Emergency: Nurse in Need

by Laura Iding

  "Thanks for calling." Serena hung up the phone. Immediately, she searched for the prescriptions. Sure enough, she found the errant slips of paper, stuck between his discharge paperwork.

  Of course, Grant hadn't bothered to get them filled.

  Muttering under her breath, Serena took charge. Leaving Grant sleeping on the sofa, she drove to the nearest pharmacy to pick up his medications. Back at his house, she heated up some hearty chicken soup and carried everything into the living room on a tray.

  "Grant, wake up." She shook his shoulder. "Time for your medication."

  "Don't want any," he mumbled, half-asleep.

  "You moron!" Serena fought to control her temper. "Not only did you neglect to take your antibiotics, but by refusing to take your pain medication you've made yourself worse."

  He blinked the sleep from his eyes. His gaze focused on the small amber medication bottles. "Where did you get those?''

  "Listen to me. Dr. Hardy returned my phone call. You can either co-operate with your care, which means taking your medication like you're supposed to, or you can go back to the hospital. Your choice. But eat first. You should take this antibiotic on a full stomach."

  Grant stared at the tray in her hands. "Fine. You win. I'll take the antibiotic, but not the pain pills."

  "You'll take the pain pills or I'll force them down your throat," Serena threatened. "Because once you've taken them, you're going to cough and deep-breathe, which is going to hurt like heck."

  Their gazes locked, both stubbornly refusing to give in.

  "I can cough and deep-breathe without the pain pills." As if the matter were closed, he leaned forward to take the tray from her, setting it on his lap.

  A red haze of fury blurred her vision. "Dammit, Grant! Just take the pain medicine, will you? What in the heck are you trying to prove anyway? Superhuman strength?" She rubbed a hand over her aching temple. "God save me from stubborn heroes."

  Spoon halfway to his mouth, Grant stared at her as if shocked at her outburst. He shouldn't be shocked, she thought irritably. He'd always teased her about her red-headed temper. If anything, he should have known better than to push her buttons.

  "You're breathtaking when you're angry." His voice was strained. "I missed that, too, Serena."

  She didn't have an answer to that. Turning away, she walked back to the kitchen to pour a bowl of soup for herself. But instead of taking a tray of her own out to the living room to join him, she sat at the kitchen table.

  Alone.

  Grant hated to admit he felt much better after eating and taking the darned medication. He'd even given in enough to take one of the pain pills. .Only half the recommended dose, but half was better than nothing in his mind.

  Serena avoided him, and while he felt a little guilty for their argument, he knew that wasn't the real reason she kept her distance.

  The physical awareness between them was a living, breathing thing, and refused to be ignored. True, Serena was giving it her best shot. He'd caught the yearning in her glance when she'd tended to his wounds. The old emotional baggage they'd carried had been dumped into a heap between them.

  Grant struggled to his feet, intent on confronting her. Just then Serena breezed in.

  "I'll take that." She grabbed the tray he'd been about to reach for. "Save your strength for the coughing and deep-breathing exercises."

  "Gee, I can hardly wait." Grant kept his tone light, although he longed to pull her into his arms. Her musky scent lingered in the air long after she'd left. Damn, this was going to be tough. How could he convince her to give them a second chance? How long before she would put Eric's tragic death to rest? A few more weeks? Months? Another year?

  When she returned several minutes later, she was all business again. They could have been in the hospital for all the distance she kept between them. At her instructions, he did several of the deep-breathing and coughing exercises. Then she instructed him to lie down on his non-injured side.

  "Now what?" he asked warily, as he complied with her request.

  "I'm going to beat on your chest." She knelt on the floor beside the sofa.

  "Oh, is that all? Isn't just being here with you like this punishment enough?''

  Serena stilled and dead silence filled the air. Grant inwardly swore. He'd meant to make a joke, but he should have bitten his tongue. Even if he had spoken the truth.

  Being so close to Serena without having her was agonizing punishment. Every moment reinforced what they could have had together, if not for her irrational fears. But he was cruel to blame everything on her. The truth of the matter was, she'd been right.

  His career was dangerous. A cop couldn't walk into a potentially deadly situation, thinking the worst would happen. He'd acted instinctively that night he'd been shot. He'd always followed his gut instinct.

  He always would. No matter what the risk.

  "I'm sorry. That wasn't exactly what I meant," Grant apologized softly.

  "I know exactly what you meant." Serena's voice was brittle. "This isn't easy for me either. Once I finish here, I'll leave."

  Before he could say another word, she cupped her hands and lightly pounded on his chest. They'd done the same thing in the hospital when he'd been in the ICU, too, he remembered. The sensation wasn't painful, but it didn't feel great when she neared the area around his incision.

  When she'd finished, she stood. He reached out to grasp her hand. "Don't go. Not like this."

  "I have to." Serena's voice was strained. "We're not right for each other, Grant. We've been down this path before."

  "Then why does this feel so right?" He tightened his grip when she tried to tug free. "Why does being with you feel exactly right? Are you trying to tell me you don't feel it too?"

  "I do feel it." Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. "But we can't go back, Grant. Don't you see? Too much has changed. We can't go back."

  With one last tug she broke free. She grabbed her stethoscope from the floor and hightailed it across the room. He could only watch helplessly as she left.

  Too much had changed? What had she meant by that? Grant stared at his empty living room, the words echoing through his mind. There was something deeper going on with Serena. Something that drove a wedge between them.

  He vowed to uncover the mystery. Because he knew with a sick certainty that he and Serena didn't have a chance until he knew exactly what had changed for her.

  That night, Serena tossed and turned in her sleep. Weeks had passed since she'd had the dream. Even as the image formed in her mind, she tried to stop the nightmare from returning. But her subconscious didn't listen. Flames shot from the upper windows of the house, dark hazy smoke obscuring the blue sky. She saw Eric stumble from the doorway, his face blackened by soot, holding a small child in his arms. He stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Heart pounding, Serena ran toward him. But as she drew near he dropped the child onto the ground. Except it wasn't a child, but a small baby. Daniel? She reached for her son. Her dusky blue baby's face stared up at her. She snatched her hand back. Daniel wasn't breathing.

  He was dead.

  No! Daniel, please, don't die!

  Serena bolted upright with a muffled cry. A fine sheen of sweat covered her body, her breath heaved from her lungs. She pried herself from the twisted damp linen and stumbled to the bathroom. Cupping her hands, she doused her face with cold water.

  Nothing could change the irrevocable truth. Grant hadn't known about her pregnancy. When she'd begged him to quit the force, she'd only just discovered the news herself. And when he'd chosen his job over her love, she told herself it was for the best.

  As the child had grown in her womb, so had her guilt over keeping her secret. But she'd been afraid that Grant would convince her to put up with his career for the sake of their child. When the premature labor pains had started in her seventh month, she'd immediately called the doctor. He'd admitted her into the hospital before she could blink. They'd hovered over her all night, giving her
medication to stop the labor. But the pain had continued, and then the baby's heart rate had suddenly dropped and those little flutters of baby movement had stopped altogether.

  The doctor had immediately performed an emergency C-section, but it had been too late. Her son had been stillborn. When she'd woken up, she'd sobbed and cradled the tiny baby to her chest, unwilling to understand why God continued to take those she loved. First her parents, then Eric and now her son. Serena had named the baby Daniel Eric and had insisted on a tiny grave for him.

  The doctor tried to reassure her that this didn't mean that she couldn't try again to have a child. But Serena knew better. There'd be no other children with Grant.

  The trauma of losing her child, after the twin shocks of Eric's death and her break-up with Grant, was more than she could handle. Serena teetered on the edge of a serious depression.

  Dana tried to convince her to call Grant for help, but she refused. Had she made the right decision? Would Grant have seen his job differently if he'd known about the baby? Serena honestly didn't know. Thankfully, she responded to treatment. Four months ago, she stopped the anti-depressants altogether. But just as she managed to get her life back on track, Grant rolled into the middle of it, on a hospital gurney, near death. And now she was reliving the past, all over again.

  The nightmare had returned. And she knew the reason why. Grant had nearly died, without knowing about the son they'd created. The son who hadn't been strong enough to make it in this world.

  One thought dominated all others. Despite the passage of time, Grant deserved to know the truth about his son.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A loud banging on her door woke her up late next morning. Several hours had passed last night before she'd finally dropped off to sleep. Groggy, Serena stumbled from her bed, swearing under her breath when her bare toes smacked the wood frame of her doorway.

  "Serena!" Marta's frightened voice chased away the last remnants of sleep. She ignored her stinging toes. "Open up. Rico's hurt."

  She flung open the door to find Marta anxiously bent over Rico's small frame lying half-propped against the wall between their apartments. His face was bloody, battered and bruised. Serena dropped to her knees. "Call 911, Marta. Now."

  Marta sobbed but did Serena's bidding. Serena's heart squeezed as she examined Rico.

  Gently, she lowered him to the floor so he was supine. He was unconscious and Serena was very worried about internal bleeding into his brain. His pulse was thready and his respirations were shallow. She pried one of his eyes open, then the other to examine his pupils' response to light.

  They reacted, although she was concerned that the right side constricted slower than the left. She glanced down the apartment hallway towards the stairs. Where in the hell was the paramedic unit?

  Marta stepped from Serena's apartment, leaving the door open. "Is he OK?"

  "He's fine." Serena kept her voice firm. "Get me a cold washcloth. We'll take care of the worst of the blood."

  With a jerky nod, Marta agreed and turned back inside. Serena couldn't have cared less about the blood, but at least the task gave Marta something to do. Quickly, she ran her hands along his limbs, searching for signs of other injuries.

  The seven minutes they waited for the paramedics to arrive were the longest Serena could ever remember. When they thundered up the stairs, carrying a stretcher between them, Serena stepped aside gratefully.

  "This is a twelve-year-old boy who was beaten primarily around the face and head. There are some bruises on his abdomen but nothing noted on his extremities. No limbs appear to be broken. He's remained unconscious and his last vitals were stable, except I couldn't check his blood pressure."

  The two paramedics listened to her as they worked. They quickly hooked him to a heart monitor and re-checked the vital signs for themselves.

  "Neuro status stable," one paramedic noted. He glanced at Serena and Marta. "Which one of you is his mother?"

  "I'm his sister, his legal guardian." Marta bravely stepped forward. "Will he be all right?"

  "Did you do this?" the paramedic asked coldly.

  Marta paled as if he'd slapped her. Serena stepped forward and placed a stabilizing arm around Marta's slim shoulders. Marta trembled in her grasp, but her tone was fierce. "No! Of course not. I would never do this."

  The paramedic's eyebrows raised questioningly. "Then who did?"

  Serena had had enough. "We think he's been hanging with the Hombres. They are probably responsible for this. I've lived across from Marta and Rico for a year. Marta has never lifted a hand to Rico."

  The rude man dropped his gaze, then worked with the other paramedic to strap Rico's unconscious form onto the stretcher, preparing to take him away.

  "Wait," Marta cried. "Where are you going?"

  "Trinity Medical Center." The quieter guy tossed the name over his shoulder. "You can meet us there." The two men wheeled the stretcher towards the stairs, then carried him down.

  "We'll both go. I'll drive," Serena told Marta firmly.

  The ER was busy when they arrived and Serena felt horrible for Marta as the poor girl was grilled over and over again about Rico's injuries before she was allowed in to see him. Serena continued to vouch for Marta, knowing how worried she'd be about the possibility of losing custody of her brother.

  They waited while Rico was taken for a CT scan and subsequently to get radiology films taken. Finally they were allowed in to see him.

  "Marta?" Rico was awake, but with his bruised face, he had difficulty speaking. His words were slurred.

  "I'm here, Rico." Tears streamed down Marta's face. "You're going to be OK, do you hear me, nino? You're going to be fine."

  "Rico, who did this to you?'' Serena stepped closer to his bed, laying a hand on his skinny arm. "We have to notify the police."

  "No." Rico shook his head, then whimpered. Marta stroked a hand over his brow. "Hurts."

  Serena stifled a flash of sympathy. "Rico, the people here think Marta did this. If you don't tell the truth, then she may get in trouble." Serena knew full well that a young, barely twenty-one-year-old sister of a twelve-year-old was going to raise concerns. Her word on their behalf might not be enough to prevent Social Services from getting involved. And she couldn't imagine what some social worker would think of the long hours Marta worked between keeping two jobs.

  Rico stared at Serena through puffy eyes already turning brilliant shades of black and blue. "Hombres. That's all I'm saying. No names. A group of Hombres did this to me."

  * * *

  The doctor admitted Rico to hospital to keep an eye on his concussion. So far the CT scan was negative for intracranial bleeding, but that could also change in the next twenty-four hours.

  By the time Serena returned home, it was late. Too late to stop over at Grant's place to talk. And the next day, she was scheduled to work second shift in the trauma ICU at Trinity. Maybe she'd wait for a few days until Grant was feeling better. She couldn't shake him from her mind. Even while at the hospital with Rico and Marta, she'd wondered if Grant's fever had broken. Was he doing his coughing and deep-breathing exercises? Was he taking the pain pills? Or was he too stubborn to listen?

  There was a home health nurse stopping in to take care of him, she reminded herself. Stop thinking up excuses to go over there. He doesn't need you.

  But it took all her willpower not to succumb to her need to see him.

  Grant waited for Serena to return, determined to get to the truth behind her shadowed eyes. But she didn't come near his door. Thankfully, his fever broke the next morning and each day he felt better and better.

  Except for the damage to his thigh muscle, he was satisfied with his recovery. His thigh bothered him, though. He'd attended his physical therapy sessions religiously, but the young man who worked with him refused to comment on his chances of getting full strength back.

  "That's a question for your doctor," was the frustrating reply.

  Grant returned home after his a
fternoon session at the physical therapist and restlessly paced his living room. He could walk, but it was really more of a limp and hobble. One more day alone in this house and he'd go bonkers.

  The doorbell chimed as if on cue. With a wry smile, he opened the door to find Ted Reichert standing there.

  "Come on in, Captain." Grant opened the door wide. "I'm climbing the walls in here by myself."

  "Glad to hear you're feeling better." Ted came into Grant's living room and settled on the sofa with a sigh. "I stopped by because I thought you'd want to hear the news from me first."

  The somber expression in the captain's eyes put him on alert. "What is it?"

  "Another cop was shot last night by a member of the Hombres gang."

  Grant closed his eyes. "My God. Who? Will he be all right?"

  "Jack Neuman and, yeah, he'll make it. We're waging a full-scale war against these kids, though. Stupid little punks."

  "Do we know why the Hombres are shooting cops?"

  "Yeah, we've busted a few and grilled them for a long time. Seems that this is some new gang initiation rite. Only they pair up, coming at the cop from two , opposite sides to better their chances.''

  Instantly, Grant remembered hearing from Dr. Hardy how his chest wound had been from the front, but his thigh wound had been from the back. For a moment he remembered shooting the guy with the gun, only to be hit from behind.

  "I don't believe it." Grant shook his head. What in God's name would they think of next? "I want to help."

  "Are you medically cleared yet?" the captain asked mildly.

  Hell. "Not yet, but I can do office work. Wade through some of the autopsy reports. Match ballistics information."

  "Look, Sullivan, we're on this. Don't worry about a thing. The sooner you get better, the sooner you'll be back on the team." The captain popped another antacid in his mouth, chewing noisily. "Just thought I'd let you know."

  "Please, let me come down to the precinct, even for a few hours." Grant didn't like to beg, but this sitting around uselessly while gang members played target practice with cops was asking too much. Kids turning into killers. What in the hell was the world coming to?