The Good Samaritan

by Price, Melynda

  “Hi, Luke. You were waiting for me, huh?” He uncapped the bottle and handed it to her. She took a long pull before reaching into her purse for her wallet.

  “It’s on the house.” He held up his hand to stop her. “I saw Molly come in and knew you wouldn’t be far behind her. Heard what happened on the news tonight. Must have been one hell of an evening.”

  “Thanks. It was definitely different.”

  “They make it?” he asked, lowering his voice. “The cop and his dog?”

  “I haven’t heard.” It was the truth, and that was all she could say about it. With a high-profile case like this, any HIPPA violation and the hospital would be up her ass so fast she could kiss her residency goodbye, along with any hope of being offered a permanent position come June. With a parting wave, she made her way to the empty chair across from her friend.

  “You made it. I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”

  “I was just running a little late.”

  “I heard you saved a German Shepherd tonight. Way to go.” Molly toasted her and took a sip of her Bacardi.

  “That’s K-9 officer, wiseass, and how’d you hear about it? Thought you were elbows deep in vaginas all night.”

  Molly laughed. “The OB floor was all abuzz. They were moving your cop up to Trauma as I was leaving.”

  So he made it out of surgery. “He’s not my cop.” Emma took another pull from her bottle. “He wasn’t even my patient. I took care of the dog, remember?”

  “That’s K-9 officer, wiseass.”

  Touché. Emma laughed and they clinked bottles, each taking a sip.

  “I heard the dog went bat-shit crazy when they tried to take the cop to surgery and you Ketamined it, and then threatened to do the same to the cop when he got pissy with you.”

  “That sounds about right.” Emma would like to know who in the department had the loose lips because what happened in the pit should stay in the pit.

  “So is it true? Is he as hot as the nurses say he is?”

  “What? I don’t know, Mol. It was kind of hard to notice when he had a death grip on my wrist as he threatened me not to kill his dog.” She pulled up her sleeve as Exhibit A, showing Molly the fingertip bruises peppering her pale skin.

  Her eyes shot wide. “Holy shit, Em. He did that to you?”

  She and Molly had been best friends since their first year of medical school. They’d laughed, cried, and pulled all nighters studying together, so yeah, she could be real with her.

  “Scared the hell out of me. The dog was snarling and trying to lunge off the table, and the cop wasn’t any better. They were both bleeding out. It was a total shit-show.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips into her temples, her heartbeat hammering into her brain like an ice pick. Emma exhaled a breath, reaching back to rub a knot in her shoulder. The day was quickly catching up with her and suddenly her bed was lot more enticing than this hard cider.

  “I’m sorry you had such a crappy night. You know, if you ever get sick of saving lives, there’s always room on the vagina squad with me.”

  Emma laughed. In true Molly fashion, her friend was using humor to deliver a pick-me-up and a bitch-slap at the same time. With one comment, she was reminding Emma that every day she was making a difference, and although it wasn’t easy, she’d chosen this profession. No one was forcing her to stay in it. Before she’d tracked into Emergency Medicine, she’d been recruited by many specialties—including obstetrics.

  Being an ER doctor was her life’s passion, saving lives and cheating death... It didn’t mean that sometimes death didn’t win, but Emma was committed to giving every patient their best chance—human or K-9—and that’s what she’d done tonight.

  * * *

  Sawyer’s leg throbbed in time to the obnoxious beeping of the monitor above his head. His eyes flew open when the blankets shifted and a hand slipped under the covers, reaching for…his groin? He flinched, his hand shooting down to halt the touchy-feely fingers. “What the hell are you doing?” he rasped hoarsely.

  The nurse startled. By her expression, she clearly thought he was asleep. She was pretty—dark hair, fair skin. Not as stunning as the doctor in the ER who had taken care of Sam, but their looks were similar enough to remind him of her.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Yeah, kinda hard to sleep when a woman sticks her hand up your gown. Probably should give a guy a heads-up next time. I’m kinda shy.”

  She pulled back her hand. “Very funny. I’m checking your pulses, Mr. Gerrard.”

  The sarcastic snort in the corner of the room drew his attention. Who the hell was here with him?

  “Don’t let him fool you, sweetheart. That cranky bastard doesn’t have a shy bone in his body.”

  He knew that voice. Lifting his head, Sawyer locked eyes on his brother, who was stretched in a lazy sprawl, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Hunter? What the hell are you doing here?” Then alarm hit him. “Is Sam okay?”

  “Last I checked he was just coming out of surgery. They think he’s going to make it.”

  Thank God.

  “And what do you mean, what am I doing here? You were shot, man. Where else do you think I’d be? Sitting at home and playing fucking pinochle?”

  A small smile tipped the nurse’s mouth as she pressed her fingertips to the back of Sawyer’s knee. So, she thought his brother was charming, huh? Most women did—until they got to know him and discovered what he did for a living.

  “I thought you were in Haiti.”

  “I don’t leave until next week. I’ve got a full seven days to whip your ass back into shape, little brother.”

  Sawyer dropped his head back onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “Nurse, could you do me a favor and just kill me right now?”

  She had a hold of his foot, two fingers pressed across the top. Finding what she was looking for, she took a pen from her pocket and made a small X on his skin before looking up at him. “Sorry,” she said, covering his leg back up. “Can’t help you, but I can get you something to ease the suffering.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t like the way that shit makes me feel.”

  “Mr. Gerrard, you can feel me touching your leg. That means the anesthesia and spinal block is wearing off. You’re going to be in a lot of pain very soon.”

  He already was in a lot of pain. But this wasn’t the first time he’d taken some lead, and it was nothing compared to having it rip through his chest, so he could deal. He had a killer to find before that bastard locked onto another target—if he hadn’t already. The last thing Sawyer needed was word getting out that they had a serial killer on their hands.

  No drugs. The pain would keep him sharp—focused. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind. What I would like, though, is if you can make that incessant beeping stop.”

  She reached over his head and pressed some buttons on the monitor. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll check back in a little bit.”

  Chapter 3

  “Charge to two-hundred.”

  “All clear…” Renee called out before delivering the shock.

  The man’s body jerked and they all watched the monitor in breathless anticipation, waiting to see if it would blip—if this time, the shock would work.

  The brief moment of fine v-fib flattened into a systole.

  Shit. “Resume compressions, give one milligram of Epinephrine, and we’ll do another pulse check in three-minutes.” The team went back to work resuscitating the elderly patient. Emma wasn’t hopeful they were going to get him back. Less than ten percent of traumatic arrests were successfully resuscitated. The odds were stacked against them, but still Emma wouldn’t give up.

  The man had fallen off the roof while clearing the valleys from snow. He’d lain outside for several hours before his wife had found him, so it was unclear if his arrest was due to trauma or hypothermia. If it was the latter, he might have a chance, hence the phrase “you’re not
dead until you’re warm and dead.”

  “Our core temp is eighty-nine degrees. That’s not warm enough to call it. Let’s get him to ECHMO. Ann, check with the unit coordinator and make sure they’re ready.”

  The charge nurse slipped out of the room and came back a minute later. “The OR is almost prepped. They said to bring him over.”

  Good. There was nothing more they could do here. They’d exhausted their passive and active rewarming measures. His only chance now was warming him through bypass. “Let’s pause for a pulse check before we go.” All efforts ceased. Flat-line. “Okay, another milligram of epinephrine, resume CPR, and let’s get him to ECHMO.” Emma guided the team down to the OR and handed her patient off to the accepting physician.

  She was on her way back to the pit when a call came over her com device. “When you’re free, you have a patient requesting to see you, Dr. Rhodes.”

  Emma paused in the hallway and took a deep breath, needing a minute to decompress. Leaning against the wall, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “What room?”

  “The family waiting area.”

  It must be Mr. LaMotte’s wife. “I’ll be right there.” As soon as I find the strength to move my ass away from this wall. She was going to tank soon. She could sense it coming, that unavoidable “crash and burn” low brought on from the adrenaline-high of critical cases.

  Emma tugged the binder from her hair and let it down, massaging her fingers through her scalp. She was so exhausted, her hair even hurt.

  “You all right, Em?”

  She glanced up to find Blake standing beside her. He was a handsome man—and he knew it, with that dark blond hair and those hazel eyes. Very GQ. “I’m fine,” she lied with surprising ease. “Just taking a breather.”

  “You did a great job in there. You ran that code exactly how I would have.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look exhausted.” The undertone of concern in his voice made this conversation more personal than professional. “Why don’t you take thirty and I’ll cover your patients.”

  A cup of coffee and a bagel sounded too good to resist. She nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. I’ll call if I need you.” He lifted his hand, catching a lock of her hair. She tensed, but if he noticed he pretended not to. “Never seen you with your hair down before.” He let the raven strands slowly slip through his fingers. “I like it. Looks good.”

  “Blake…” She didn’t have the energy to do this with him right now. She’d told him before that this couldn’t happen. Dammit, she never should have drunk so much the night of the New Year’s Eve party. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have kissed him back.

  Blake’s hand dropped, then dragged through his hair as he exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I know, Em. You don’t have to say it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish things could be different, and your residency is almost over.”

  Before she could respond, he swiped his badge over the access pad and the back doors swung open. “Take a break. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  Emma watched him enter the department, hoping this wasn’t going to become an issue between them. She admired Blake professionally and valued their friendship but that was all they would ever be—friends.

  Pushing away from the wall, she entered the family room and came to an abrupt stop.

  Officer Gerrard.

  His back was to her, his attention fixed on the news anchor reporting something about a young woman found in a city park burned to death in her car. But she didn’t need to see the officer’s face to know it was him. The energy in the room hummed with the same vitality as in the trauma bay.

  She observed him a moment, taking note of the hospital robe stretched across his wide, muscular shoulders. A crutch was tucked under his left arm, supporting what was easily a six-four, two-twenty frame. Emma closed the door and the soft click of the latch caught his attention. He shut off the TV, set the remote on the table, and slowly turned toward her.

  Their eyes locked and Emma’s heart momentarily stuttered. The first time they’d met, caught up in the moment of trying to save two lives, she’d failed to notice how stunningly handsome he was. No doubt this cop had a high confession rate. With a stare this intense, she was ready to start naming her sins just standing across the room from him.

  “Officer Gerrard.” She broke the silence when he didn’t speak. “You wanted to see me?”

  Snapping out of his reverie, the officer took a crutched step toward her. “I did. And it’s actually Detective Gerrard. I wanted to personally thank you for saving Sam’s life. The vet said that what you did stabilized him enough to get him through surgery. The bullet was dangerously close to his heart and anymore movement could have killed him.”

  Shutting down the unexpected rush of feminine awareness, Emma shifted mental gears and took a clinical assessment of the man. His color was good, no longer that pasty gray pallor. He was partial weight-bearing on his left leg, but each step caused him notable pain. Though he took great effort to hide his discomfort, she could see it in the tension bracketing the hard set of his jaw. Coming all the way down here had been no easy task. The gesture warmed her heart, causing a smile to tug at her lips.

  “Detective,” she corrected. “And you’re very welcome. I’m pleased to hear your partner is doing well, and I’m glad to see you’re on the mend.”

  Tightening his grip on his crutch, he extended his free hand, flashing her a set of panty-melting dimples. Emma graciously accepted the offer. The moment his palm connected with hers, a rush of heat traveled up her arm.

  Maybe he felt it too, because she caught the brief moment of surprise in his eyes and his gaze dropped to their connected hands.

  Emma tried to let go but his grip tightened. He turned her hand, rotating her wrist that revealed her bruises. The darkening scowl reminded her of the night they’d first met, only this time his growled curse wasn’t directed at her.

  “Did I do this to you?”

  She jerked her hand back and he let go. “It’s fine,” she murmured, pulling down the sleeve of her undershirt.

  “No, it’s not. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. With everything that was happening—”

  “Please,” she held up her hand to stop him. “You don’t need to apologize. You were concerned for your partner.”

  “Yes, I was, but…” He reached for her hand again and gently brushed his thumb over the bruises as if he hoped they’d simply rub away.

  Emma’s nerve endings lit up like fireworks, making her skin hypersensitive to his touch. For a moment, time seemed to stop as he studied her.

  The door swung open and Emma startled, turning to find Blake hovering in the doorway. His congenial expression quickly switched to something a lot less friendly when he saw Sawyer holding her hand. She quickly tugged it back and moved a step away.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” The snark in his tone said he was not sorry, he was mad. “Beth said you were in here meeting with a patient. You’re needed in Trauma One—MVC—ETA 10 minutes.” Without waiting for a response, he turned away and headed down the hall.

  “Are you two together?” Sawyer asked.

  His question caught Emma off-guard. Maybe it was the cop in him that made the man so direct—and nosy. “No. I don’t mix my personal life with my professional one, Detective Gerrard.”

  “Someone should tell him that.” He nodded toward the door.

  Okay, that was definitely a tone. Ignoring his remark, she cleared her throat and said, “Thank you for coming down here. Is there anything else I can do for you? If not, I really do need to get back to work.”

  Sawyer canted his head, those mesmerizing eyes following her. “Coffee.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Let me buy you a cup of coffee, as an apology and gesture of appreciation. When does your shift end?”

  “That’s very kind of you, but it isn’t necessary. Three a.m. is not a great time to b
e consuming caffeine.”

  “Three a.m. is not a great time to be leaving this place alone.”

  A smile touched her lips at his concern. “You ever stop being a cop, Detective Gerrard?”

  He returned her grin, those dimples bracketing straight white teeth, disarming her. “Nope. You ever stop being a physician, Dr. Rhodes?”

  “No.” She hovered at the door, wanting to leave and yet reluctant to go. “It was nice meeting you. Take good care of my patient, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned to leave and was almost out the door.

  “Emma?”

  She glanced back, his use of her first name catching her attention. He was limping toward her, moving with a lot more speed and agility than someone who’d been shot in the leg two days ago ought to. “You shouldn’t be walking on that leg yet.”

  He ignored her reprimand and handed her his card. “If you ever need anything… Well, you know where to reach me.”

  “Thank you.” She took the card and slipped it into her scrub pocket before walking out. “Have a good rest of the night, Detective.”

  * * *

  Clever bitch.

  Did she really think changing parking ramps was going to stop him? That he couldn’t find her? He would always find her. That was the point of the game. She would hide, and he would seek. He was a better player than she was, though.

  He glanced at his watch while he waited in the shadows—3:30 a.m. She was late. Not unusual for her. She really shouldn’t work so hard. Didn’t she realize it could all be taken away from her with the flick of his wrist? She was alive because he allowed it. Without him, she would be nothing—no one.

  The problem with raising his star was that others had noticed her shine. He couldn’t blame them for being drawn to her. She was brilliant, after all. But if they got too close to her, if she allowed any of them to get too close—well, he would see to it that they didn’t.

  Approaching footsteps sent his pulse racing, beating in time to the brisk, determined cadence of her boots on the concrete. He would allow her to think she was safe for a little while more, just long enough for her to lower her guard. She cut across the parking ramp and he could see the tension in her expression, smell her fear. She knew he was here.