hour three and counting of the staff meeting called by Mr. Bent, which had now dwindled down to her, Bent, and Alex Rifkin. Bent had approved the extra security measures for the pharmacy, the firing of two employees who’d failed to pass the drug screening, and now he was onto his favorite topic: the selection of the ER Team Leader.
“I think we’ve all had time to review the files of the two candidates and I say we make our decision,” Bent said as he looked between the two of them, lingering longer on Virginia.
“You know my choice,” Alex said gruffly, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand. “Beck Sutherland is the man for the job. No question.”
Bent lifted his lip in displeasure, his expression saying that he had several questions about who was best for the job. He turned to her, his expression expectant.
“I need more time. I’ve only had a few days to observe the candidates,” Virginia said, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground with her new boss and her probationary status. But she wasn’t ready to make her choice. Her head said to go along with Bent but the rest of her…the rest of her wasn’t sure about anything. “They are both fine doctors”
“I hope that your prior history with Dr. Sutherland isn’t clouding your judgment,” Bent said, his stare cold even with the fake smile plastered on his face.
“Mr. Bent, you hired me to be an independent professional who would always put the needs of the hospital first, and if that means taking a little more time to make the right decision then I will have to insist on getting that time.” What was between Beckett and her now was…complicated. She couldn’t see it being any other way when what she thought she knew about him was challenged at every turn. “And I do insist.”
Bent didn’t like her answer but whatever objection he was going to make was cut off by the knock on his door, which was quickly followed by his assistant popping her head inside the room.
“Pardon me Mr. Bent, but the trauma center alerted us to a situation. They need Mr. Rifkin down there immediately.”
As if on cue, the phone on the table in front of Alex buzzed, and he picked it up, sliding it on and answering with a clipped “Rifkin” before his eyes widened in surprise and then found her own across the table.
Virginia’s belly tightened, her pulse kicked up a couple of beats, and the pen in her hand slid against the perspiration that had appeared there.
“Virginia—”
“What has he done now?” She didn’t need to say his name, she knew the call was about Beckett, and she knew down in her bones that it was bad.
“He’s coming in by ambulance,” Alex held up a hand to stop her inevitable question. “It doesn’t sound like he’s hurt but his patient pulled a gun on him. The cops are on their way.”
“Why would Dr. Sutherland be in the ambulance in the first place? Was he involved in an accident?” Bent asked, his tone conveying that even an accident would somehow be Beckett’s fault.
“He found the victim and called it in from Oak Street,” Alex answered.
“What was he doing over in that area? Nothing but drug dealers and hookers so it’s no surprise that he—”
Alex cut him off and rose from the table, with a nod toward Virginia. “We need to get to the ER.”
Virginia followed him out the door, surprised to find that her breath was already rapid as if she’d been running, and it was hard to get out all the questions circling in her head. What was Beckett doing in a place like that? Why did the victim have a gun? Was Beckett hurt?
The last thought drew her up short, and she skidded to a halt in the hallway, causing Alex to pause beside her.
“As far as we know he’s fine. You can chew his ass when you see him.” He tugged her along, and she didn’t linger on how he’d known what she�
��d been thinking.
They rounded the corner to the ER and the place looked like the ending of one of those post-apocalyptic action movies. Staff was racing around, moving people out of the waiting room and the examination rooms and ushering them down the hall to a safer location. Sheriff Burke stood in the middle of the organized chaos like the calm in the middle of the storm, nodding at Alex as they approached.
“The ambulance will be in here in a couple of minutes. I’ve got the parking lot blocked off and we are diverting traffic to the front of the building.” He turned to face Virginia, tipping his head in the way of older southern gentlemen. “Ms. Crawford, your people have set up a makeshift triage near the front entrance and they’re ready to take any other incoming patients.”
“Call me Virginia.” She stepped forward and got right to the point. “Is he okay? Beckett…I mean Dr. Sutherland.”
“All I know for sure is that the distress call came from the driver, and he didn’t report any additional injuries. If I know Beck, he’ll figure out some way to save his ass.”
“Everyone’s luck has to run out sometime.”
He chuckled softly, “Virginia, that boy has the God-given gift to get into and out of shit that would kill most people. My money’s on Beck.”
Alex started shoving her toward an adjacent office. “Virginia, go into the security room and close the door.” He cut her off when she started to protest. “You can watch everything on the security cameras.”
Before she could react or argue, she was shoved into the room filled with a desk and a bank of five flat screen computer monitors. She lowered herself into a chair and focused on the one that showed her the entrance to the ER and the team of black-clad policemen and women all with weapons aimed at the back of the vehicle.
Tense moments passed as the lead officer barked orders for the occupants to exit the ambulance with hands up within the next sixty seconds. He didn’t say what would happen if they didn’t but it would involve force.
Force equaled guns.
Guns that could hurt the people inside.
Guns that could hurt Beck.
Her hands gripped the edge of the desk and a light sheen of perspiration made the silk of her dress stick to the skin of her back. The sheriff and Alex had joked about him being bulletproof, but she couldn’t laugh about it. The thought of bullets tearing into him, doing so much damage, robbing his body of life, made her blood turn glacial and her heart stop for a couple of beats. Sucking in a deep breath, she worked to steady her spirit—channeling her father and his many Navy SEAL tricks to separate her mind from the panic of the here and now.
Panic was weakness.
Fear was weakness.
And she had a Beckett-shaped soft spot located in a place just under her ribs that made her breath catch with pain as sharp as a razor blade.
The doors at the back of the ambulance flew open with a metallic clang and one lone figure emerged with his hands raised high above his head, a gun dangling from one of them. He hopped out and immediately hit the ground on his knees, hands latched behind his head while he waited for the police to approach.
She’d know that figure anywhere. The longish, shaggy dark hair, the naked torso of sculpted muscle and jeans covered in blood. Those stupid high-top black converse sneakers.
Beckett.
She was up and out of the chair and through the door before she realized what she was doing. Her heels skidded across the polished tile but she made great progress until an arm reached out and snagged her around the waist.
“Hang on there, Virginia. Let the police secure the scene,” Alex’s gruff voice was low in her ear and dropped almost to a whisper, “He’s okay. I think he’s okay.”
Virginia didn’t fight him, but she strained to see what was happening outside. A flurry of activity, someone yelling out “all clear,” and then the standby medical personnel rushing forward to tend to Beck and the victim inside the ambulance.
“I’m fine! Jesus, would you just back off a minute?” Beck entered the ER area through the sliding doors, shoving away the hands of his colleagues trying to examine him. He pushed against the chest of the ER doc coming at him with a blood pressure cuff and laughed. “Seriously, just back off!”
He was laughing. She was scared shitless, and he was joking around and all her relief of a few seconds earlier dissolved and none of her father’s stupid meditations on serenity and calm were able to touch her.
Sheriff Burke came up to his side and clipped him on the shoulder, affection clear in the gesture and his tone of voice. “So, what did you do?”
“I drugged him. Found a chance to open up the morphine port on the IV and knocked his ass out,” Beckett answered, looking over in her direction, taking in the scene of her still clasped against Alex’s chest and his smile faltered a little as her anger rose even higher. He turned away and headed toward his office.
“See I told you, fucking bulletproof,” Alex huffed out on a chuckle as he released her. “I’m going to talk to the cops. I’ll get you a report in a little while.”
Virginia gave a brief nod at his words, her eyes still pinned to Beckett’s retreating back. Blood had seeped into his jeans, turning them a grotesque purple color but the crimson stood out in harsh contrast on his tanned skin.
He retreated into his office, reaching up to pull the long vertical shades shut for privacy but not before he locked eyes with her across the sea of swirling bodies.
Mr. Bent appeared at her side, his eyes scanning the activity with open curiosity. “Ms. Crawford, what happened here?”
“Alex will brief us both in a moment.” She strained around a cluster of nurses for a glimpse of Beckett, desperate to see him. Needing to know he was okay and not just putting on a show. “Pardon me.”
Virginia wove her way between bodies, gurneys, and equipment as the staff rushed to put the ER back together after the drama of the day. She reached the door to his office not even pausing to think before she grabbed and turned the nob.
“Hey!” Beckett looked up at the doorway, his anger morphing into surprise which melted into a cocky grin when he saw who it was. His jeans and shoes were in a pile on the floor and he was pulling up a pair of scrub pants but had only made it to mid-thigh. Virginia couldn’t resist looking, strong muscular legs, a six-pack that would make a Greek God weep, and a delicious bulge hidden behind the cotton of his boxer briefs. He eased the pants the rest of the way up and tied them so that they sat loose and low on his hips, the dragon undulating with each fluid movement. “I know you’ve seen it already but if you wanted another peek, all you had to do was ask.”
She couldn’t respond at all, the words mixing with her anger and fear into a stone that blocked any chance she had to voice her feelings. Virginia advanced forward, straight at him, her blood rushing in her ears from adrenaline or whatever the hell was keeping her upright. She stopped right in front of him, her eyes tracing over every feature of his face, down his neck to his chest and stomach. He was unhurt, not a scrape or a cut on him that she could see but her emotions gained momentum and wailed like a banshee inside her skull when she saw the blood. Swirls of it. Streaks marring his skin and reminding her of just how fucking close he’d come to getting his damn fool head blown off.
He must have seen it in her eyes because Beckett’s grin dimmed, concern taking over as he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “Hey, I’m okay.”
But she wasn’t okay and the thrust of it powered through her and she lifted her hands and shoved him, pushing him back against the edge of his desk. She’d never struck another person in her life, so used to shutting down her emotions, tucking them away and gritting through the emotional roller coaster of her mother’s benders and her father’s manic returns to the homeland. But she wanted to hit him, the only way she knew to communicate this shit storm of crazy in her head. Her hard won control was nothing but a memory.
Beckett blocked her hand as if he’d known it was coming, barely exerting any effort to restrai
n her as she struggled against him.
“What the fuck were you thinking? What were you doing?” She gritted out as he trapped her hands in his own tight grip, pulling her tight against him when she struggled even harder at the confinement. They shuffled backward, her back slamming against the closed door, their exertions rustling the blinds closest to the door and joining the sound of the ER bustling just beyond the panel of wood.
“Damn it Ginger, stop it!” He hissed out, trapping her hands between their bodies as he leaned into her, his face, his mouth less than a breath away from her own. She stared up at him, her lips opening to rail at him, to strip him down for scaring the shit out of her with a stunt like that but he spoke first. “I’m okay.”
His voice was a low, deep, reassuring balm against her frazzled nerves but she needed more. Needed more than words.
She kissed him. Soft and light. A quick brushonce, twice, a third timeenough to feel his warmth and taste his flesh. To know he was alive.
Beckett pulled back first, his gaze penetrating as he analyzed her, figuring out just where this thing was going. Virginia licked her lower lip, tasting him there and biting back a groan but not the tiny whimper that escaped her mouth. At that sound, Beckett’s jaw tightened, the edge in his eyes honing to a fine point of focused desire and decision and she shivered a little under his scrutiny.
He transferred both of her wrists into the grip of one hand and lifted them over her head, effectively pinning them there against the smooth, cool wood. The movement brought their bodies in full contact
from the hard length of his thigh inserted in between her own, to the granite-hard muscles of his chest pressed against her full, aching breasts.
She watched him like a hawk, even though she felt more like prey as he drank her in, taking his time to review every square inch of her before he returned to gaze into her eyes with a look so hot, she flinched from it, trying to shrink back from the passion it represented.
Southerin Nights and Secrets (Boys are Back in Town) Page 6
