by Eve Langlais
Struggled to scream.
Her body arched. Spasmed. Fought against his grip. A bucking pinto and yet Jett held firm. She needed this treatment. Still, he couldn’t help but hate the pain he saw gripping her.
His fault. If he’d run faster. Checked sooner. Perhaps she wouldn’t be writhing in agony.
Guilt. A new emotion. He didn’t understand why here, why now. Nor did he look away when she caught his gaze and held it. Pleading with him.
Begging. He’d seen that look before, the one that said, I welcome death. Except, for once, he didn’t make the wish come true.
He murmured, “It’s all right, Red. It hurts now, but I promise the doctor is gonna make it all better.”
Of course, getting better involved more pain first. The osseous compound was a miraculous thing that could heal traumatic injury, like crushed bone and damaged tissue, but there was a cost.
There was always a cost.
Thankfully she lost consciousness as Chimera kept going with his needle until he finally declared, “I think that’s enough. Any more and she might go into seizure.”
Not to mention the stuff cost a fortune to make. Jett didn’t know what the serum was comprised of but knew Chimera only used it sparingly.
“Should I take her to her room?” he asked as he climbed off. He ignored Kyle as he scurried around fastening restraints around her limbs.
“Not yet. I want to observe her for a bit. Take a few x-rays. Make sure there isn’t any cranial bleeding. She hit the floor pretty hard when the patient tripped her.”
The reminder of her attack had him growling, “And this is why the sleeping subjects should be tied down.”
“That would only make it harder for the nurses to care for them. These types of incidents don’t happen often.”
A callous remark to make. Even Jett knew the right answer. Once should be considered too much. “Will she recover?”
“She’ll be fine,” Chimera said, not evening looking his way. He placed a stethoscope on her chest for a listen. “Kyle. She’s still struggling for air. Intubate her. Give her a thick oxygen mix. Increase the hemato drip”—which was for bruising and other flesh injuries—“and add a sedative. I want her to sleep through most of the repair.”
Inwardly, Jett cringed as a breathing tube was rammed down her throat, but he couldn’t deny her chest rose and fell more strongly and evenly after.
Chimera turned from the nurse, tucking his stethoscope in a pocket. “How is patient GL33?”
He shrugged. “Sleeping last time I saw him. Given he almost doubled in thickness when he was pissed, you’re going to want to make sure you’ve got someone watching him even if restrained.” Because it wouldn’t be the first time the strength of a project surprised them and someone got hurt.
“He did seem rather strong, didn’t he?” Chimera appeared pleased.
“Strong but dumb.” He’d seen no sign of cognition or intelligence.
Chimera waved his concern away. “He just woke up. He’ll need a few days to orient himself. You did good.” In other words, good thing he’d not killed Chimera’s project.
In the doctor’s world, there were no failures. Every single patient, no matter the outcome, was a story to be learned from.
“What do you want to tell the girl?”
“I haven’t yet decided.” Chimera indicated the door. “I’ll think of something and handle her when she wakes. You should return to your duties.”
Dismissed.
Which was fine. Jett wanted nothing to do with the nurse. Yet, that didn’t stop him from casting one last glance at her as she lay still on the bed.
Forever changed and she didn’t even know it.
Chapter Seven
Waking up, Becky blinked at the bright lights overhead then panicked as she realized something had been rammed into her mouth and down her throat.
The foreign object made her choke as her throat acted reflexively to reject it. She rolled to her side, hands clasping at the plastic tubing, pulling at it.
“Easy, Nurse Frederickson. Let me help you. We didn’t expect you to wake so soon.”
How many times had she said the same thing when a patient woke in a panic?
Gentle hands rolled her until she once more lay on her back and then proceeded to remove the elastics holding the intubation tube in place against her mouth. Her gag reflex activated as the plastic slid free, and she coughed once she was free of it. A hard wracking sound that brought sharp pain to her lungs and a throb to her neck.
“Here. Drink this.” A glass was presented to her, the fluid a strangely electric blue.
She tried to speak but only managed a croak. “Wassit.”
The doctor tending her understood. “Just a little something to ease your throat.”
Sounded heavenly. She brought the glass to her lips and then whimpered at the pain of swallowing the warm potion, a pain that receded the more she drank. By the time she finished the glass, the agony was but a dull throb in the background.
“Thank you” still emerged as a hoarse garble of noise, “Tnku.”
“You need to let your throat rest while the medicine takes effect. It will remove most of the swelling overnight. You should be able to speak again by morning.”
“Pity. The quiet is nice.” She recognized the mumbled complaint and turned her head to see Jett standing on the other side of her bed.
She might have mouthed a not very Becky-like Fuck you. She’d almost died, and he was complaining about her talking? Asshole. Then again, she couldn’t hate him too much. He was the one who came to her rescue. She had a vague recollection of him carrying her, maybe even telling her not to die. Which was crazy. Because that would mean he cared and he’d made it clear he didn’t. Heck, he didn’t even like her.
Pity, because she kind of liked him. Even if he was a jerk most of the time.
Damn him for being sexy and brooding. Why did he have to be the one who’d saved her?
The head of the bed lifted with a whir and sudden jolt of motion, the electronics moving it upward until she was seated. There was a doctor present—the white coat gave it away—one she’d not yet met, and Jett, who met her gaze with an undecipherable expression.
“You gave us quite the scare, Nurse Frederickson,” the doctor said.
“Becky,” she whispered.
“Becky.” The man nodded. “And I’m Dr. Chimera.”
The Dr. Chimera. Hot damn. She’d begun to wonder if he existed. She’d heard his name mentioned, but this was her first glimpse. She looked him over and felt a moment’s surprise at his young age. Somewhere in his thirties, forties at the most. A tall guy, not quite as tall as Jett, with dark hair and vivid blue eyes.
He smiled, a comforting expression as he said, “Now, I know your throat is hurting, so I’m going to do most of the talking. You can nod for yes or shake for no. I promise this won’t take long.”
What wouldn’t take long?
“When did the cancer return to your lungs?”
She blinked. How did he know? Only she and her oncologist knew the tumors were back, and too virulent to treat. She’d opted to forgo chemo, choosing to instead live out the rest of her days, however many those might be, on her terms.
“I can see by your expression that you knew about it. Knew even when you took this job.”
She cringed. “Sorry.”
“No talking, I said.” He shook a finger at her, chiding. “And no need to apologize. Mr. Lowry was aware when he hired you of your medical condition. That MRI must have been a shock.”
She mouthed how. Her records should have been sealed.
Chimera read her lips. “I have my ways. Needless to say, your lungs aren’t looking good, Becky. I took some x-rays to evaluate the damage to your neck. Then I took some of your lungs. They’re riddled with tumors.”
“She’s dying?” She heard the surprise in Jett’s voice but didn’t look at him.
She nodded. Her doctor had said she could have as
much as a year left in her, or as little as six weeks. Being the optimist sort, she kept hoping for a miracle.
“It is a death sentence,” Chimera said bluntly. “And the worst part is I have something to help her.” His eyes met hers. “The only problem is it is still in the experimental stages.”
Her lips parted. He had a cure?
“The government,” Chimera said the word with disdain, “they have all these rules about how we can test the drugs. At this point, we’re still years away from human trials and yet”—he leaned close—“it works.”
“You’ve used it?” she whispered.
Chimera winked. “That would be unethical of me. A shame, though, that someone like you has to suffer when the cure might be as simple as a few doses of this.” He moved away to a refrigeration unit, opened it, and pulled out a vial. The fluid within shimmered, catching the light, iridescent in color, one moment blue, the next green, even silver. “This, my dear Becky, is the hope of the future. Clinical trials have shown it to effectively remove all signs of cancer in the lungs. As a matter of fact, the rats we’ve tested it on developed better lung capacity.”
She held out her hand, and she didn’t need to speak for him to understand her demand.
“I wish I could give it to you, Becky.” Chimera sighed. “But the rules…” He shook his head. “They say I can’t.”
As if she cared. It wasn’t the journalist in her that wanted the cure but the scared, dying woman.
“Please.”
“So sorry, but I can’t. I already stepped over the line when using the osseous compound on you. But how could I not when you would have died without it?”
Her hand went to her throat. Her sore throat. Crushed. She’d seen one case during her tenure as a nurse. The patient wore a neck brace for life and had a trach tube to breathe.
Yet, she lived. Talked. All because he’d treated her, and now he thought she’d quibble over more experimental drugs.
“I’m dying.”
“I know. Lucky for you, I had some leftovers of the compound. You wouldn’t believe the demand for it by the various governments around the world. You’ve not got a million-dollar neck.”
And garbage lungs.
“More?” she whispered.
“I wish I could, Becky. However, while the osseous compound is actually approved for clinical trials, the cancer drug isn’t.”
She wanted to sob as he turned from her and placed it back in the fridge.
When he returned, he gave her a pitying look. “Let me talk to my contact in the government. Perhaps there’s a way I can stress the importance of your situation and your willingness to try.”
She nodded, a little too vigorously. The pain shot through her, and she gasped.
“How bad of me to keep you here talking when you should be resting. Jett. Escort nurse Frederickson to her room. Oh, but before you go…” Dr. Chimera turned his gaze on her. “Given your interest in my cancer research, I wonder if perhaps you’d mind transferring your services to another department. I find myself in need of an assistant. It would seem Kyle, my former aid, has fallen ill. It wouldn’t involve any patients, per se. You’d be assisting me in my lab. That is, if you’re interested?”
Work with the mysterious owner of the clinic itself? See exactly what he was doing? Maybe talk him into forgetting a few laws… Which was wrong. So wrong. And yet, a dying woman couldn’t help having hope.
She managed to say, “Yes.”
Dr. Chimera beamed and clasped his hands with a loud smack. “Then it’s settled. In a few days, when you feel well enough, you’ll begin working for me. Jett will show you how to get to my lab.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now go rest. I’ll have a special drink with some healing properties sent to your room after dinner. Be sure to drink it all up. And keep it secret,” Chimera said with a wink. “Can’t have everyone with a scratch or bruise begging for it. But it’s the least I can do for you.”
Chimera left, disappearing through a door with a flap of white coattails, leaving her alone with Jett. What a surprise, his face wore a scowl.
“Let’s go.” He jerked his thumb towards another exit. His bedside manner completely lacking.
He turned away, and she stuck her tongue out at his back.
Sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, she pushed herself to a standing position, only to feel her knees buckle and her head go light.
She almost hit the floor. Hands grabbed her before she planted.
Jett grumbled, “Jeezus fucking Christ, Red. Gonna make me carry you again?”
A part of her was tempted to glare at him. How dare he complain about the fact she still recovered from her injury? But her aunt always did say you got further with a smile and an unbuttoned blouse. She didn’t have time to slip a few loops, but she could give him a winsome grin and a flutter of her lashes with a soft-spoken, “Please.”
She held out her arms, and he sighed. “Ah for fuck’s sake.” He tugged her into his arms, the burly strength in them lifting her with ease.
She looped her hands around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder, bringing her close enough to his neck that she smelled his aftershave. Something sharp and spicy. Very manly.
Sexy…
His long strides took them quickly down a long hall, and to her surprise, they emerged in the unfinished section of the tunnel on the habitat level.
A quick peek over his shoulder showed unblemished rock at his back.
“How?” she croaked.
“Camouflage. Now shut it. Doctor said no talking.”
His rebuke clamped her lips tight. His grumbling annoyed. How dare he act so pissy. She’d almost died. It wasn’t as if she’d asked for this to happen.
When he set her on her feet in her room, she wobbled. He kept his hands on her, steadying her, which was all she needed to get up on tiptoe and press her mouth to his.
She meant to kiss him as punishment. What she didn’t expect was to enjoy it.
Chapter Eight
For a moment Jett stood frozen in place. She was kissing him.
Why the fuck did she have her mouth plastered to his?
Why wasn’t he stopping it?
The woman had almost died. She was wounded, practically unable to speak, and yet her mouth had no problem latching onto his lower lip and making him feel things…. Things he shouldn’t, below the belt.
Despite the arousal coursing through his body, he set her away from him. “Bad nurse,” he admonished.
The rebuke brought a smile to her lips and a mischievous twinkle to her eyes. Much better than the pain of before.
“Feels good,” she murmured.
Yeah, it had. Didn’t make it right. “Don’t do it again.”
“Afraid your girlfriend will find out?” she taunted.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Realizing a moment too late she’d tricked him.
Her smile proved bright. “I’m single too.”
He already knew that. Not that he was interested. No dating women at work. Or kissing.
“Get some rest,” was his gruff reply. As opposed to his body, which thought he should drag her back into his arms for a more thorough kiss.
“Not tired,” she croaked. “How Larry?” She kept her sentences short and clipped.
“Who the fuck is Larry?”
She gave him a pointed look, indicated her throat, then mimed choking herself and stuck out her tongue. It was horrifying and funny all at once. How could she be making fun of what happened already? Why did it tug a grin from his lips?
“The patient was taken to level six.”
She cocked her head and waved her hand, indicating more.
“There is no more to tell. He woke up. He tried to pop your head off your shoulders. We tranqed his ass and took him to the basement.” What he and the others called the more secure level for the violent ones.
Her lips pursed.
“Don’t give me that look. What els
e did you expect?”
“He was disoriented. I am sure he didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said in a low, husky murmur.
“Don’t make excuses for the asshole. He fucked up. As did you because you didn’t listen to orders.” The stink eye went well with his barked rebuke. “Next time, when you see one of the coma patients waking up, get the fuck out.”
He blinked because, while her lips smiled and her eyes twinkled, the middle finger she raised proved eloquent.
And unexpected.
He laughed. “Oh, Red, I’ve seen and heard a lot worse than that.”
“Tough guy.” Said as an insult and paired with her taking a step closer.
He took one back.
The corners of her eyes crinkled.
The damned woman fucked with him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.
Can’t kill her.
Couldn’t even beat her.
Cursing her out was for bullies.
Which left only two options.
Kiss her or flee.
He swore he felt her mirth burning between his shoulder blades as he fled.
How dare she taunt him? He’d saved her sorry ass. If not for him, she’d be feeding the projects, part of a stew for the more carnivorous among them. The clinic didn’t believe in wasting anything, not even human meat.
Why did she have to go and kiss him? Now the feel of her was imprinted on his mouth. His dick had ideas about what those lips would be good for. Hell, he had all kinds of ideas that involved her mouth, his cock, and naked skin.
Not happening.
The woman was a pain in his ass. She was dying. Broken.
Which bothered him. How could someone her age be so sick? She didn’t look sick. However, he’d seen cancer before. Saw it take a man he once admired and reduce him to a shell. At one point, death was a mercy, and Jett didn’t shed a tear when he helped his old friend to take that final step.
Since Chimera hadn’t given him marching orders, Jett found himself heading for level six. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they’d taken the newest patient. He could hear the bellowing down the hall, which explained the numerous guards who stood outside the door, guns aimed.