“Thoracotomy tray, now,” Dr. Reed called out, gowning up over his scrubs. He made the incision and started working, his hands moving quickly as yet more blood covered the field. “Damn it!”
“Hanging the tenth unit now,” a nurse called over the chaos.
Ava looked over at the monitor. “Still no cardiac activity.”
Dr. Reed stood back, his hands and arms matching red. “I’m done, but he’s been down too long.” He shook his head. “He’s simply lost too much blood.” He stepped back. Ava’s hands dropped away from the patient. He was right, but it sucked. It always did, even when she’d allowed a patient to freak her out a little. The death of one of her patients was always a blow. Dr. Reed looked up at the clock on the wall. “Time of death is 4:54 p.m.” He stripped his gloves and gown, placing them in the bin in the corner of the room. The cardiac monitor continued its long, uninterrupted sound. He moved over and switched it off, then turned to Ava. “You’ll take care of the rest and the notification?”
She nodded, and he strode out of the room. Welcome to her first day. Now who the hell was she supposed to notify about the dead gang member lying on the gurney? Turns out she didn’t have to go far. After she’d confirmed cessation of all life signs and handed the prep of the body over to the nurse, Ava walked out to the waiting room and immediately found who she was looking for. They weren’t exactly hard to miss. The waiting room was relatively empty. The rush of the day was over, and they were yet to start the nighttime flow of car accident victims and drunken idiots, and so the three large men sitting in the room with the same leather cut as the dead guy stood out.
She took a breath and walked over. “You’re with the man who was brought in earlier with a gunshot wound?” Ava didn’t know why she was asking. The same macabre image decorated their leather, and it wasn’t like they had any other reason to be hanging around in the ER. The room was white and stark, a strange contrast to the men. Two sat sprawled in the small plastic chairs, while one leaned up against a wall. All had long hair. One of the men tied it back, while the others left it touching their shoulders. Tattoos decorated most of their visible skin, along with a few scars.
Time to get this over with. “We did all that we could, but there was simply too much damage done by the bullet. It hit a major artery, and the blood loss was not sustainable, and he went into cardiac arrest. The patient died.”
The man leaning against the wall moved so fast that Ava didn’t process what was happening until she found herself pressed up against the wall, the biker’s hand wrapped around her throat. His face pushed close to hers, so close she could see the stubble growing on his cheek and the glint of a metallic filling in a tooth. Old school. “You were supposed to save him, bitch. You fucked up.”
The hand around her throat tightened, her breath hitching as her windpipe was compressed. Where the hell was the security guard? The whooshing sound of the ER external doors opening sounded, but the strength of the biker’s grip meant Ava couldn’t move her head to see who was entering. Would there be more of them any moment, there to take care of the doctor who fucked up, before the hospital guard could get his shit together? She lifted her hands to her throat, trying to pry the hand gripping her loose, but it was utterly hopeless. The dirty, tattooed knuckles gripped tighter still, and black spots twirled and tumbled in front of her eyes.
As quickly as it had begun, the hand gripping her fell away. Ava tumbled to the floor, her hand now holding her throat as she coughed and spluttered. A new type of chaos erupted around her as the biker who had been holding her to the wall hit the floor only a couple of feet away. His head snapped back as he landed, a split lip a clue as to why he’d suddenly lost his footing. He didn’t move once his large body crashed to the ground. Really, she should be concerned about a head injury, but right then, Ava couldn’t bring herself to care.
The security guard she’d seen that morning was next to him on the floor, but still in control of all his bodily functions as he snapped a pair of handcuffs on the guy who’d been quietly attempting to murder her. The sound of fists hitting flesh met her ears as the others quickly tumbled, one crashing into the admitting desk. She wiped at her mouth, clearing off any residue from nearly being strangled.
Damn, the charge nurse was going to be pissed.
Someone gently gripped Ava’s elbow, lifting. Pressing her hand against the wall to steady herself, she got her knee up and then lifted to her feet. Before she could raise her head, a wad of tissues was shoved into her hand. She mumbled her thanks and wiped at her face and hand before turning to throw them in the trash. Satisfied that she’d finally removed any last vestige of the biker’s hands on her skin, she turned around to thank her savior.
Ava’s pulse accelerated as her mouth went dry. He knees almost gave way beneath her and she leaned back against the wall. The forehead of her rescuer creased in concern as she felt faint all over again.
“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”
Connor Mills.
Holy hell. She was screwed.
3
Doc
Doc blinked. Once. Twice. Nope. She was still there. Standing right in front of him. Ava Casey. She was a piece of his past that Doc thought he’d never see again. What the hell was he going to say to her after what had happened between them?
A cough snapped him out of his stupor. Fuck. Ava had leaned back against the wall and was rubbing at her throat. Rage rose within him at the sight of the already-bruising flesh. He turned, intent on finding the fucker that had dared lay his hands on her and making him bleed a little more, but the sharp intake of breath from Ava made him jerk back around. “You okay?” He looked around the sudden hustle in the ER waiting room. There were plenty of security guards, nurses, and the occasional doctor tending to the guys he’d put on the floor, but everyone was pretty much ignoring him and Ava. They probably figured the fact they were both still upright meant they could wait a few minutes.
Ava held up a hand, wincing as she rubbed again at her throat. Damn it, breathing sharply like that had probably hurt. He’d have to be more careful. He reached up a hand to guide her to a chair, but her hand shot up and blocked his, halting him in his step.
“Stay away from me.”
What? His eyes widened at her words. “Ava, I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she sidestepped around him, nearly tripping over the legs of one of the Jokers he’d sent tumbling to the ground. Fuck. Was that it? Was she scared of him? “Ava, it’s okay. I would never . . . they were going to hurt you . . . damn it, you’re safe.”
What was it about this woman that could reduce him to a tongue-tied mess? Sure, he wasn’t the toughest in their club. Doc was never going to go toe to toe with someone of Grady or Sticks’ caliber and come out on top, but he was a Steel King. He wasn’t the smaller—okay completely nerdy—guy he’d been growing up. He could take care of her, and he’d cut off his own hand before he ever raised it to a woman. He took another step, reaching out and placing his hand on her wrist. “Ava . . .”
She jerked back like she’d been hit. “No.” She almost spat the word. She turned, looking across the room at the ER entry doors. The ones he couldn’t get through without a pass like the one dangling around her neck. Damn it, she wasn’t going to run, was she? His fingers still tingled from the brief seconds they’d touched her skin, like the last three years had never happened. How could he possibly just leave? He dared to take his gaze off her for a second, darting around the room. The cops weren’t there yet, but they wouldn’t be far away. It was bad enough that the Jokers had taken this public by bringing one of their injured to a local ER. If he was still there when the cops showed up, it would bring even more heat down on the Kings than Levi was already dealing with. At the same time, he wasn’t nearly ready to walk away from Ava. Not when she was looking at him with fear in her eyes. It crushed him.
“Just leave me alone,” she said. “What are you still doing here, anyway?” She gesture
d over to the Jokers. The one who had attacked her had been propped up against a wall, his hands still secured behind his back. Another was being attended to by a nurse, the woman patiently swabbing at a bleeding cut over his eye. Doc had no idea where the third man had gone. Most likely bolted the moment he realized the tide had turned. Jokers. They were such fucking cowards. Ava spoke again. “If you’re so intent on helping, why don’t you go over there with your friends and leave me alone.”
Doc’s head jerked back. This time, he was the one who felt like he’d been slapped. His friends? What the . . . his mouth fell open. Surely, she didn’t think he had anything to do with the assholes who had hurt her? Sure, things had been pretty damn strained between them at the end, but that went against everything he stood for, everything he was. A rock settled deep in his gut. She knew him. Knew him better than anyone ever had. How could she possibly think that he’d ever . . .
“There’s no point in denying it,” she said. She lifted her hand, pointing at his chest. “You’re wearing the same damn jacket.”
What? God, he’d never been so confused in his life as he’d been since the moment he’d walked through those ER doors. He was only there because he’d run out of suture kits. Doc was still kicking himself for that one. Normally, he’d have multiple of such a crucial supply, but the chaos of the last month with Seth’s old lady and then the rescue . . . he’d used the last one stitching up a few small wounds on Nikki’s sister, Stacey, but he hadn’t noticed in all the excitement of the night. Now Shakespeare was sitting back at the clubhouse, bleeding into a dish towel until he got back.
He looked back at Ava, brow furrowed. Looked like he was going to be waiting awhile longer. Hopefully one of the guys would get him a drink to pass the time—something strong. It’d make Doc’s job easier when he got back to the compound. But right now, he had something more important he had to deal with. Shakespeare would understand, he hoped.
Ava’s eyes transformed at the expression of “what the fuck” that Doc was sure was written all over his face. Her cheeks colored and her eyes went hard, and she leaned forward, poking him in the shoulder. “That,” she said. “You’re wearing one, just like the guys who attacked me.” At her words, Ava’s hand dropped away and her eyes softened, but she still took another step away from him. “Connor, what the hell happened to you?”
Doc opened his mouth and then closed it again, his brain still trying to wrap around her statement that he was friends with a Joker. When it finally caught up a few seconds later, he couldn’t help but let out a snort. Ava clearly didn’t appreciate his response, frowned, then turned on her heel to walk away. He reached out again, instinctively, but then dropped his hand. One of the guards was watching them, a wary look on his face. If he pushed Ava too hard, then he’d likely end up in the back of police van along with the Jokers. Now wouldn’t that be fun. “Ava. Please.”
The sound of his voice must still do something to her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. As he spoke, she stopped moving. Her shoulders dropped and then rose slightly again as she sucked in a deep breath before turning around. “I can’t, Connor. I don’t know who you are anymore. Not when you’re wearing one of those things.”
One of what? Her words finally sunk in. She hadn’t just poked him in the shoulder. No, her finger had been aimed to land squarely on his cut, right above the Steel Kings patch worn on the part of the cut that lay over his heart. “Ava, no.” He shook his head. “It’s different. I’m different.”
Ava adjusted her stance. Facing him fully now, she shifted her weight to one left, cocking her hip, and crossed her arms across her chest. She didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. “Different how?”
Could she not see the club name emblazoned across the leather? “I’m part of the Kings, they’re the Jok—” He sighed. No way was he getting her deeper into all this mess. Ava would definitely be questioned by the cops when they finally hauled ass to the hospital. The less she knew, the better.
He looked back toward the doors. He was already running on borrowed time as far as the cops showing up were concerned. He supposed he should be glad for the noontime shoot up of the clubhouse likely distracting them for long enough for him to meet Ava, though having any cops hanging around there was never a good thing.
Shit. He had to get going, before Levi blew a gasket and decided to make an example of him for taking too damn long on his supply run. He ran a hand through his hair. “It just is, Ava. I’m nothing like those guys.”
Geez, Ava rolled her eyes so hard at his response, they practically disappeared into the back of her head. She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s never simple with you, Connor. Why can’t you just give me a straight answer, just once!” Before he could reply, she spoke again. “Why the hell are you here, anyway?”
Now that, at least, he could answer. And it would get him on his way. As much as he wanted to stay her and make sure Ava was okay, he had to get gone. She would be okay here, surrounded by colleagues and the cops arriving when they finished fucking around. The guys at the club, on the other hand, they needed his help. Not to mention Shakespeare’s wound—superficial as it was—could still get infected if left open too long. “I’m here to see someone.”
Ava turned, walking briskly to the admitting desk. She swiped her badge and then tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “Name?”
Doc swallowed. “I’m not here to visit a patient. I’m uh, meeting someone.”
His contact chose that moment to appear around the corner, his eyes widening at the sight of Doc standing next to Ava. The guy was a surgical resident, fourth year. The club had helped his sister out of a serious bind one night, and in return, he kept Doc stocked up whenever he could. He’d even managed to wrangle a private room for Nikki a few weeks back, where Seth could keep an eye on her after she’d tried to take off.
The guy almost did an about-face on the spot, but Doc held up his hand. “James, it’s okay. She’s cool.” His gaze slid to Ava. He hoped to hell she was.
James nodded and looked back down the hall another time before walking over to them, handing Doc a medium brown box. It had drug company markings on the side, likely the first thing James had managed to lay his hands on in the supply room. “It’s not everything you need, but it should be enough to keep you going.”
Doc nodded but then jerked at the sound of disgust Ava made. Shit, had he been wrong about her? Things were messy as fuck between them, but she’d never been vindictive or mean. Surely she wouldn’t bust James?
“Stealing drugs now? What is it, your own habit or selling them on the street? Is that why you took off? You’re an addict?”
Just when Doc thought he couldn’t be any more surprised than he’d already been that day. “No! Ava, God, no. It’s nothing like that. I . . .”
She held up her hands. “I don’t want to hear it. Just leave, Connor, before I change my mind and call security over here.”
She turned, and that time he didn’t stop her. In five quick steps, she was gone.
4
Doc
Levi scowled in Doc’s direction when he walked through the now half-destroyed clubhouse door. “Where the hell have you been?” the president snarled. He turned away from his conversation with Sticks long enough to incline his head in Shakespeare’s direction. “Man’s been waiting on you for a good hour.” The club’s president took many by surprise. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who had it in him to lead sometimes. He was too quiet, too laid back. Until you found yourself on the end of one of Vlad’s famous stares—then you knew you’d well and truly fucked up.
Doc looked over at Shakespeare, sitting perched on the edge of a couch that had been pushed back against a wall, small clear lines through the glass shards littering the floor revealing its path. He still had one hand pressed against a dishcloth held to his bicep, while the likely original one lay on the floor at his feet, stained fully red.
Levi had turned away, likely done with his admonishments for now,
but Doc still felt like slapping himself for the transgression. He’d left a man here, in pain and bleeding all over the floor, so he could . . . what? Chase a ghost. That’s what it felt like, standing back in the clubhouse. He’d moved on. The life with Ava had ceased to exist the moment he’d walked out of their apartment. He frowned, walking over to Shakespeare. No, it had ended earlier than that—when she’d stopped trusting him. His lips firmed into a thin line. Looked like nothing much had changed there. It was time to remember where his loyalties lay and get on with his damn job.
Shakespeare, for his part, didn’t make Doc feel worse than he already did. In fact, the look of concern on the other man’s face as he approached almost brought him to his knees all over again. Why the hell was Shakespeare concerned about him?
“You alright, man? You were gone for so long, Vlad was beginning to worry the Jokers had somehow scooped you up.”
Ahh, that explained the death stare. He swallowed. Where the hell did he start? He wasn’t ready to tell anyone at the club about Ava, wasn’t sure he’d ever be. Connor was sure Levi knew the bare bones, at least. Nothing got past that man. The rest of the club, though? He was pretty sure no one much knew his real name, let alone anything about his past. “I’m sorry, Shake. I . . . uh . . . got caught up at the hospital.” He could explain that much, at least. “One of the Jokers was there, got brought in with a bullet wound, and his friends decided to cause a scene in the waiting room.”
Shakespeare let out a snort, surprising the hell out of Doc. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Levi’s head whip their way at the sound, the president’s eyes narrowing. Shakespeare held up a hand, waving him away, then turned back to Doc. “And of course, you had to get involved. Those guys have brass ones, though, showing up at a civilian hospital. Maybe they’re not all the cowards that we thought.” The grin dropped off Shakespeare’s face at the words. It was definitely a sobering thought, that an all-out war might be erupting. It didn’t take long for the grin to return, though. “Merc’ll be thrilled to hear he got one good.”
Vengeance (Steel Kings MC Book 3) Page 2
