by JJ Lamb
“He’s never been that way around me in CCU,” Harry said. “He’s not a warm, slap-on-the-back kind of guy, but I thought he was all right.”
“Yeah, but you’re a man,” Gina said. “I’ll bet he treats you a lot differently. I’m with Helen. I’ve worked with him in CCU and there’s no doubt he’s a condescending ass.”
“Now his partners in crime, Bob Cantor and Jon Brichett, are really great,” Helen said.
“I like them, too,” Gina said. “I spoke to Cantor about Lolly. That’s how she wiggled her way into the job.”
“Is that Lolly Stenz? Our Lolly from the home turf?” Vinnie said. “Why haven’t you told me she was in town?”
“Truthfully, I haven’t seen much of her since she arrived,” Gina said. “She literally blew into town and needed a job right away, and off she went. That was only two months ago. I’ve only seen her once since she started working.”
“What’s she doing out here?” Vinnie laughed. “I mean, I could have sworn she was a die-hard New Yorker.”
“She had her reasons, but it seems Tallent hired her for his office OR and Recovery Unit. Now there’s some kind of problem.” Gina emptied the rest of the spaghetti onto her plate and took another piece of garlic bread. “Lolly thinks he’s doing something unethical.”
“Wait a minute!” Helen said. “Isn’t Tallent the one whose wife was murdered about a year ago?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I vaguely remember the gossip about that. Wasn’t she screwing around with one of the PTs?”
“Shoot, even I remember some talk about that,” Vinnie said.
“I told Gina not to get involved. Let Lolly iron out her own problems.” Harry did an all-around refill of the red wine. “But I can tell from the look in her eye, she’s not listening to me.”
Gina gave him the look and said, “She’s my friend. I can’t ignore anyone as scared as she is, much less a friend.”
Vinnie suddenly had that frightened fixed stare. “Stay out of it, Gina!” Vinnie said. “I can’t take a chance of losing you again. You hear me? Stay out of it!”
Harry jumped up, gently took Vinnie’s arm, and walked him off into the living room.
Gina felt her heart clawing at her chest. “I’m sorry, Helen. I thought Vinnie’s PTSD was so much better. She lifted her wine glass with a shaking hand and took a small sip. “I should have known better than to say anything.”
“He’s so improved even I forget,” Helen said. “But he still has nightmares, even though it’s rare now. She reached across the table and took Gina’s hand. “He’s very protective when it comes to you.” Helen chuckled. “You’d think you were the younger one, rather than it being the other way around.”
“Maybe I should go in and talk to him,” Gina said.
“He’ll be fine. Harry’s the best medicine in the world for Vinnie.” Helen looked at Gina with a worried face. “But really, I hope you’re not planning to get into this situation with your friend Lolly Stenz.”
Gina turned away and softly said, “I just don‘t know.”
Chapter 7
Vlad Folo’s eyes snapped open.
He held very still, sniffed the air. There was only the smell of the female next to him—that and the rank smell of his own sweat.
When he was sure he could sense no movement in his studio apartment, he allowed his head to move from side-to-side.
Yes, he’d awakened with a jolt from the same dream—the one where he’s hiding in his parents’ closet, looking through the thin slats at his naked mother bound to the bed—arms tied to the headboard, feet spread and lashed to the bed frame, mouth gagged and silenced. He could hear her grunts as she tried to suck in air.
Mamoushka!
Two men stood over her arguing about who was going first.
Twelve-year-old Vlad knew what they were talking about even before the taller man opened his fly and let his cock spring out of his pants.
Vlad’s eyes shifted to his father, who sat in a chair, arms tied behind his back, shouting, “You devils, you’ll rot in hell!”
The tall man hovered over his mother, laughing. “Maybe so, traitor, but you’ll already be there keeping everything nice and warm for me. Did you think running away would end it, would allow you to cheat our people? Did you really think you’d get away? You can’t be that stupid to think that we were finished with you just because you ran away to America?”
“Bastard!”
The other man walked up to his father and punched him in the face. “Shut up or I’ll cut out your tongue.”
His mother shifted her hips, trying to get away as the man jumped on the bed and mounted her, squeezed her hard with his thighs. He grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled up until she was lifted enough so he could plunge himself inside of her. He rammed her, over and over, faster and harder, clutching her shoulders while the slap of his body against hers tore through the air.
Vlad covered his mouth to keep from screaming.
No, Mamoushka. No!
The man soon let out a cry and collapsed. He lay there like a rag doll until the other man yanked at his arm, half pulling him off, then took his place. The other man’s pants was already opened and lowered. He jammed himself inside of her, too, his bottom pumped while he yelled, “Bitch, bitch, bitch!”
His father screamed, “Yóp tvayú mát”
The tall man zipped up his pants and in an easy stride, walked up to his father, pulled out a knife, and carved a straight line from his father’s mouth, down his chin, and onto his chest—his screams were silenced when the man jammed a balled up handkerchief in his mouth. But the air still vibrated with, “Bitch, bitch, bitch!”
“Did you think you were safe from your friends in Minsk?”
Go away. Go away.
Vlad swallowed hard, held his breath to keep from screaming.
It seemed like only a few minutes since his father pushed him into the closet and said, “If they know you’re here, they will kill you.” He’d kissed Vlad. “I’m sorry, but you will be on your own from now on, and you must hide to survive. They will never stop looking for you.”
His father’s face was turned to Vlad with eyes that burned through the closet slats into his. The tall man slit his father’s throat—blood sprayed everywhere.
Without a word, the man made a sweeping turn to the bed and slashed across his mother’s throat. A fountain of blood sprayed onto the man on top of her.
“You bastard!” the man snarled. “You couldn’t wait?”
“Finish! Get off! We have to go.”
Tentacles of ice spread through Vlad’s chest, his whole body.
Goodbye, Papa.
Goodby, Mama
* * *
Vlad would allow the woman to sleep a few more minutes. Then he would pay her, throw her out.
The dream always made him restless. It was all that was left of his parent’s existence.
His father had warned him from the time he was very little—right after they arrived in America—there would be people who would come to kill them. It would happen no matter how hard they tried to hide.
Vlad knew if he was lucky now, he might get away—for a while. But, sooner or later they would find him too.
He had lived with an axe over his head every day since his parents were murdered. He knew the assassins would come. He didn’t care anymore.
He dug an elbow into the woman. “Get up! Get out!”
The woman was startled. “Cut it out!” She sprang from the bed, her hair an entangled mess.
In the blink of an eye he was standing up next to her—his fingers raked through her hair and tightened. “What did you say, whore?”
She tried to bow her head. “I’m sorry, Vlad.” He released her and she looked at him with pleading eyes, repeated, ”I’m sorry.”
There was iciness in his chest. It was always there before a kill.
“Please!” She dropped to her knees. “Please, Vlad!”
“Get out of h
ere now before I change my mind.”
She grabbed her clothes from a chair, hurried into the bathroom, and was soon dressed and gone.
Vlad thought about the dream again. Thought about his father, who ran from those men in Minsk. It was the same musclemen who forced his father to warehouse drugs. One day, he’d had enough. He refused to live like a criminal. They fled the country and came to live in San Francisco.
There had been no friends, Vlad was homeschooled, and it was a world with only the three of them.
Until the Russians found them.
After that, Vlad lived on the streets, eventually became a hit man for one of the street gangs. When he turned eighteen, he cut himself loose. He didn’t like being told what to do. Everyone they sent to teach him a lesson, died a horrible death.
Soon, they stopped trying to kill the Hit Man.
It was also during this time that Vlad found the Pai Gow games in San Francisco’s China Town. They were exciting, diverting ... and expensive. Sometimes he had to take on jobs that were not to his liking, but the people who ran the underground Pai Gow games didn’t care what he liked or didn’t like. Losses were to be paid, or else.
Today, Vlad wondered again why he had that same dream over and over. It was more like a memory file, a visual diary of what happened to his parents—as though it was something he never wanted to forget.
But that would be wrong.
He wanted that memory of being powerless to be erased.
Chapter 8
Gina’s classic Fiat Spider was acting up again, sputtering and threatening to die. She tried to give it more gas to keep it alive and moving, but it just ignored her and gave out.
She could feel the heat climbing up her neck. She muttered under her breath, “You nasty little traitor.” Harry laughed at her.
“You knew it had to happen sooner or later,” Harry said. “It hasn’t conked out for months.”
She got out of the car, reached into the jump seat for her apron, gloves, and tool box. Armed with her scrubs’ protection, she walked to the front and lifted the hood.
“Need a hand, little girl?” Harry said, coming around the car. She knew he was watching her go through her routine—after all, this wasn’t the first time she’d been in this situation with her little old lady.
Instead of going through her usual mental check list, she went right to what she thought was causing the problem. And she was right.
She lifted the distributor cap, and said, “Look at that crud.” Caked inside was a slew of what looked like hardened green mold. “Why does it keep doing that?”
“”Well, if you keep a car outside, it’s going to pick up moisture and other junk.”
“Harry Lucke, stop talking logic to me at a time like this. Can’t you see I’m pissed?”
She looked up at him and when their eyes met they started laughing. “Besides, since when did logic ever have anything to do with my Fiat?”
“You know, doll, we could probably afford a new car, or at least a newer Fiat. I told you about Fiat bringing out a new 124 Spyder after all these years. Maybe we wouldn’t have to go through this routine once a week or more.”
“She’s been behaving for a long time. You said so yourself. Besides, how often do I have to tell you to stop calling me doll.” She was almost finished cleaning out the cap. “It sounds sexist and demeaning.”
“Right, because you’re a woman with dainty little fingers who sits around all day eating chocolates and watching the soaps.”
She gave him a bright smile as she closed the hood and restored everything to the back seat. “Just promise you won’t do it around anyone else.”
“Scout’s honor.”
She climbed in, hit the ignition, and the car started immediately. She leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him more than a friendly kiss. “I don’t know why, but every time you say ‘doll,’ I want to toss you in the bed and seduce you. So don’t do it again.”
“Okay, doll.”
* * *
The minute Gina stepped into the nurses’ station, the team leader said, “Mazzio head on over to the Cath Lab. You’re filling in.”
“But I’ve only observed the procedure a couple of times.” Her heart was galloping. She didn’t like being thrown into new situations, but she wanted to be able to work in any part of Ridgewood’s new CCU wing. At least she had some training for the Cath Lab.
The team leader was giving her the steely-eyed look.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way.”
Gina walked to the far end of the CCU and the minute she walked into the procedure room area, Bob Cantor called to her, “Hi, Gina. Well, well, somebody’s watching out for me today. I specifically requested you ... and here you are.”
“Thanks, Bob. Hope I can live up to the hype. I’ve never scrubbed in the Cath Lab before. I’ve mostly been an observer—so don’t expect wonders.”
“You’ll be fine.”
She could see through the glass windows that everything was already set up and the patient was on the table. The circulating nurse looked as though she was talking to the patient and about to give her IV conscious sedation.
Gina let out a huge breath of air to calm herself. The really tricky part—making sure the sterile field had everything that was needed for the procedure—was already done.
Thank God!
Whoever set up had probably already checked to make certain all the equipment was functioning properly, especially the viewing monitors and the floor-to-ceiling image intensifier. Then they would have tested the X-Ray software for recording and playback of the fluoroscopy runs. All of which would have to be ready and available during the procedure.
It was nice to have everything in place, but it still made Gina uneasy. She hoped all the catheters, balloons stents, and everything else were where they were supposed to be under the sheet covering the sterile field. She liked to set up her own sterile fields for any procedure she was scrubbing in for, but the-ready-to-go array really was a gift today.
Gina went into the locker room area and changed into a fresh scrubs, put on her shoe covers and cap, and joined Bob Cantor in the pre-surgical scrub area. Mask on, she also began scrubbing under her nails and skin, brushing methodically and moving slowly up her arms.
“Thanks for sending Lolly Stenz over,” he said. “She’s not only top notch, she’s really nice and easy to work with, even though she has that same funny accent you have.”
“You better watch it, Bob. We don’t get mad at people who diss us, we just get even.”
“Funny, Lolly said the exact same thing. You two must be cloned, even though you have different hair and faces.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Do you think she likes our office OR and setup? I’d really like to hang onto her if we can,” Bob said.
“I don’t know.” Gina continued to scrub. “I do think she’d rather work only with you.”
He blinked and his face flushed under his mask—maybe Bob Cantor also had some concerns of his own about Morton Tallent.
“If my nurse hadn’t been with me for the last five years,” he said, “I’d say it was a go.” His eyes filled with concern. “Is there some kind of problem?”
The circulating nurse stuck her head in. “The patient is juiced and ready.”
“Okay, we’re there,” Bob said, and they were through the door and into the cath lab.
Chapter 9
Mort Tallent was jumpy, certain Maria Benke was about to destroy his reputation before she could be silenced. He raced through his hospital rounds, had a hurried lunch, and went to the health club to find Vlad.
Rosia, the large-breasted receptionist, gave him a knowing leer and asked him to have a seat. When she turned around, her shapely ass held his attention until she was out of sight.
She looked familiar—he wondered if she worked for one of the private clubs, like The Madam. He’d only been there once. All of the women there looked alike, with their dark, heavy eye s
hadow and mascara. But he was always more interested in their bulging breasts and vulva-pinching tights than their faces.
He sat down and in a few moments the woman came back. “He’ll be out soon.”
Mort ignored her and kept glancing at his watch—if Vlad didn’t show up soon he would have to leave for his office appointments without seeing him.
He tried to stay calm, but his stomach was on fire ... bile kept creeping up the back of his throat.
Where the hell is the bastard?
A hand fell on his shoulder, and when he turned his head, Vlad was looking down at him with a pasted-on smile.
“So, Doctor, what can I do for you today? Are you here for one of Vlad’s specials?” He curled and straightened his fingers in a way that made Mort cringe.
Mort tried, but he couldn’t hide his anger. “You know damn well why I’m here,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I make no assumptions.”
“You wanted twenty-five grand up front and I gave you what you asked for.” Mort had to swallow hard to keep from spitting out the words. “You took the money but you haven’t kept your part of our agreement.”
Vlad sat down on the bench next to him, placed a hand gently on his thigh, then squeezed the muscles so hard Mort’s leg went numb.
Fear replaced anger.
“You remember when I handled that problem you had with your wife?” Vlad’s hand never let up. Mort wanted to cry out, couldn’t dare. “I took care of it in my own way, in my own time, Doctor. Remember?”
Vlad finally let go of Mort’s leg. He could breathe again.
“I don’t want the woman to open her mouth and talk to the others,” Mort said softly. “If that happens, I’m finished.”
Vlad ignored him. “It looks like our little receptionist has eyes for you, Doc. Maybe I could arrange a little session, strictly professional, you know. She has a way of satisfying and easing those unnecessary fears.”
Mort looked at the woman. She was smiling and running her tongue lightly over her lips. His buttocks clenched. He felt himself getting hard.
