Stronger With Us (The Strength Series Book 3)

by JA Hensley

  “Charging to 120,” I say as I hand the paddles to Doctor Andersen. He’s my favorite doc to work with here in the ER.

  “Clear!” he shouts as he presses the paddles to the patient’s chest and shocks her heart. We all stop and look at the monitor, hoping to see a steady, regular rhythm. What we get is a flat line and alarms. “Charge again to 150,” is the order and I adjust the machine. We do this several times, increasing the joules to 200. When that doesn’t work we try injecting epinephrine while Jonathan performs CPR. All of a sudden the cardiac monitor beeps.

  “Hold compressions,” Dr. Andersen says and again, everyone freezes. There’s another beep and another, and finally the patient has a regular heartbeat. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to move things out of the way so she can be transported to surgery.

  “Jonathan, please take this patient upstairs and hurry back because we have a rig ten minutes out. CJ, I’m glad you came in when you did. Let’s get this room cleaned up and ready for the next trauma. Skylar will help you,” our charge nurse, Geneva Ann, says.

  We all get to work, knowing that there are more patients coming in. The thing about working in the emergency room is that you never know what your day is going to be like. Sometimes things are really quiet, though that is a rarity. Most of the time I am running from room to room, taking care of people with minor injuries or major catastrophes. I’ve been a nurse here since I graduated from college four years ago. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline rush or the sense of family that keeps me here. I would have a similar feeling as a flight nurse, but that would mean leaving this team that has become so important to me.

  “The rig just pulled up, let’s go, CJ,” Geneva Ann says as she hustles past the room. I drop what I have in my hands and follow her out to the ambulance bay.

  "Hey, Keith. Whatcha got this early in the morning?" I ask as I snap on my gloves. He’s my favorite EMT, always professional and knows exactly what he’s doing.

  "Car versus pedestrian at Sixth and Main. This gentleman was the pedestrian. Vitals are stable, no loss of consciousness, but the arm and leg need looked at," Keith replies as he pulls the gurney out of the ambulance and rolls it into the ER.

  We enter the exam room and the orderlies are there to transfer the patient to the bed. Once we have him situated, I start my intake.

  "Hi, my name is CJ and I'm going to be your nurse. Can you tell me your name?" I look up from my tablet to gauge his responsiveness. He turns to look at me and smiles.

  "Curtis Lindey, but you can call me Curt, beautiful." I shake my head but decide to let that one go.

  "Can you tell me what happened today?" I focus back on my tablet to record his answers.

  "I have no idea. I was crossing the street and a car came out of nowhere and hit me. But now that I'm here, I'll have to thank that guy." He reaches out and puts his hand on my forearm. I move away from the bed to get the blood pressure cuff that's attached to the wall at the head of the bed.

  "Are you having any pain?"

  "The only pain I have is that I can't get closer to you, baby," he replies. When I turn around to start taking his vitals, he's pulling his shirt off favoring his right side. I can't help but notice the two large paw print tattoos on his chest. It looks like a cartoon bear stepped in orange ink and stood between his nipples and his collarbone. It's taking all my control not to point and laugh at this dumbass. I wrap the cuff around his right arm and pump it up to the point where he starts to squirm.

  "Are you sure you're not in pain? It seems that a man like you could handle a little squeeze on the arm. Is something wrong, Curt?" I smile as sweetly as I can.

  "No, nothing's wrong. My arm is a little sore from the accident, but it's all right," he says tightly.

  "Hmm, well, I guess if there's nothing wrong then I'll see about getting you discharged as soon as possible. We've got to use these beds for real emergencies." I start to walk out of the room and get the attending to sign off on the paperwork.

  "Wait, my leg hurts. You didn't even look at my leg," he says quickly. "You didn't examine my chest either and it's starting to bother me." I turn around and look at him.

  "If you're ready to take this seriously, then I'll help you. If you're going to continue to hit on me, I'm outta here and you can deal with Nurse Jonathan. He'd be happy to examine you completely," I say with all the seriousness I can muster.

  "I'll be good, I promise. No need to have anyone else, really."

  "Okay, let's try this again... do you have any pain, Mr. Lindey?"

  "Yes, my chest and my right leg hurt," he answers politely. I smile to myself. It's so easy sometimes.

  "All right. Now we're getting somewhere. How about I have an orderly come help you into this hospital gown and I'll see what we need to do about your leg. I'll be back in a few minutes," I say as I back out of the room, closing the curtain behind me. I shake my head as I walk up to the main desk and ask the orderly to help my patient change.

  "Whatcha got goin', CJ?"

  I turn to see Jonathan, returning from transporting the heart patient from earlier, coming toward me wearing his signature grin. I love this man so much. He's the best gay friend a girl can have.

  "Oh, the usual. Casanova in room one who got hit by a car. Since I walked into a trauma, I didn’t get a chance to ask you, but what're you doing here? I thought you and Oscar were taking the week off."

  "Well, he got called into court. You know how that shit goes. So I figured I'd make some cash while he's working." Oscar is a deputy prosecutor, and he has been working on a few big cases lately. I'm not really surprised that their plans got interrupted.

  "I'm sorry about your plans, but I'm thrilled that you're here. I can't stand this place without you." I wink as I say this.

  "Well, let's make the most of our time together then. If you need help with your patient let me know," he says with a grin, walking toward the employee lounge. Bill comes back a few minutes later to let me know that Curtis is ready. I take a deep breath, put on my nurse face, and go back to deal with what I hope will be the last of this type of idiot for the day.

  Twelve hour shifts suck. I mean, really suck. Our usual pattern is three days on, three days off. Today is my third day in a row. I’m exhausted and ready to sleep for the next forty-eight hours, but I still have two hours left of this shift. Jonathan went home a few minutes ago so it’s just me, Bill, our orderly, Dr. Sanders, and Skylar. We’re all sitting around the nurses’ station when a call comes in from registration.

  “There’s a rape case in the waiting room,” Bill announces. Fuck. I hate these situations. They hit a little too close to home for me. I hear Dr. Sanders tell Bill to put the woman in room three, but it sounds like she’s in a tunnel. I know I’m starting to go into a panic attack, and I can’t let that happen here. I try to focus on my breathing like my therapist taught me, and in a few seconds things start to come back online for me. Before I register what I’m doing, I’m following Skylar to the room to start the assessment.

  Here’s the thing about treating a woman who says she’s been raped. We have to remain professional no matter what. Sometimes it comes off as cold or unfeeling, but it’s really the only way to maintain objectivity. It’s a social worker’s job to be empathetic and hold the woman’s hand, and it’s my job to take samples and collect any physical evidence that the police can use. I try to shut off all emotions in these situations because I will fall apart if I don’t. There are always two nurses in the room, which helps with recording information. In this case, Skylar is doing the interview and I am preparing for the physical exam.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I hear Skylar ask.

  “All I know is that he just took what he wanted and left,” the patient answers in a confused voice. That strikes me as odd, but I keep doing my job.

  “What does that mean? Are you hurt anywhere? What did he do, exactly?” Skylar asks with more compassion than I could.

  “I’m not really hurt, just angry. We w
ere on my bed, making out, you know? I didn’t want things to go further, but he sort of talked me into it. The thing is, I told him to stop. I said I didn’t want it, but he said that I had gotten him all worked up and it wasn’t cool to just leave him hanging. I didn’t know what to do but I told him again that I didn’t want to, and he just went ahead and did it anyway. My resident assistant at my dorm told me to come here because I’d been sexually assaulted. Is she right? I don’t know what this is. I told him no but he didn’t hurt me. Is that rape?”

  At this point, my heart goes out to this young woman. She doesn’t really know that she’s a victim. I just don’t understand how men think that it’s their right to fuck a woman just because he’s got a hard-on. It’s such a crock of shit but something that we see all too often here. I finish collecting samples while Skylar asks the required questions, and once I’m done I report to Dr. Sanders so she can do her exam. I make the necessary notes in the chart and excuse myself to the restroom. I need a break and that’s the only place to get any peace until I can get home.

  3

  The worst part about being fired from a job is not the loss of the job; it’s the boredom. It’s only been two days since I was dismissed from the DEA, and I’m bored out of my fucking skull. I’ve cleaned my place to the point that my mother would be impressed, if she were alive to see it. The job search has turned up absolutely nothing, but that’s not a surprise. The call I got from my brother yesterday didn’t really help me feel any better either.

  “Hey, man, I just heard. What the hell happened?”

  “How the fuck did you hear about it?”

  “Kevin called. What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll figure something out. I always land on my feet.”

  “Have you told Dad?”

  “No, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to him either. I don’t need his bullshit right now.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. I know you two have your issues. I’m not going to add fuel to that fire.”

  “I appreciate it. I’ll call you in a few days, okay, Colin? I just need to get my shit together.”

  “No problem. Later.”

  I’m surprised that Colin even called. We don’t have the closest relationship. But the last thing I want is help from my little brother. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of him, not the other way around. Unfortunately, I may have to ask him. The biggest problem is I don’t have any education to speak of. I went straight from high school to the Marines and then from there I got hired at the DEA. I wasn’t ever very good at school so it really wasn’t anything I missed. Now, though, the job market expects a college degree. Maybe it’s just this area, since it’s a bigger metropolitan area. On a whim, I pull up jobs in Colin’s neck of the woods, not because he’s there, but it’s more rural so maybe they won’t require so many credentials.

  The listings aren’t great, but I do find a couple of things I’m qualified for. I really don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, so as long as it pays the bills and is mostly legal, I’ll do it. I pull up my bank statement and figure that I’ve got enough in savings for a deposit and first month’s rent on a new place, and maybe to get all the utilities turned on. My last paycheck will hit my account next week but then that’s it. I’ve got to find something fast, so I apply for a job with Belator Security Systems and some collection agency.

  With that task complete, I turn my attention to my apartment. I don’t really have much in the way of personal items. The Marines taught me to pack light and live with very little. I guess that lesson has stuck with me. It won’t take much to move my stuff to a new place, but it will suck. I won’t be able to afford this place much longer anyway.

  My brother’s ringtone brings me out of my head. I’m really not in the mood to let him blow sunshine up my ass so I let it go to voicemail. Of course the asshole just calls right back. After the third time, I pick up.

  “What the fuck do you want, Colin?” I yell into the phone. He doesn’t deserve my hostility, but I’ve got nobody else.

  “All right, assface, you can check the attitude. I know you’re going through some shit, but you don’t have to take it out on me. Besides, I’m calling to help you out.”

  “I don’t need your help. I’m a grown man and I can take care of myself.” Even I know that’s childish, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  “So, you don’t want me to tell you about the call I just got from Matt Davidson, the head of Belator Security Systems, about your job application?” This gets my attention fast.

  “I applied for that job like ten minutes ago. What the fuck, bro?” His laughter is only pissing me off more.

  “Matt and I play poker with a few other guys every week. He said that he got an application from someone with the same name as my brother and wanted to know if it was you. I told him that I doubted it since you wouldn’t dream of moving away from Tampa, but when he gave me a little more info I realized that it was you. Are you seriously thinking about relocating?”

  I take a deep breath before I answer. Part of me wants to yell at him for questioning me about what I’m doing, but we’re not kids anymore. I’ve spent so many years taking care of Colin and shielding him from our father that it’s hard for me not to get defensive.

  “I’m just trying to find a job. You know how hard it is out there without a degree. If I have to move, I will. Did you learn anything else about this job?”

  “I put in a good word for you. I think you’d like working for Matt. He’s a good guy, and as long as you do what needs to be done, he doesn’t really give a shit about your personal life. My guess is he’s doing a background check and then he’ll call you.”

  “I hope so. I’m not cut out to just sit around all the time. I’m going nuts here, man.”

  “Knowing you, I’m surprised you haven’t been spending your time by filling a pussy or two. What else is going on, Jude? You don’t seem like yourself.”

  “Because I’m not fucking someone? Is that what you think of me?” I yell into the phone.

  “Fucking Christ, Jude. That’s not at all what I’m saying. Why are you so defensive? Has Dad called or something?”

  What a disaster that would be. Major David Schaefer and I have an oil and water relationship. He’s military through and through, even though he’s been retired for years. He expected me to follow in his footsteps and he didn’t care what I wanted. Major Schaefer is a highly decorated Marine, and he expected nothing less of his oldest son. Of course, when I didn’t perform as he wanted, in anything, he made sure to let me know it. When I was a kid, he used his words, but when I got older he started using his fists. After Mom died, he stopped caring about me at all. The only time I hear from him now is for him to try and tell me how to live my life, how bad my choices are, or how wonderful Colin is.

  “Thank God, no. I haven’t heard from him in months. However, I imagine I will when he gets wind of what happened at the DEA. I can only imagine how proud he is now,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Okay. I’m not going to touch that one. Look, I’ve got to get to a meeting. Let me know if you hear from Matt or if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “I will. Thanks, Colin.” I really mean it, I’m grateful for his help.

  A few hours later I’m sitting in my favorite chair playing Tetris on my tablet when my phone rings. The number on the caller ID is from an 850 area code. I normally don’t answer calls if the number isn’t programmed in, but this call is from where I applied for jobs.

  “Jude Schafer,” I answer.

  “Mr. Schafer, this is Matt Davidson with Belator Security Systems. I received your application this morning, and I’d like to discuss the opening we have. Is now a good time?” His voice is sharp, to the point. I like him already.

  “Yes, Mr. Davidson, I have time. Thank you for calling.”

  “I want to start out by telling you that I spoke with your brother, Colin, this morning. Based on his re
commendation, I’d like you to come in for an interview. We’re currently hiring for our prisoner transport division. You’d be driving inmates to and from court or to a different prison if they’re transferred. With your background in the military and in law enforcement, I think you’re qualified for the position. Would you be able to come in on Monday so we can meet and talk more in person?”

  I’m sure my jaw is on the floor, and it takes me a second to process what he just said. Did he just say I’m qualified for a job? Before I spend too much time thinking about that I answer his question.

  “Yes, I’m happy to come in on Monday. Did you have a specific time in mind?”

  “I’d like you to be here at ten. I’ll email you the address and directions. I look forward to meeting you next week, Mr. Schaefer.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Davidson. See you on Monday,” I reply before he ends the call. Maybe having my little brother help me out isn’t such a bad thing after all.

  C

  The best and worst part of my job is the time off. I know it’s stupid to complain about having time away from work, but I need to stay busy in order to keep out of trouble. By trouble, I mean out of some random guy’s bed. I get bored so easily that it becomes really easy to go out and let a man take me home. Kind of like a play date. I mean, men are dicks. They act like dicks, they think with their dicks, and I like what they can do with their dicks, so I want to try them all. Does that make me a slut? I prefer to think of it as sampling the goods before committing to a purchase. Not that I’m looking to make a long-term commitment to one dick, quite the opposite. A great shopper never stops hunting for just the right thing that looks and feels good, fits just right, and makes you happy. I haven’t found one that makes me happy enough to stop shopping, and I don’t think I ever will.