by Avery Gale
“Hey, Reagan. Can you get that box of flutes off the top shelf?” Dixie was one of the club’s regular servers, and she’d also worked a full day before pulling a double shift for the party. Reagan had heard the woman was putting herself through school and agreed to take all the extra shifts she could during her brief breaks between semesters.
Reagan pushed off from the wall and made her way to the shelves as Dixie struggled to uncork a bottle of champagne. “What the heck? The others weren’t this hard to open.” Reagan had just opened her mouth to ask if the bottle was chilled properly when she heard an ominous crack. Dixie screamed just as the world around Reagan exploded…literally.
Time seemed to slow around her, but Reagan’s mind raced at the speed of light. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks Dixie had been using a tall cabinet as a resting place for the bottle. That should help minimize her injuries. Damn, girl, I hope you covered your face. Just as those thoughts sped in her mind, a flash of blinding pain seared the backs of her legs and bare back. The step stool she’d been standing on slid out from under her, and Reagan crumbled to the concrete floor, bouncing off everything on the way down.
With her vision dimming, Reagan tried to get her feet under her, but her legs weren’t cooperating. She heard the door slam open and the thunder of footsteps as pandemonium broke out on the other side of the cabinet. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she was grateful they’d found Dixie. Her next thought was a moment of panic. What if they didn’t realize she was in here? If Dixie couldn’t tell them, she could be stuck here until she gained enough strength to stand. It was too frightening to think about…so Reagan let herself slide into the dim oblivion closing in from all sides.
The next time she tried to move, a low groan vibrated through her chest and warm hands held her still. “Don’t move, baby. I’m not finished assessing your injuries.”
“Rafe?”
“Yes, Peach, now be a good girl and stay still for me.”
How long was I out? They’re going to ask, and I don’t know.
“Reagan, I know exactly how long you were out. I was already beside you when you closed those beautiful brown eyes, baby.” His fingers were running over every inch of her face, frown lines forming between his brows. “We’ll get the pictures, but I don’t think you have any serious breaks. You are going to look like hell for a while. Do you remember what happened, Reagan?”
“Champagne grenade.”
Her eyes were drifting closed again, so she didn’t see his reaction, but she felt him stiffen against her. His hands were still moving over her. “We’re going to chat about your terminology, Peach. I obviously have a lot to learn about you.” Rafe’s quietly spoken words faded into the background when she realized they were no longer alone.
Reagan surfaced momentarily as she was being rolled from the club, and she panicked. Dark memories crashed over her in a tidal wave of fear. She’d done this once before. Being taken away by first responders she didn’t know to a hospital she’d never been in, surrounded by strangers…it was all too familiar and frightening.
“Rafe?”
Her startled cry brought a squeeze to her hand. “Right here, baby. I’m going with you to the hospital. I have staff privileges there.” What? He’s a doctor? Wait. I knew this. I remember. He’s a doctor in San Francisco. “I’m not sure you meant to say all of that out loud, Peach.” His soft chuckle warmed her from the inside out. Nope, sure don’t mean to blab every little thought that traipses through my head. Damn!
“I don’t ordinarily tell people at the club what I do for a living, Reagan. Though I’m not surprised you know considering airports are usually rife with gossip. I don’t tell my patients about my lifestyle choices, either. But keeping my life so compartmentalized has become increasingly difficult. That’s one of the reasons I’m considering relocating my practice to Montana.”
Reagan hoped the small smile that floated through her pain soaked mind made its way to the surface, because she didn’t have the energy to make it happen otherwise.
Rafe wasn’t worried about the abrasions on Reagan’s face—they’d heal soon enough. And the bruises were already turning shades of deep blue. She’d be uncomfortable and damned colorful for a while, but there wouldn’t be any lasting effects. The lacerations on her back and legs were another matter.
He’d directed the ambulance to transport Reagan to the hospital farther north because that was where Ryan Morgan practiced. Rafe had toured the facility a few months ago and been pleasantly surprised by the updates. From what he’d learned, it was on the way to living up to its Regional Hospital moniker.
Before the paramedics had even gotten Reagan unloaded, Ryan stepped up beside him. “What the hell happened? Nate said it sounded like C4.”
“Fucking champagne. I can’t tell you how many of these I see.” God knew the social set he catered to loved their bubbly and had rarely been advised how important it was to keep it ice cold so it could be uncorked safely. The industry had made some changes that helped, but education was the key.
“We’ll triage and then send her to surgery. I’ve already called in a team for you.” Rafe nodded his thanks. Ryan Morgan was damned good at his job. It was almost a shame he was slowly being shifted to the administrative side and away from direct patient care.
“I’ll help assess then scrub. She’s going to be in surgery a long time so I want to make sure I know everything there is to know. The lacerations are deep, and most aren’t straight.” It was going to take longer to close the wounds because he planned to layer the sutures and then seal the tops to minimize scarring. She already had significant scarring in some of the affected areas, and that was going to further complicate his work.
During the next half hour, the small hospital’s dedicated staff moved at a clipped pace. Their motions were almost military in their precision, and Rafe smiled when he realized why. Ryan Morgan had been in medical school when he’d enlisted in the Navy as a result of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Nate and Taz praised his medic skills, stating many of their SEAL team members owed their lives to his ability to improvise under the worst possible conditions. He’d eventually resigned his commission and returned to finish medical school before moving to Montana.
Rafe took a moment to step back and watch things with an assessing eye and found himself impressed with what he saw. Sure, the facility was small, but the equipment was up to date and well-maintained. “We just got her blood work back. Since I’m not sure how much she lost or how much you may need during surgery, I’ve called in a donor.”
“Called in a donor? What the hell? You have a calling tree for donations?” Rafe knew he’d been had when he turned to see the glint of mischief in Ryan’s eyes.
“Yep, we’re all big-city slick here. I have a chart on the back of my office door. Made it myself with a new box of crayons, construction paper, and a glue stick.”
“Christ, you’re a wise ass just like all the other Morgans. I feel sorry for your mother and aunt. Genetics can be a real bitch.” Rafe chuckled at the satisfied smile on Ryan’s face. The other man had been trying to lighten the mood, and Rafe appreciated the effort.
“She is a perfect match for Brandt. He’s already down in the lab. Joelle will pamper him tonight, and he’ll soak it all up like a fucking sponge—the jerk.” Rafe shook his head. It amazed him how easily his friends seemed to maneuver through the intricacies of polyamorous relationships.
Rafe stepped back up to the table and brushed his fingers over Reagan’s cheek. “I’m going to go shower and scrub for surgery, baby. The next time we talk, you’ll be all patched up.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, but he didn’t think she was focused enough to actually see him against the lights. Reaching up, he switched off the one shining too close, and she whispered her thanks. “You’re going to assist? That’s sweet.”
“No, Peach. I’m your surgeon. We’ll talk more later.” Her eyes widened in surprise, but it quickly dimmed as she let herself slip back
into sleep. He didn’t think her concussion was an issue, but they’d been waking her every few minutes just to be sure, and he wanted her to get all the rest she could. The next few days weren’t going to be much fun for her, and rest would go a long way to setting her on the road to recovery.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her smooth forehead and turned back to Ryan. “Let’s go.”
Walking side by side down the hall, Ryan slanted him a sideways glance. “Ever operated on someone you cared about before?”
“No, why?”
“It’s a whole new ballgame, I assure you.” Rafe didn’t respond. Not because he disagreed, but because he didn’t…not necessarily. But he didn’t agree, either.
“You’ll see. But consider yourself warned, and you’ll buy the beer when this is done and you’re forced to admit I was right.”
“What are you going to be right about this time, Master?” The soft female voice behind them had Ryan turning on his heel.
“Oh, baby, look at you.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with enough heat Rafe was tempted to move away. “You’ve come to pick up Brandt? Damn, he is going to milk this for all its worth. Lucky fucker.”
Her soft laugh filled the narrow hallway. “I promise to make it up to you.” Joelle turned her attention to Rafe and smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know Reagan very well, but from what I’ve heard, she is a sweetheart.”
“She is and thanks for your vote of confidence. I’d love to visit, but I need to get ready.”
She nodded and then said, “We live nearby and have plenty of room. After she’s settled and you’re satisfied she won’t evaporate into a fine mist without you, we’ll talk about finding you a real bed so you can rest.”
Joelle Morgan was every bit as brilliant as her Nobel Prize implied. She’d known he’d stick to Reagan like glue for the first twenty-four hours. After that, the post-surgery team would be able to handle the next shift. He’d need to get some real sleep. Since he planned to take her home with him, there wouldn’t be any concerns about her post-facility care.
“Thank you, Joelle. I’ll take you up on that offer as soon as I’m comfortable leaving. She’s going to be in surgery quite a while, so I won’t leave the hospital for the first twenty-four hours. But after that, I’ll be headed your way.” Her face brightened in a smile as if she hadn’t expected him to accept her offer, but was pleased he had.
Before he could turn away, Joelle laid her slender fingers on his arm, warming his skin through the dress shirt he was wearing. “I hope it works out for you, Sir. You deserve someone special.” When he raised his brow at her in question, she flashed a brilliant smile. “I’ve worked with physicians my entire adult life, Dr. Newell. There is a difference in their eyes when they are caring for someone who’s close to their heart…a certain softness in their approach. I see a gentle consideration for Reagan. But there is something more. You’re also making sure you take care of yourself so you can better care for her. She’s lucky to find that…not many of us do.”
With that, she turned back to her husband and Master, kissing him quickly before unwrapping herself from his arms. Rafe nodded at Ryan and took his cue to leave. He wanted to review the surgical unit’s inventory before he scrubbed to be sure the staff set out his preferred sutures.
Rafe’s reputation as one of the leading plastic surgeons in the country was hard earned. He didn’t leave details to chance with any patient. And Joelle had been right when she’d noted Reagan was important to him. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but he was determined to find out. Hell, she was the only woman who’d caught his eye in longer than he could remember. Sure, he played at the club, but he rarely fucked the subs he topped.
Striding down the hall, Rafe tried to remember the last woman he’d taken to dinner who wasn’t a business contact. Even harder to remember was the last time he’d met a woman as intriguing as Reagan. Shoving all the personal thoughts aside, Rafe pushed through the doors of the hospital’s surgical unit and began mentally ticking off everything he’d need.
“Dr. Newell?” Turning to his left, Rafe met soft gray eyes framed by curly black and silver hair that shone under the brilliant lights. When he nodded, the woman smiled. “I’m Ann Ratcher.” She didn’t miss his reaction, and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t say it. I’ve been listening to it my entire professional life. Honest to Pete, I should have gotten married just to change my name.”
He chuckled and nodded his understanding. “This your unit, Nurse Ann?” Rafe wasn’t sure what put the smile on her face—the fact he’d referred to the surgery area as hers or that he’d just assured her that he didn’t intend to tease her by calling her Nurse Ratched. He’d had years of experience judging age, and he guessed she was coming up on fifty faster than she wanted to admit.
“Yes, Sir. Doc Ryan might think it’s his, but I remember taking care of him when he’d visit his aunt and uncle.”
“Surely you aren’t suggesting your seniority points stem from age?” He tried his best to appear aghast, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth no doubt ruined the look.
Fanning herself in an overly dramatic imitation of an antebellum lady, she intoned a perfect Scarlet O’Hara voice. “Good heavens, no. Fiddle-dee-dee.”
Rafe found himself laughing out loud for the first time in hours. As some of the tension drained from him, he noticed she was smiling. “Thanks, Ann. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. You’re damned perceptive. I hope you’ll be assisting.”
“I will. I also wanted to make sure we have everything set up the way you prefer. I hope the rumor I heard about you considering relocating your clinic to Montana are true, Dr. Newell, and I’m not above sucking up to help you make the decision.”
Rafe grinned. He liked Nurse Ann. Her honesty was refreshing, but he was keenly aware that she kept her staff on a short leash. Nothing happened in the hospital’s O.R. unless it had her personal stamp of approval.
“Duly noted. Let’s get started. I use some of the more common sutures sizes, but I’ll also be using some very specific things as well. I’m anticipating we’ll be here several hours so I want to make sure you staff has eaten before we begin. Restroom breaks need to be kept to a minimum, but if they are rotated, you won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“I’ve pulled in a great team, Dr. Newell. I think you’ll be pleased.” He didn’t doubt her. There was a quiet confidence in her tone that he appreciated. She obviously respected the people she worked with, and he’d seen firsthand what an impact that had on morale. Rafe was convinced she’d be his biggest ally and a tremendous asset if he moved.
“Ann, when you are and I are working alone or in social situations, I’d prefer you call me Rafe. I’ll let you choose between Dr. Newell and Dr. Rafe when we’re in working with other staff or dealing with patients. I’m more interested in building trust between us than I am protocol.”
Her expression softened as her eyes registered something deeper than what he’d just said. “We’re going to get along wonderfully, Rafe. It’s been a long time since I thought about protocol.”
Chapter Seven
Exhaustion threatened to pull Rafe under, but he pushed away from the wall and stepped up to the bed to smooth the strands of Reagan’s hair that managed to escape her braid. Ann had tamed her long hair before securing it under the surgical cap almost twelve hours earlier. It had been an act of compassion, and strange as it sounded, that small gesture had gone further to convince him Montana was the place to move than anything he’d been promised.
“You’re dead on your feet, man. Get some rest. I’ll sit with her.” Rafe turned to find Taz Ledek filling the door frame. It was a testament to how tired he was that he hadn’t realized the other man was so close, because he was a fucking giant. “You won’t be in any shape to make good judgements if you let my clumsy ass sneak up on you.” Rafe chuckled. If there was one thing Taz Ledek wasn’t, it was clumsy. Hell, he had more martial arts training t
han anyone Rafe had ever met. And, as a former Navy SEAL, he was as stealthy as a jungle cat. There was a reason their new wife referred to the brothers as Ninjas.
“Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. She’s settled in the past hour.” It had taken forever for the post-op pain management to kick in—no doubt she’d been given so much after the attack her tolerance was sky-high. “I asked the staff to set up a room for me next door.” Taz frowned, but didn’t respond. “Call me immediately if you need anything. The staff has been great, but I can be an intimidating bastard.”
Taz lifted his brow, and Rafe realized how absurd he’d sounded. There were very few people around more intimidating than the six-and-a-half-foot Native American brick wall standing in front of him. “Goddess, man. You’re hard on my ego. A pansy-assed city boy and you think you’re more intimidating that I am. That’s just plain insulting. I’m going to have to start scaring small children and kicking puppies to beef up my rep.”
Rafe shook his head and grinned. “I’m going to tell Kodi you said that. That woman has your number, my friend.”
“Don’t I know it. She owns me. Now, get the hell out of here before I hug you or something. Damned woman is making me soft.”
Rafe turned back to Reagan and brushed his fingers over her cheek. She needed to stay sleeping on her stomach, and he doubted the position was natural for her when she continued trying to roll despite the obvious discomfort. “She isn’t comfortable on her stomach, but she needs to stay put. If that becomes an issue, the staff can secure her.”
“Yeah, because I’ve never tied a woman to a bed. Fuck me. Get out of here before you tell me how to breathe.”
Fatigue was sweeping through him, and Rafe was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t helping at this point. He gave Reagan one last glance, flipped Nate off, and walked out of the room.
