His Fight: The Downing Family Book 5

by Wild, Cassie

  Once I’d dealt with the money, I debated my two choices—go back to the miserable little hole above the tattoo shop or go to Briar’s.

  It wasn’t a hard choice, even though I didn’t relish the idea of being penned up in the Camry for any longer than necessary. I was aching and sore, and that ride would suck.

  But I wanted to see her. I wanted to sleep, and I knew I’d sleep better in her big, soft bed than I would in my crappy old apartment.

  In the end, it really wasn’t much of a decision at all.

  Fourteen

  Briar

  It’s a fact universally acknowledged by those in the medical field that if you worked on a holiday, you were very likely going to face some level of hell on earth—suicide attempts, domestic violence matters, drunk driving accidents, kitchen accidents—you name it.

  I figured the same also held true for the day after certain holidays, or in some cases, the day before. Like New Year’s Eve, Christmas Eve…the day after Thanksgiving.

  Days when people were already looking forward to the holiday, or in some cases, they’d enjoyed the holiday a bit too much.

  There were also cases like the one that had landed nine people in the ED during my shift that Black Friday—a bunch of young men, all of them involved in some sort of gang. Five of them were from one gang, the rest of them were from another. One group was mostly older teens and young men, while the others looked like rejects from a bad biker movie, most of them with their heads completely bald. I’d seen at least one swastika tattoo in that bunch.

  From what I could put together, the guy with the swastika had started mouthing off at the group from the other gang for playing their music loud. They’d gotten into a fight, and the guy with the tattoo had pulled a gun. At that point, all parties had thrown in, and it turned into a free-for-all.

  The gunshot victim was already in surgery, and the man with the weapon was handcuffed to a bed. Once he was stable, he was being transported.

  Other people of ‘interest’ were being questioned by the cops on premises. A few had been let go. Others were being taken into custody—and they were very vocal about it.

  I appreciated the presence of the cops. Maybe it was naïve, but I thought having them there would ward off any more incidents of violence. Violence seemed to ooze from these men like some sort of pheromone.

  Like my current patient. He was a young guy, two years younger than me, although the cynical set to his features made that hard to believe. He had a smooth, shaven head, although the pale, blond fuzz was already starting to show, matching the slightly darker stubble that darkened his chin. He had a soft chin and mean eyes. Those mean eyes were enhanced by the long, thin cut that bisected his right cheekbone, still oozing blood although he’d been waiting in triage for close to an hour.

  He was far from one of the more urgent cases, despite the obviously broken forearm. He was definitely in pain, but at the last update, we had three people who were in surgery. This guy, despite the painful break, wasn’t urgent.

  By the time he’d been put in a room, and I made it in to evaluate him, he was in a shitty mood. I could understand that. I’d broken my arm when I was younger, and I knew how much it could hurt, so I empathized.

  “We should be able to close the laceration on your face with tissue adhesive,” I told him, cleaning the blood from his cheek so I could get a better look at the thin slice. “It’s basically medical glue. Scarring will be minimal. I’ll also get you some pain medication for your arm. The first thing we’ll need to do after that is assess the damage, so I’m ordering an X-ray.”

  I looked into the dark eyes of Charissa, one of our finest nurses. “Can you take care of that pain medication and get me the tissue adhesive?”

  The empathy I’d been feeling died in the next few seconds. Before Charissa could respond to my request, he gave her a sneering look. “I’d rather have a white nurse, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Although I bristled, I gave him a cool look. “You don’t get to pick and choose your nurses here, Mr. Frey.” Then, shifting my attention to my nurse, giving her a look that I hoped conveyed my understanding if she wanted to switch out, I said, “Go on, Charissa. I need to finish my exam.”

  She gave me a polite smile, ignoring the patient altogether. “I’ll be right back, doctor.”

  “Bitch better be getting another nurse!” he shouted at her retreating back.

  “Mr. Frey, do you want to be treated at this facility?” I asked coolly.

  He gave me a leering look that went from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. “You can do whatever you want to me, but that bitch ain’t touching me.”

  “Are you refusing care, Mr. Frey?”

  He hitched up a shoulder, then winced at the action. “Call it what you like, but I don’t want that woman in here.”

  “So, essentially, you’re refusing care.” I tapped the button on the Bluetooth headset I’d started wearing over the past week. They were a new addition to the hospital, and I was struggling to adapt to them. We’d used a Bluetooth set-up at Green Valley, but the make and models were different. Still, there were times when Bluetooth devices came in very handy. Like now, for instance. “Charissa?”

  She responded in less than thirty seconds. “Yes, Dr. Downing?”

  “Cancel those orders. I’m going to splint the patient’s arm, and we’ll prepare him for discharge.”

  He gave me an irate look. “Bitch, I ain’t going nowhere until you fix my arm! And I want some fucking pain medicine.”

  I tapped the talk button on the earpiece, cutting off the communication. As the line went dead, I gave the patient a mild look. “I can hardly treat you on my own, and since you won’t accept care from the nurse, there’s nothing I can do. You’ve effectively refused care, so I’ll stabilize your arm and you can go to another facility.”

  He shoved up off the bed, his features folding into a look made even more menacing as the laceration on his face began to ooze blood once more.

  He jabbed a finger in my direction. “Get your skinny ass out there and find me some fucking pain medicine.”

  As he made a step in my direction, I backed up and came in contact with the curtain separating his bay from the next one.

  “I can’t give you any pain medicine if you refuse to accept treatment.” I returned his hard look, hoping the nerves I felt inside weren’t showing. Patients might be able to refuse care from a doctor based on skin color or gender, but doctors were independent contractors. If a hospital—or one of the staff doctors—played into a patient’s bias and assigned a nurse elsewhere because of a patient’s racist’s views, it presented specific legal issues.

  “What kind of horseshit is this?” he demanded. He jabbed a finger at me. “Hospitals are required to provide care for people no matter what they think or believe. So, give me the damned care!”

  “You’re not being denied care. You’re refusing care from a qualified nurse based on the color of her skin. It’s a choice you’re making and one that’s out of my control. Now, would you like me to stabilize your arm so you can be transported elsewhere?”

  “You’re kicking me out of the hospital!” He started ranting, using racial slurs and profanities. I pulled out my phone and pushed a code into it, alerting security.

  Before they even arrived, somebody jerked open the curtain at my back. Dread erupted through me as a big man, his right eye swollen and purple against his dark skin took in the pissed-off patient standing in front of me.

  “How about you take your sorry ass on out of here?” the new arrival said, stabbing a thick finger into the air. He looked like he’d like to skewer my angry, ugly-tempered patient on his finger.

  Personally, I could see why.

  “You stay the fuck out of this,” Frey said.

  “Martin, just get your ass back in bed and leave that stupid-ass motherfucker to himself. The doctor is handling it.” The speaker, a female, was just behind the curtain, and I couldn’t see her, bu
t I sincerely hoped Martin would take her advice.

  Overhead, I heard the alert go out, notifying staff and security personnel of a combative person. “Code gray…” The voice droned on, adding the location of the alert.

  We were only seconds from more staff arriving, as well as security.

  But that was too long.

  Frey came around the table. I got between the two of them. “You need to get back to your bay, Mr. Frey. You too, sir.” I glanced at the other man before looking back at my difficult patient. He was clearly the more combative of the two.

  “Get out of my face, bitch,” Frey snarled.

  I had to give Martin credit. When Frey shoved me into him, the big guy caught me and gently nudged me aside. I could only blame myself as I once again stepped between them. Fists were already flying at that point, and I caught one of them right on my cheekbone. It was my left, so I knew it was Frey who’d hit me. I stumbled, thrown off balance by the blow, and I went down hard, my head smacking into the floor.

  My head spun as I lay there staring up at the ceiling. Even so, I could only think…I’ve got to stop this…

  Feeling like my limbs had been replaced with somebody else’s, I pushed myself upright. It took several tries to actually get to my feet, and by that time, three security guards were already in the bay, struggling to pull Frey and Martin apart.

  I took a step toward them.

  A dark brown hand shot out and caught my arm, snatching me back when I would have moved back into the middle of it. “Don’t go being stupid, girl,” a hard voice said. It was the same voice I’d heard earlier—the woman who’d told Martin to get his ass back in bed. “You already damn near got your head knocked off.”

  One of the security guards went flying to the ground, and Frey soon joined him.

  “Crazy bunch of bullshit,” my reluctant savior muttered. “Can’t even go to the damn hospital without shit happening.”

  Curtains got pushed back, and I looked on with dismay as several other patients joined in on the melee. Without thinking, I grabbed the wrist of the woman who’d pulled me away from the mess, and this time, I was the one doing the pulling.

  “Come on,” I said, half dragging her with me until we were tucked behind the nurse’s station. I had planned to simply stow her there, then get back to the floor and try to protect the patients, but my head was spinning so badly, it was an effort just to stay upright.

  More security personnel in their familiar black and gray uniforms flooded into the emergency department, joining in with the guards already present, as well as the cops. Some went to stand guard over the staff helping protect the patients while others focused on breaking up the fight.

  “More cops just arrived,” one of the nurses said.

  I tried to pinpoint them in the mess of people, but my head was now pounding in rhythm with my heart, or so it seemed. My cheek was doing the same thing. I reached up to probe at the tender area and caught the attention of Charissa, who’d been glancing over at me. Her eyes widened at the sight of me.

  “What the h—” She stopped and corrected herself. “What happened to you, Dr. Downing?”

  She elbowed her way to me through the crush. Several nurses and other ancillary staff had been behind the nurse’s station, and security personnel wouldn’t let them leave until they had the scene contained, so we were elbow to elbow now, with four guards standing on point around us. A number of doctors were also there, and I suddenly found myself the center of attention.

  Charissa and Dr. Wo reached me.

  Charissa gave me a worried look as Dr. Wo fished out a penlight and shone it in my eyes.

  “I tried to make them stop fighting,” I said, feeling stupid.

  Charissa gave me a sympathetic look. “Some people can’t be reasoned with. Do you know which one hit you?”

  I made a face at her. “Take a guess.”

  “I’d have to assume it was the one who didn’t want my services,” she said in a light voice.

  She might have been smiling, but I saw the fine lines fanning out from her eyes. I reached out and caught her hand. “I’m so sorry,” I said softly. “Nobody should have to deal with that.”

  She squeezed back. “Looks like you dealt with some shit from him too. You’re bruising pretty spectacularly there, honey.”

  “Come on, Briar,” Dr. Wo said. “Look back at me.”

  With a sigh, I obeyed his order, and my head continued to throb.

  Fifteen

  Briar

  When Raisa decided to send me home, I hadn’t argued, a sign of how shitty I felt.

  I hadn’t felt up to driving, so she decided to drive me home, while a fellow employee tagged along behind us to give her a ride back to the hospital. She was in for a long night of paperwork and reports.

  “I can’t believe you’re letting me drive your baby,” Raisa joked, trying to lighten the air.

  I think I made some sort of response, but I couldn’t remember what I said.

  “You hanging in there okay, Briar?” Raisa asked softly.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but my voice sounded so tired. I was fine, mostly. I was sore as hell and tired and pissed off. It didn’t help that I was more pissed off at myself than at anybody in particular. I should have known better to step in between two men who’d already shown a proclivity for violence, but I’d gone and done it anyway.

  “It’s okay, you know,” Raisa said softly.

  I didn’t bother responding.

  She brushed her fingers across my arm. “People like us want to think that calm, rational talk can fix almost anything. Violence isn’t a part of us. The only thing you did wrong was thinking you could change the violence in somebody else. And you ended up hurt because of it. I don’t think you’ll forget that lesson any time soon, will you?”

  “Maybe ten years after I’m buried,” I said sourly.

  She laughed. “Then the lesson was learned. And in the long run, you learned it with just a bruise and a bad headache. It’s still a bitch, but some people take even more to learn that lesson.”

  “Is this pep talk supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, cracking open one eye and turning my head to look at her.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the road, but the ghost of a smile danced on her lips. “I just want to make sure you know you’re not the only one who’s done something like this. Working at an urban hospital…well, sometimes doctors get caught up in messes like this. It will be okay, Briar.”

  After a long moment, I said, “I know.” And I did know that. Really, despite my aching head and bruised cheek, my pride was hurt more than anything else. I should have known better. I learned all about this shit in school, and yet during my first real live experience, I forgot everything I’d been taught.

  “I just…” Unable to fully explain the gamut of emotion running through me, I turned my head and stared outside. “I don’t get it. All this bullshit started over music. And the crap in the hospital started because that dumbass didn’t like the color of Charissa’s skin. He might have been able to go home, but now he’s going to end up spending at least the night in jail…”

  “Are you pressing charges?” she asked softly.

  I groaned and pressed my fingers against my temple. “I don’t know.” Groaning, I dropped my head back against the seat. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t because it made my head ache that much more. “I just don’t know. I mean, is it worth it? You know how lawyers are. He’ll get some defense lawyer who’ll argue that it was my fault for getting involved…”

  Raisa laughed. “His attorney will be overworked, underpaid, and juggling more cases than you can imagine. If you get a half-way decent attorney, you’ll do fine. If nothing else, you should be able to get a plea deal, and he’s already looking at trouble because he resisted arrest once Philly PD waded in and that debacle got recorded for posterity. Trust me…he won’t want to compound his stupidity.”

  I might have laughed, but experience had taught me it was best to
keep any sounds I made to an absolute minimum, so I just made a hmmm sound and inclined my head in a very slow nod.

  Raisa slowed to turn, and I was relieved to see my street ahead.

  “You’re not going to fight the two days off, right?” she asked as she pulled into my parking spot.

  “No.” I pressed a hand to the back of my head, gingerly probing the knot. “And I’ll call my doctor first thing Monday so I can get checked out.”

  “Come into the ED over the weekend if you feel worse, you hear me?” She gave me a serious look before climbing out. Danny Harris, the doctor who’d followed us, pulled in behind my car and sat waiting while Raisa and I spoke.

  “I will.”

  “And if you don’t feel up to driving, just call me.” She turned the keys over to me. “You understand?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. I promise. Just stop worrying. I’ll be fine.” I risked a smile and decided it didn’t hurt too much. “Trust me…my head’s too thick for this to do too much damage.”

  She snorted and shook her head. “Go on. I’m not going anywhere until you’re inside. Flash the light twice once you’ve got the door locked.”

  “You’re worse than my dad,” I muttered. Heaving out a sigh, I trudged up to the door and unlocked it. It took more concentration than it should have, but I attributed that to my utter weariness. There was something to be said for how exhausting trauma could be—and it had definitely been a traumatic day.

  Once inside, I locked the door and turned the deadbolt, then flashed the lights for Raisa’s benefit. That done, I dimmed the lights to accommodate my headache. I considered going up to my bed, but I was so tired and sore, I didn’t think I had even that minimal effort in me.

  “We’ll just camp out down here then,” I told myself.

  All I needed to do was find some pajamas, some ibuprofen for my headache, and I could curl up either in my reading chair or in the spare bedroom.