Her L.A. Knight

by Lynne Marshall

  “Get the adult ambubag from the crash cart,” Rick said, over his shoulder. The first orderly sprinted across the room.

  “We’ll use a two-man carry to transport this patient. China? You’ll man the ambubag once we’ve removed Mr.…” he looked at the patient’s wristband and squinted in the dim emergency back-up lights “…Mr. Aziz, from the ventilator.” Rick eyed the first young orderly who’d just returned with the portable oxygen. “You and I will carry him. I’ll take the head, you take the feet. China, you’ll stay by me and assist with his respirations. OK?”

  The orderly nodded, already moving into position. China did the same.

  Mr. Aziz flashed a look of terror. Rick bent close to his face and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Sir, this lovely nurse…” he pointed across the bed to China, and the patient moved his eyes slowly her way “…is going to replace the ventilator. She’ll make sure you get plenty of oxygen.”

  The other orderly jogged back with the ambubag, handing it to China. She held it so Mr. Aziz could examine it. “See? I’ll use this respirator to breathe for you. You’ll be fine.”

  Once she saw the anxiety ease from his tense face, she connected the tubing to the portable oxygen tank and cranked it up to 15 liters. After removing the ventilator tubing, she placed the ambubag firmly over the patient’s tracheostomy, and nodded for Rick to shut down the ventilator.

  He followed her command before the machine had a chance to make one beep of warning. The room suddenly went quiet after the ventilator took its last mechanized breath.

  On cue, China used both hands to compress the large bellows over the patient’s windpipe.

  One and two and three and let go. One and two and three and four and five. Compress, again, for three. Relax for five.

  The other orderly placed the oxygen canister next to the patient on the sheet for easier transport.

  Rick removed the IV from the bedside infusion machine. He adjusted the flow to a keep-open rate, and placed it on the patient’s trunk, then put the urine catheter bag between the patient’s legs. Turning off the bedside monitor, he removed the leads from the man’s malnourished chest.

  Using the draw sheet, Rick anchored the oxygen tank tightly to the patient’s trunk by knotting the ends around his torso.

  “Are you all set?” he asked Mr. Aziz, before he made the final move.

  When the elderly man nodded his OK, Rick tucked his forearms under the patient’s armpits and used his chest to support the head and shoulders. The orderly slid Mr. Aziz’s feet to the edge of the mattress. Rick pointed out something to the orderly, and he replaced a thin hospital slipper on one of the patient’s sock-covered feet in final preparation for the lift.

  On the count of three, the patient was in the air and being moved out of the room.

  China focused on the job at hand and followed closely beside the two-man team. Rick and the orderly, doing the hardest part, carried the snugly wrapped patient toward the stairway.

  She continued her ministrations with the equipment, making sure the patient was properly oxygenated. The frail, elderly man looked at her with dilated pupils and tension in his eyes. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her lips quivered.

  “We’ve got you. Don’t worry,” came Rick’s confident voice.

  She felt his solid strength each time she compressed the bellows of the ambubag. Like a rock, he moved steadily across the hospital ward, giving her silent reassurance, for which both she and Mr. Aziz, judging by the eased look in his eyes, were grateful.

  When they arrived at the stairway, it got crowded. The other nurse and orderly opened the door, having planned to stay behind with the remaining patient. The orderly helping them took the feet first, holding each one through the loop of his muscular arm in a partial piggyback hold. China had to squeeze herself between the wall and Rick to keep in touch with the mask and her patient in the narrow stairwell. She kept at a three-quarter forward facing position to help maneuver down the stairs safely, afraid her weakened legs might give out. After five surgical procedures and two years of rehab, the last thing she needed was to miss a step and fall down a flight of stairs.

  Slowly but surely they made it down each of the five flights of stairs to the ground floor, and eventually to the ER.

  To their amazement, a stopgap station had been prepared for the patient, complete with a narrow gurney and a portable ventilator.

  A respiratory therapist took over for China, allowing her to stretch her back and shake out her aching hands and legs. She was grateful she hadn’t worn the shoes Rick had been so disappointed about earlier. Nothing like sports shoes for hard work.

  A firm hand pressed against her waist. “Why don’t you head over to your station?” Rick said, causing a rush of tingles to shoot up her spine. With concern in his eyes, he searched her face. “I’m bringing Chuck here to help with that last transport.”

  She glanced at the physically fit, middle-aged male ER nurse, and made a snap decision. “OK.”

  Rick smiled, and for the briefest moment China thought he might lean in and kiss her again before he left. That aggravating sparkle in his eyes made it both hard and easy to say goodbye. She squirmed under his scrutiny and said, “You’d better get going.”

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, with more confidence than she could take.

  She tossed her head and rolled her eyes, with an “as if” attitude. It only made him grin more.

  Amidst controlled chaos, she watched the nurse and the orderly, but especially Rick, exit the room. His broad shoulders and narrow hips were a sight to behold. A warm blush tickled up her cheeks. What was he doing to her good sense?

  Changing directions and shaking her head, she wondered how in the world the lift team would manage to get the last patient—obese and comatose—down five flights of stairs and into the ER without anyone getting a back injury.

  And she worried about Rick.

  At five a.m. China needed a break. She’d worked non-stop in the urgent care section, cleaning cuts, dressing larger wounds, even stitching up a patient or two.

  Her legs and hips ached, and she needed water and fuel for energy. She wandered to the bank of fast-food machines on the outskirts of the nurses’ lounge and dropped a few quarters in.

  “I’ve heard that if you eat enough of that junk food, it can kill you.”

  Thrilled to hear Rick’s voice again, she turned with a smile. He returned the favor with a dashing grin, and handed her a bottle of water.

  “Thanks.”

  “Things have settled down in the ER and the night shift is taking over now, so why don’t we take a break?” He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers, leading her to the cafeteria.

  The code orange team had done an impeccable job of setting things up. Cots with folded blankets were placed around the periphery of the large room, allowing exhausted hospital workers to rest for brief periods of time. Several employees were doing so now. The lights were dim, and China walked quietly so as not to disturb them.

  Rick whisked by one of the vacant cots and snatched up a blanket with his free hand. Both drawn to and leery of his commanding lead, she followed him to the corner of the cafeteria where a long booth lined the wall.

  “Sit,” he said, dropping her hand.

  She immediately missed the heat of his grasp. Too tired to protest, she sat like she’d been told, on the stain-resistant, burnt-orange cafeteria bench.

  A few minutes later he came back with two cups of hot coffee and a bag of mixed nuts. China had unwrapped her granola bar, broken it in two and offered half to Rick. He popped the oats and honey morsel into his mouth in one bite and chomped away.

  She sipped her coffee, amazed that somewhere along the way he’d noticed she took cream and no sugar.

  “How’d you know?” She lifted her styrofoam cup.

  “ER lounge. I only look like I’m oblivious to the world. Nothing much gets by me.” He smiled. “It’s my military training.”


  “Gosh,” was all she could think of to say. She took a sip then nibbled on a cashew. “So tell me, how’d you guys get that comatose patient down to the ER?”

  He laughed and took a swig of his steaming coffee. “You won’t believe what happened.” He popped a few nuts into his mouth and chewed vigorously. “We used a gurney, and it took four of us, plus the nurse who was bagging the patient, to get her to the stairwell. We’d strapped her on the gurney to keep her from sliding, since we’d decided to glide her down the stairs.”

  His dazzling brown eyes captured her full attention. Amazed at her new burst of energy from just sitting next to Rick, China prompted him with a go-on grin.

  “You know what I like about you?” he said.

  Her smile tightened at the thought of things getting personal. He didn’t wait for her answer his rhetorical question.

  “When you smile, you put your tongue behind your teeth. That’s really cute.”

  Her face blazed with embarrassment, and she shut her mouth.

  “Now I’ve ruined it.” He cleared his throat, gave a scowl of disappointment and got back on target. “Anyway, we’d managed to get the patient to the third floor when we heard the engineers announce over the PA system that the elevators had been inspected and were good to go again.” He grinned. “You mean you didn’t hear us cheer in the stairwell? We almost woke up the comatose lady.”

  She laughed, and shook her head, enjoying every second of watching Rick. His expressive dark eyes, wavy brown hair, strong jaw and, oh, that cleft in his chin were almost more than she could bear.

  He caught her appreciation, revelled in the exchange and finally continued. “Yeah. So we exited the nearest landing and hitched a ride on the elevator the rest of the way down.” He covered her hand and played with her fingers. “She’s fine,” he said reassuringly. “She’ll be fine.”

  One look and China realized that Rick really did give a damn about his patients. He’d proved that over and over during the long night. Somehow she knew that he would have done whatever it took to get that woman where she needed to be. Unthinking, she squeezed his hand. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

  Chills shot up her arm and fanned across her chest.

  “You look really tired,” he said, concern in his eyes.

  “I don’t have to tell you how hard it’s been.”

  His hand brushed her cheek and caught a wisp of hair between his thumb and forefinger. He curled it around his finger and studied it intently for a second before smiling at her, as if he wanted to give her a hug.

  She got lost in his deep, dark eyes, and before she could prepare herself he blindsided her with a kiss, again.

  He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers for one quick beat. Immediately caught up in the moment, she was surprised when he moved back and looked into her eyes, as if making sure she was OK with his kiss.

  Oh, yeah. She was more than OK with kissing him. She’d stopped several times during the course of the night, remembering how heavenly it had felt when they’d kissed at his house. Each time chills had shot up her spine with the memory. When had that happened, ever?

  She chased his lips with her own and kissed him back. He moaned quietly, and when it was apparent that she didn’t mind, he opened his mouth and covered hers. His tongue darted into her eager mouth, and her hands flew up to his neck. She tangled her fingers through his thick hair. His breath was hot across her face. He teased and withdrew, only to dive in again for more and deeper kisses.

  She groaned, and briefly thought about the fact that they were in the hospital cafeteria, but cast the thought right out of her head, savoring his touch and deciding that after the earthquake it could be considered extenuating circumstances. If anyone intended to practice good sense, it would have to be him, definitely not her. Not now.

  She’d just captured his lower lip between hers when she felt him pull back. His hooded, intent eyes flashed a warning. One more step, and there would be no turning back.

  Coming to her senses, as though climbing through a fog, China forced the voice of reason into her mind.

  Not here. Not now.

  And to emphasize the point, Mother Nature threw her two cents in. A mild aftershock vibrated the table and booth. She bit her lower lip, sighed and looked longingly into his eyes.

  He cleared his throat and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “Damn,” he said. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Her own inner earthquake helped her sober up. She moved away and sipped her coffee, feeling suddenly prim. “I could ask the same question.”

  “Well, here’s a novel idea. Why don’t we take a nap? You look exhausted, honey.”

  She pinched his cheek. “What’d I tell you about calling me that?”

  He raised his hands in surrender and grinned. “I can’t help it, the name suits you.”

  She gave him an incredulous stare. “Never in my life have I ever done anything warranting that name.”

  “Not yet, anyway.” He gave an over-confident, knowing grin and took another sip of coffee.

  Wanting to take offense, China tried her best to feel insulted. Instead, deep tingling coursed through her core. How was she supposed to be able to sleep now?

  Rick angled himself into the corner of the cafeteria booth. He lifted one leg onto the bench and motioned for China to snuggle in with him.

  “Come on. I won’t bite.” Looking worn out, with deep-set, tired eyes, he grinned. “I might nibble a little on your earlobe, but I promise I won’t bite.”

  Against her better judgement, China turned and shifted and edged her way between the V of his legs. And after a great deal of adjustment she allowed herself to rest against the firm expanse of his chest, using his shoulder as her pillow.

  His strong arms encircled her and held her tight. She nuzzled her head between his chin and shoulder and, completely exhausted, dared to relax for the first time that night.

  He covered both of them with the blanket, and an odd feeling crept up her spine. She felt completely and utterly safe. Soaking in his warmth and solid chest, along with every fiber of his masculinity, she sighed, amazed by the secure feeling.

  An unwelcome longing for a normal life, the life she’d expected to have with her fiancé just before he’d dumped her three years ago, made her tense up. It had been a fool’s dream anyway, one she’d never achieve.

  Taking the cue from her vulnerability, old guilt whispered, You don’t deserve this. Why should you be happy? She gritted her teeth and stayed completely still, waiting for the familiar feelings of dread to pass.

  Within seconds Rick had gone silent and still. His deep, even breathing lulled her to rest. Focusing on the here and now, and pushing old torment aside, she let her tension go, as if launching a boat. Soon she managed to follow him across the inviting, lazy river of rest toward sleep.

  A mild aftershock and a shadow blocking the sun from the cafeteria window woke Rick. Memories of an earthquake came into focus before his eyes could. The disapproving stare from his father made him sit bolt upright, alerting China.

  With stubborn resolve he willed himself to move slowly, rubbing his hand through his disheveled hair. He was damned if he’d give his father any satisfaction about taking him by surprise.

  China stirred from her position snuggling close to his chest.

  He smoothed her hair and looked lazily at his father. He stretched, feigning nonchalance, while defiance set in.

  “Why, good morning, Father. What brings you to the eating place of common employees?”

  “All things considered, I believe your break is up,” Dr. Morell replied.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE next few days were a blur. China worked double shifts over the weekend, and spent the rest of her time sorting through and cleaning up her non-earthquake-proofed apartment. She and Rick only glimpsed each other while going in or out of ER cubicles at work.

  Dr. Morell had made sure both she and Rick knew how displeased
he was with finding them asleep together in the hospital cafeteria the morning after the earthquake. No amount of explaining had appeased him. Rick had finally stood up, looked him square in the eye and had told him he didn’t give a damn what he thought, and to butt out of his personal life.

  The head of Internal Medicine had given a steel-cold stare, turned on his heel, and left, leaving China praying she wouldn’t run into him at work in the near future or, for that matter, ever again.

  By Wednesday, things began to settle down in the ER, except for the hospital engineers’ constant presence. They’d finally packed up their gray carts and bright orange ladders and cleared out for the evening when a mild aftershock reminded everyone that, regardless of how prepared they may be, Mother Nature was still in charge.

  “Three point five,” one doctor called out in the casual manner they’d all grown accustomed to since the earthquake had hit.

  “That had to be a five,” a nurse answered with a tense smile. “I don’t feel them unless they’re five or more.”

  “Four point seven,” another nurse joined in, sounding like a judge at the Olympics.

  China and Rick happened to meet up at the nurses’ station. She needed an intake and output sheet, and he was answering a phone call. She checked her tight French twist with a fluttering hand and crossed her arms to cover the nervous jitters he’d evoked. She’d pretend the earthquake had made her anxious, not him.

  He hung up the phone, smiled broadly and sauntered up beside her. “How’ve you been?” He nudged her with his shoulder.

  Her cheeks got hot. “Fine. I finally have my apartment back in living order. How about you?”

  “Almost there.”

  “Chloe? Jezebel?”

  “Nervous, but fine. So, now that you’ve cleaned up your apartment, maybe you’ll invite me over?”

  Sierra popped her head outside one of the cubicles across the room. “China?”

  China straightened, wishing she had more time to shoot the breeze with Rick. Offering an apologetic smile, she said, “Gotta go.”

  Rick nodded, and she was positive he watched her walk away, forcing her to pretend that her weak leg wasn’t bothering her.