Her Heart In Their Hands [The Tigers of Texas 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Em Ashcroft

  Despite her annoyance with Dr. Nathan’s attitude, she understood his annoyance. She didn’t like that somebody had died on her watch any more than he did. “We didn’t have time to get his history before he went upstairs. The staff looked through his clothes for ID and got busy on his driver’s license. He’s not a resident of Goldclaw.” She turned to the receptionist. “Have we had any luck with that, Harry?”

  Harry, her receptionist, silently handed her a printout. His hand shook. Although a shape-shifter, he wasn’t yet too experienced at his job, and Dr. Nathan was enough to intimidate anybody. Trinity glared at Dr. Nathan before turning her attention to the sheet.

  The pieces fell into place. She’d known something was wrong. She read of the patient’s precondition with a mixture of dismay and relief. The condition he’d had wasn’t discernible in the circumstances, but it did mean that he’d never had a chance. It wasn’t her fault, but she felt sorry she hadn’t known about it before. “Well there you are,” she said. She handed the report to Nathan. “He had Marfan Syndrome. The minute the trauma occurred he was a dead man.”

  In Marfan Syndrome, the connective tissue in the body was fragile. Such a severe blow to the heart and aorta was enough to kill him.

  He scanned the paper. “Shit.” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “I was wasting my time. Did we find any indication of his condition in his possessions? Some kind of notice or a warning tag?”

  “Nothing. If he had any medical records, they weren’t on his person.” It wouldn’t have been obvious to Nathan or anyone else handling the patient in the situation they’d faced. “His car was totaled. It’s a clusterfuck.” She glanced up and corrected herself. “Sorry, it’s a mess.” The hospital authorities didn’t like cursing on duty, and they were right. But at times like these only certain words would do. She picked up her tablet and read the details. “He was in the driver’s seat, strapped in. Maybe the other passengers can tell us more, but they’re being treated.”

  Dr. Graham, a young, cocky doctor and Trinity’s resident, arrived and glanced through the pad without her having to ask him.

  Dr. Nathan didn’t appear mollified by the news that nobody could have known. His eyes sparked fire. “It’s obvious we couldn’t have saved him. We’ve got to have protocol for this.”

  Trinity kept her voice steady, though she longed to rant right back at him. “What do you suggest? That we interrogate unconscious patients before we treat them? We did what we could. Someone went through his clothes for ID, medications and other indications of prior conditions. So what else? We’re not all mind-reading shape-shifters.”

  “Some of them are.” He glared at Dr. Graham. The resident planted his hands on his hips and glared back, and just like that, two tiger shifters faced off in her department. While both retained human form, their eyes turned feral, a precursor to a full shape-shift.

  “Why do I have to explain myself to you?” Dr. Graham demanded. “I didn’t ask the other patients because they weren’t in any state to answer anything coherently. The poor woman is unconscious. The kid is traumatized. The guy from the other car is still out. I won’t force telepathy on anyone, so what was I supposed to do? Wake up his wife and ask her if her husband had any rare conditions that might kill him?”

  Dr. Nathan lifted his chin and propped his hands on his hips.

  Trinity knew he was mad at himself more than anyone else. But in an emergency situation when the man was pumping out blood faster than they could put it in him, a fragile aorta had not been the first thing on their minds. Only stabilizing him.

  Without hesitation, Trinity stepped between them. They didn’t scare her, even if they could change into huge tigers at a moment’s notice. “If you want to tear each other to pieces, go outside. I don’t have the staff to clear up the mess you’d make. Stop it now.”

  Dr. Nathan stared at Trinity in silence, his eyes glowing with fury and frustration. “Save it. We’ll talk about it another time.” Thrusting the paper at her, he strode away.

  Angie, who had remained a silent witness to the exchange, put her hand on Trinity’s arm in a soothing gesture. “I changed my mind. Hotties don’t behave like that.”

  Trinity found herself making excuses for the surgeon. “He worked hard on the guy. He hates to lose anybody.”

  Angie snorted. “He might be brilliant, but he’s not a miracle worker. He had no right talking to you that way.”

  “You get used to it. Surgeons can be touchy.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a surgeon. You don’t tear strips off people in public. It’s a shame the guy died, but sometimes people can’t be saved.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  Trinity checked the clock. “I’ll take my break now. See you in twenty minutes.” Clipping her phone to her waistband, she set off for the canteen. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, but at least she could get out of the unit for a while. She might go outside for some much-needed fresh air.

  On her way to the elevators, she passed the supplies room. As she did so, the door opened and somebody grabbed her around the waist, dragging her inside. Her abductor slammed her against the door and brought his mouth down on hers.

  The whole incident had happened so quickly Trinity hadn’t had time to cry out. She lifted her hands and pushed against his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, grinding his lips against hers.

  By this time she knew who had grabbed her and why. Her libido rose, responding to the man she’d been secretly dating for months.

  Her hands relaxed, and she slid her hands down his arms, curling her fingers to grip his biceps. He thrust his leg between hers. Already wet, she ground her crotch against his thigh, which was clad in rough polyester scrubs. His hard leg brought her some relief but not nearly enough.

  He could always do this to her. From their first kiss to now, her hunger for him hadn’t abated one bit. She went home starving every night––for him.

  Nathan tore his lips from hers and gazed down at her. They were both panting. “I need you. Baby, I’m desperate.” Wildness shaded his eyes, and she knew losing the patient formed part of his need for her. She felt the same. The adrenaline, plus the need to prove they were alive after seeing such traumatic death, drove them to frantic desire.

  He cradled one breast in his big hand while she scrabbled at his pants. Finally, she found the top so she could get her hand inside and grip his hard, pulsing cock. The tip was wet with his pre-cum.

  Nathan dragged her clothes off, tugging her panties out of the way impatiently. He paused only to snick the lock closed and move them to the wall by the door, which was a bit more solid.

  Desperation filled her. She needed him like she needed her heart to keep beating. He meant that much to her. She’d felt dejected when he’d walked away, which was fucking stupid because he had to do it.

  What else could she do but give him everything she had?

  When he lifted her, she curled her legs around his waist, opening her cunt so he could push inside. He grunted and slid deep. His head went back, thumping against the wall, and he exhaled in a long, ecstatic sigh. “Oh, baby, you are the best.” He bent back down to kiss her.

  Trinity curved one hand around the back of his neck, holding him close as he pumped into her, driving her toward her fast-oncoming climax. She let it happen, just as he’d taught her, and gave herself up to it.

  Before she’d hooked up with Nathan, Trinity had tried too hard in bed. She was always working, forcing her orgasms before she was on to the next thing, checking her life off on an invisible list. Nathan had shown her how to live in the now. He said he had to when he was in the OR, but he’d learned it from people so seriously ill they didn’t know if they’d live another day. “It doesn’t matter if you’re always in the now,” had become his mantra, and he’d shown it to Trinity.

  She reveled in the waves of arousal reaching to every part of her body, washing over her until she drowned in the seductive waves. The sound o
f her wet pussy colliding with his groin accompanied them like a well-remembered tune, adding to the experience of fucking her lover.

  As he worked his cock deep into her pussy, he grunted at the end of every stroke, a barely-there puff of breath against her cheek. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know he was watching her. Nathan loved to watch.

  Only when he kissed her again, plunging his tongue deep in time with his thrusts did she realize she must have been making a noise. She heard his laughter deep in her mind, and his words, I don’t mind them finding us. But do you? came through with the effortless telepathy they now shared. She’d never let anyone into her mind before, not her previous shape-shifter boyfriends, nor anyone else, but Nathan had found a way. She welcomed him in and let him share what she was experiencing.

  The tease made her gasp and with the inevitability of a train crashing over a crossing, she passed the threshold and came.

  Her cunt pulsed, throbbing in time to the accelerated beat of her heart. She jerked, pressing her back against the wall to bring her pelvis into better alignment with his.

  A gush of wetness and a groan into her mouth told her he’d followed hard on the edge of her orgasm. He dropped his forehead, wet with sweat, to her shoulder, and they stayed there for a minute, enjoying the aftermath of their loving.

  “Fuck, you’re good,” she muttered. “And you could hold me for longer, couldn’t you?”

  A shaky chuckle provided her answer before he reached around to help her unhook her legs. Holding her waist, he drew away from her, releasing the heady scent of fresh sex and a gush of liquid.

  Trinity regained her balance, holding on to him for a moment. He grinned, totally unabashed.

  She looked around and found a roll of paper towels. Pulling a few off, she wiped herself and grimaced. “I can’t rely on this to get me through the next couple of hours. I need a shower.”

  “You probably need a scrubbing brush. A shape-shifter’s sense of smell is off the charts.”

  She groaned again, and he laughed softly. “Why not go public? I don’t care who knows we’re together.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “Maybe. But I…” She had no words. She’d steadfastly refused to become his public girlfriend. She didn’t want to become a public notch on his bedpost. For the last six months, they’d been dancing around, pretending they weren’t fucking their brains out.

  She’d hated the level of speculation that had run around her department when she’d dated someone else. And she’d hated the sympathy she received when he’d moved on to another woman.

  Maybe she was over that now. Maybe she could move on, too. “Can we talk about it later?”

  He raised a dark brow. “Sure. My place?”

  It was nice of him to offer. He had a much larger place than hers. Trinity had focused too hard on her work to bother to find a good place to live. She had a small apartment conveniently close to the hospital. For all the time she spent in it, it served her well enough. She nodded. “I’m off in two hours.”

  He grimaced. “Four for me. Here.” Shoving his hand in his pocket, he came out with a bunch of keys. He detached one and gave it to her. “Put 9538 into the security keypad when you get in the garage.”

  “Sure.” Or the alarms would wake the dead. He regularly changed the PIN, which was why he had to keep telling her the new number.

  He said nothing but gave her a quizzical look. “I know that guy’s death wasn’t anybody’s fault except the man who smashed into him. The case frustrated me. I thought we’d got him back.”

  She cupped his cheek in a tender gesture. “I know,” she said softly and kissed him. She wouldn’t tell him her desperation just now had matched his. He probably knew already. The explosion of adrenaline sometimes following times like these had to go somewhere, and lucky for her, it had come her way.

  She drew away reluctantly. “I’d better go get that shower,” she said.

  As she turned, he caught her and drew her close for a final kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

  Her mood lightened. “You can bet on it.”

  * * * *

  The hospital shower didn’t perform as well as it should, but by turning and twisting under the stream, Trinity managed to scrub off Nathan’s scent. At least she thought she did, though she could never be sure. Shape-shifters could sometimes scent what she’d had for dinner the night before, even though she’d cleaned her teeth and showered. But she didn’t have any strong perfumes to mask the scent, and people would think it strange if she suddenly started using it. She’d left for food, but she had no time now. Maybe a garlic sandwich would mask her guilt.

  This was ridiculous. But her natural inclination to keep her head down had made her insist Nathan keep their affair secret. They were mad for each other, and she didn’t know how long it would last. Affairs like theirs didn’t last long, in her experience. She didn’t want the pitying looks and sympathetic mutters at the reception desk. She hated for anyone to feel sorry for her.

  After scrambling into fresh scrubs, she made her way back to her unit. Forcing herself back into work mode proved more difficult than usual. It wasn’t every day the man she was falling deeply in love with fucked her in a supply closet. Her reaction to Nathan worried her, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

  Back at the unit, someone was waiting for her. Forcing a friendly smile, she went forward to greet him. Chris Goldclaw was the police captain of Goldclaw, a fine, black-haired, blue-eyed hunk of a man. Trinity had dated him for a while. But he and his breed partner had connected with their breedmate, and she was toast. Trinity didn’t precisely know how breedmates linked up because it was a personal thing, but the way she’d heard, it involved sex. Both at once.

  She turned hot when she imagined Chris with his breed partner, Odell, lavishing that kind of attention on her. She had turned it into a nighttime fantasy, one she’d shared with only her vibrator. She’d dated Chris but never shared with Odell. Either because Odell didn’t want her or Chris sensed her reluctance. At any rate, he’d never asked her. Now she’d probably never know because Nathan was a singleton, a shape-shifter without a breed partner.

  She masked her response to him. In fact, her feelings had turned to a warm friendship. She doubted she’d recover from Nathan the same way. Her feelings for Nathan had zoomed of control, and while she’d tried to master them, she hadn’t yet managed the feat. “Chris, good to see you. How can we help you? Is it about the RTA?”

  “What?” He frowned. “Oh, yes. That’s it. Can we talk somewhere private?”

  “Sure. How are Odell and Renata?” Chris and Odell had bonded with a rare creature—a female shape-shifter. Trinity could never have competed with Renata, but she couldn’t resent her, either. Renata was beautiful, stylish, and savvy. Also, one of the most generous people Trinity had ever met.

  “They’re fine, Trin.” Only Chris called her Trin, and she’d never gotten around to telling him she didn’t like it. It had taken a while for her to accept Chris had moved on. That was when she’d gotten all the sympathetic looks and smiles and hated it.

  All her life she’d shied from attention paid on her. She downplayed her looks and discouraged any special treatment. Now Chris was a friend, with a tinge of could-have-been. She could work with him again, which was just as well since their roles often intermeshed.

  They walked together to her office, little more than a cupboard since she’d given office space to more important things. “Would you like coffee?”

  “I’ll pass on the coffee, thanks. I’m trying to cut down.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Shall we get the official stuff done? I’ll send you the official reports of the RTA. I need your reports on the injuries. I arrived at the scene when the steam was still rising from the cars, so I’m satisfied it happened like it was set out. I only have one piece to fit into the picture, and I can close the matter.”

  “What’s that?”

  He sighed and took off his hat, perching it on the
arm of his chair. “We’re missing somebody. The collision involved two cars, one going too fast, but there was another vehicle on the scene. The car heading for Goldclaw had one driver. He’s upstairs, unconscious. Concussion, the nurses tell me, but he should be okay. I need to talk to him when he comes around. I think he was speeding, which will make him responsible for that poor guy’s death.” He grimaced. “It’s a straight stretch of road, and there aren’t any cameras nearby. We have the evidence on the ground, that’s all, but we can deduce a lot from what we have. When we examine the cars, we can tell more.”

  “Go on.”

  “We found a third set of tire tracks. Someone was pursuing the man heading for Goldclaw. It’s that second vehicle I need to trace. It swerved around the two cars involved in the accident and carried on. Damn good driving. The accident was head-on. The guy who died was probably driving his family back to Houston after a day out in Goldclaw. We found shopping bags from some Goldclaw boutiques in the trunk and he’s a resident of Houston.”

  She nodded. Chris had to eliminate any suggestion of foul play, and reconstruct the scene to discover who, if anyone, was at fault. “So what do you think?”

  “It could be the person or people in the car following will come forward. I want to know why they didn’t remain at the scene and, of course, what they saw.”

  Chris thrust a hand through the short strands of his black hair. “I need to interview the man upstairs and the survivors from the other vehicle. I take it you’re keeping them apart?”

  Nobody wanted a fight to break out on hospital premises, so they’d keep the people from the RTA rigorously separated. She nodded. Chris knew hospital protocol as well as she did, and he wouldn’t barge in without checking with the doctors and managers first. “They’re all here.” She told him which units and he nodded.

  “At least there was only one fatality.” He sighed. “I hate any at all, but it could have been worse.”

  She nodded. “I’ll get the records to you as soon as possible.” Chris would need to know the patient maps—the detailed diagrams of the injuries and how they occurred—to help him verify what he’d deduced. If the patient hadn’t died, the case wouldn’t have been as urgent, but if the driver of the other car was speeding, he was conceivably guilty of manslaughter. Or even murder.