by Sharon Sala
“I’ve got this,” Nick said, and so she sat down at the table while he went to get breakfast.
He was waiting for toast to pop up when he started thinking about how to handle this unexpected problem.
“I’ll call your surgeon after we eat and see how he wants to handle this. I’m not parading you through the lobby of any hospital or having you sit in a waiting room in his office with a dozen other people. Not with Baba in the wind.”
“No one really knows me here,” Quinn said.
Nick hated to say it, but she needed to know.
“If Anton Baba knows your name, everyone will know you.”
She felt the blood draining from her face as the implications of what he said began to sink in.
“But he doesn’t have people looking for me like he did Star...does he?”
“A couple of days ago I would have said no. But after that visit from the Feds, they qualify you as a viable witness, and with his connections, Baba will know that, too.”
“This is such a nightmare,” Quinn said.
Nick grabbed the toast, slipped it on a plate and carried it to the table and sat down beside her.
“We’ll get through it,” Nick said.
Quinn was moved by what he’d said. She’d never had a “we” in her life before. She glanced up at Nick when he wasn’t looking, trying to gauge his mood, but couldn’t.
“You don’t even know if I can cook,” she said, as she reached for a piece of toast and smeared it with jelly.
Nick grinned at her.
“I know how.”
“I have no job skills beyond serving food or drinks,” she said and took a big bite.
His grin widened.
“Are you trying to warn me, or talk me out of what we’re doing here?” he asked.
She shrugged and then swallowed.
“Just being fair, I guess.”
He stirred some cream into his coffee.
“So...can you cook?” he asked.
Quinn burst out laughing.
“You are outrageous.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“That’s what all my women say.”
This silly banter was easing her anxiety, which was exactly what Nick intended.
“Yes, I can cook. I’m a regular Martha Stewart.”
“As long as you don’t start making your own wrapping paper, we should be fine,” he said, licking jelly off his thumb and stuffing the last bite of toast into his mouth.
She laughed.
His job here was done.
* * *
Four hours later Nick pulled into the back of the building where Quinn’s surgeon’s office was housed and made a quick call. A couple of minutes later the door to the service entrance opened. When he saw a lady in blue scrubs standing in the doorway, he and Quinn got out and rushed inside.
“Hi, I’m Rachel,” she said.
Nick flashed his badge.
“Detective Saldano, and thank you so much for this,” Nick said.
Rachel smiled at Quinn, giving her a curious look, but saying nothing as she began to lead them through a maze of hallways until they got to a back exit in the doctor’s office.
“Right in here,” she said and led them into the exam room across the hall. “I have her chart in his office. Dr. Munoz will be with you shortly. Miss O’Meara, you’ll need to take off your shirt and put this gown on. Do you need any help?”
“No, ma’am,” Quinn said.
“Then I’ll give you a few minutes to change before I come in to get your vitals.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said.
And then the nurse was gone.
Nick quickly helped her out of her shirt and sports bra, put the hospital gown on her, then helped her up to the exam table.
“Okay, honey?” he asked, as he brushed some unruly strands of hair back into place. As he did, he felt her forehead. It was hot—too hot. “I think you have a fever now,” he said.
Her shoulders slumped.
“I don’t feel good.”
“Damn it. I let you get in the pool and then took you to bed as if nothing was wrong with you. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Quinn grabbed his hand and lifted it to her cheek.
“It’s no one’s fault but the sorry bastard who shot me, and thanks to you, he won’t be shooting anyone else. Please don’t say you’re sorry about last night. It was the best night of my life,” she said.
Nick pulled her close.
“Me too, Quinn. People are going to say we’re crazy, that this is all happening too fast, but it feels right to me.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t care what anyone says. We both learned early in our lives to take joy when we found it, and for me those times were few and far between. Finding you again feels like an apology from the Universe for separating us the first time.”
“That’s beautiful, sweetheart. An apology from the Universe. I like that.”
“I think I want to lie down now,” she said.
Nick was frowning as he eased her down on the exam table. To relieve the inflamed shoulder, she turned onto her side, stretched out and closed her eyes.
She was getting worse—fast.
Rachel came back, took Quinn’s vitals and also brought a lightweight blanket to cover her up before she left again.
He waited impatiently another five minutes and then was headed for the door to find out where everybody went when the doctor walked in with Rachel on his heels.
“Hello, Detective. And here’s my missing patient,” Munoz said, giving Nick a look.
Nick wasn’t going to apologize.
“It became necessary to move her as quickly as possible. I didn’t think you would appreciate another shooting in your hospital,” Nick said.
Munoz’s eyes widened.
“Uh, no, certainly not. So what’s happening here?” he said.
Quinn had been dozing and was waking as she heard men’s voices. She heard the doctor’s question and struggled to sit up.
“I’ve got you. Let me help,” Nick said and eased her into an upright position on the exam table.
“Hello, Dr. Munoz,” Quinn said.
The surgeon smiled.
“Hello, Quinn. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
She pointed at her back.
“I think it’s infected.”
“Are you taking your antibiotics along with the pain meds?”
“Yes, sir. Regularly.”
“Then let’s take a look,” he said and tapped Nick’s arm. “Can you turn her a little so I can get a better view?”
Nick and Rachel helped Quinn turn sideways, and then he stepped to the side as the doctor began his exam.
Dr. Munoz’s face was hard to read, but Nick could tell he wasn’t pleased. The wound opening had been little more than a jagged hole. The exit wound was not much worse. But now it was inflamed around the wound entrance and hot to the touch. He prodded and poked, looked at the entrance and exit areas, and decided the entrance was the crux of the problem.
“I’m sorry, Quinn, but we’re going to have to open this up.”
“Then do it,” she said.
“Either put her to sleep or deaden the hell out of it,” Nick muttered.
The doctor blinked. The anger in the detective’s voice surprised him.
“Of course. Which would you prefer, Quinn?”
“Deaden it. I don’t like not being in control of what’s happening to me.”
“But I’m here,” Nick said.
She sighed.
“I know, but I don’t want to be put to sleep, okay?”
“Of course, honey. It’s totally your c
all.”
Dr. Munoz nodded.
“He’s right. It is your call, but I’m still going to give you something to relax,” he said and ordered Rachel to start an IV.
Quinn sighed. This wasn’t good news, but pretty much what she’d expected.
Nick got on the far side of the exam table so he’d be out of the way, but at the same time he had a clear view of her face.
The moment Nick walked into her line of vision she reached for his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Thank you, Nick. So am I.”
Rachel approached, wiped down the area with antiseptic swabs and started an IV and drip line with a med to level her anxiety. Then she began numbing the red area around the wound.
“Big stick, honey.”
Quinn didn’t flinch.
Rachel injected the second needle, then the third, and Quinn had done nothing but close her eyes.
“Can you feel anything?” Rachel asked, after she had disposed of the needles.
“Feels like I’m floating,” Quinn said.
Rachel eyed Dr. Munoz.
“I’d say the anxiety meds are working.”
Dr. Munoz nodded and began to remove the two stitches he’d used to close the wound. The moment they were clipped, pressure was released and infection began coming out.
“Rachel, flush this, please,” he said, pointing to the now open wound.
Rachel did as he ordered and continued to flush the area until it was clean from infection.
“Quinn, are you still okay?” Nick asked.
She gave him a thumbs-up and winked.
He grinned. She was feeling no pain, which was great, but the tension grew as Dr. Munoz continued to probe the wound with no luck finding the source of the infection. Munoz stopped long enough for Rachel to wipe the sweat off his brow and then went back at it.
“Well, what have we here?” Munoz said, as he pulled out a two-inch length of thread from the wound.
“What is that?” Nick asked.
The doctor laid it on his tray.
“Quinn, what were you wearing when you were shot?”
“One of my designer dresses,” she said and then giggled.
Nick chuckled.
“She was wearing a leather jacket and a blue shirt beneath it.”
“Knit or fabric?” he asked.
“Fabric,” Nick said, remembering his first sight of her, the baby and the blood. “Blue fabric.”
“That’s what we pulled out. A thread from the woven fabric. It was debris we missed during the first surgery. Bullet-driven debris inside the wound.”
“So she should be feeling better soon, then?” Nick asked.
“Yes. We’ll flush it out once more, then close her up. She’ll have an injection of antibiotic before she leaves and then up the meds she’s already taking. She should soon be on the mend.”
“Great news,” Nick said.
Munoz pointed at Nick’s head.
“How’s that feeling?”
“If I could shake the headache, I’d say great.”
“Fairly normal when you have a bullet wound to the head. Another millimeter to the left and we would have been digging a bullet out of your brain.”
“I’m not complaining,” Nick said.
Rachel ended their conversation.
“Dr. Munoz, ready to flush and close,” she said.
They flushed the wound one last time and closed it back up. When he was finished, he ordered a double dose of antibiotic in her IV and stripped off his latex gloves.
“That does it,” he said, as he patted Quinn’s foot. “How do you feel?”
Quinn jumped as if he’d hit her foot with a ball bat.
“I didn’t do it!” she cried.
Munoz looked at Nick and frowned.
“Hard life in foster care,” Nick said.
“Sorry to hear that,” Munoz said and repeated his question. “Quinn! How do you feel?”
Quinn opened her eyes and glared.
“What? How do I feel? Like some asshole shot me in the back again,” she mumbled and then reached for Nick. “Hey, good-lookin’.”
The doctor laughed out loud.
Nick grinned.
“How much antianxiety medicine did you give her?”
“Obviously enough,” Dr. Munoz said. “At any rate, she should be on the road to healing once more. Of course, call if you have another issue, but those stitches will dissolve. When you feel it’s safe, I’d like to take a look at her in a couple of weeks before I completely release her.”
“You got it,” Nick said. “Thank you again for seeing her like this. Send the bill to my mailing address and—”
“No charge for this. It shouldn’t have happened. Rachel will see you out,” he said and left.
Nick glanced down at Quinn. Her eyes were closed, but she still held on to his hand.
Rachel came back with a wheelchair.
“Can you wake her up enough to get in the chair?” she asked.
Nick just scooped her up in his arms.
She woke up in midair.
“I’m flying,” she said.
“No, Queenie, you’re not flying. You’re just high. I’m going to put you down in this wheelchair. Can you sit up?”
“Of course I can sit up. I’m not a baby.”
The moment he put her down in the wheelchair, her eyes closed and her chin dropped.
“So much for that thought,” Nick said. “I’ll keep her upright. You lead the way,” he said, and so they followed Rachel back through the maze of halls all the way back to that exit.
She held the door open as he paused, looking all around the delivery entrance before he wheeled her out to his car.
Hit by the fresh air and sunshine, Quinn roused again as Nick was unlocking the car.
“Where are we?” she said.
“Going home now, honey. I need you to get in the car, okay?”
“Sure thing,” she said and would have gone face-first onto the pavement if he hadn’t caught her.
By now Nick was laughing.
“Come on, baby...into the front seat with you. I’ll recline the seat and you can sleep all the way home.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she said and then fell asleep on his shoulder as he was buckling her in.
Nick pushed the wheelchair back to Rachel.
“Many thanks for all your trouble.”
“Happy to help,” she said. “Stay safe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nick said and jogged back to the car. He started the engine and turned the air-conditioning on blast.
Quinn roused.
“Is it going to snow?”
He burst out laughing.
“Honey, you are without doubt the cutest drunk I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t drink,” she muttered.
“I’m beginning to believe you,” he said and patted her arm. “Just relax. We’re going home.”
She tried to sit up but kept sliding sideways and grabbed on to his arm to steady herself.
“I don’t know home. Have I ever been there?”
The question hurt his heart.
“You’re already there,” he said softly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He put the car in gear, drove back up an alley to get to the street, then disappeared in traffic, unaware they’d been made.
* * *
Paco Cruz used to run with the big boys. He’d worked for Anton Baba until his addiction to drugs got him arrested. He did five years, and came out minus one eye and crippled after a fight with his cell mate.
Baba was sympathetic to his plight but had no need for a hard-ass wit
h a bad limp and one eye, so that was the end of Paco’s return. He went to work for his uncle’s cleaning company, but had kept a foot in the business by becoming one of his old boss’s better snitches. He made it his business to stay abreast of all that was happening with Baba and was surprised when he learned there were two women who could actually bring him and his dynasty down. The last he’d heard, Baba’s woman had gotten completely away from him, and the witness who could link him to the death of two Feds had disappeared off of Baba’s radar.
Like Baba, things were not looking up for Paco anymore, and he’d gone to work today with an attitude. He’d been cleaning window blinds at the law office of Daniels, Daniels and Wicker when he saw movement at the back door of the professional building across the way.
He recognized the nurse. Her name was Rachel and he thought she was hot. He recognized the man in the doorway—a cop named Saldano, who had once arrested him. And, from what he’d heard, he was the cop who’d taken down Dev Bosky. He hadn’t liked Bosky much, but liked cops less. And then he saw the redhead in the wheelchair and all of a sudden his heart skipped a beat.
Dev was after the witness.
Cop was guarding witness.
Cop killed Dev.
Witness disappears from hospital.
Now cop comes out of doctor’s office with a woman in a wheelchair.
What were the odds that this woman was the missing witness? Damn good odds to bet on, that’s what.
Paco started to grin. He knew Baba was “out of town,” which translated to “in hiding.”
He stepped back from the window as the cop drove away and quickly made a call to the personal number Baba had given him. The phone rang and rang and then went to voice mail.
“Mr. Baba, this is Paco. I have some information about a certain missing witness you were looking for. I just saw a redhead coming out of the back of a doctor’s office with a cop named Saldano—the same cop who took Dev out. I don’t know where they’re keeping her, but it appears she’s still in Vegas under protective custody. I thought you would want to know.” Then he disconnected.
* * *
Quinn was an enigma.
Nick already knew she was closemouthed about her past and only shared bits and pieces of it when pushed to her limit, but the meds Dr. Munoz gave her also lowered her defenses.
From the time it had taken him to drive five city blocks, he’d heard her go from a little-girl voice saying prayers for God to rescue her, to an adult, angry voice telling some man named Rob that if he messed with her bike again, she was going to break his neck. When he stopped for a red light, the lack of motion roused her. She rose up, asked if this was where she got off to find the free health clinic, then lay back down without worrying about an answer. When she started crying, the sound of her sobs were so heartbreaking he couldn’t focus. He had always wanted to be someone’s knight in shining armor and had imagined over the years what kind of woman his damsel would be, but never would he have imagined a woman like Quinn O’Meara. She triggered every protective instinct he had, and the one night they’d spent making love had filled up the empty place in his heart. He knew she was broken, but he was damn good at fixing things. She was also funny, and brave, and she was a thief, because she’d already stolen his heart.
