Fine Line (Crossing Lines Book 1)

by A. D. Justice

  She’s already lost a lot of blood.

  I rip her shirt open and wipe away the blood covering her skin, trying to find the wound so I can apply pressure and slow the loss. When I finally locate the hole, she’s even quieter than just seconds before.

  “No, Savannah! No! You hold on. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking give up on me now!” I jerk my shirt off my back and use it to put pressure on the wound.

  The plethora of sirens from police, EMS, and Fire/Rescue vehicles coming from behind me bring little relief with them. The entry hole is low in her abdomen…lower, in her pelvic region. The internal damage a bullet does in that region is catastrophic. I’ve been in this line of work long enough to know that without a confirmation from a doctor. The ride to the hospital will be the longest ride of our lives.

  Multiple sets of tires screech to a halt, and a host of men and women descend on us from every side, hauling every piece of medical equipment they have. I’m pushed out of the way to make room for all the emergency procedures they need to perform to try to save her life. I pray it’s enough to keep her going until they can get her into the operating room.

  The paramedic calls out her stats before issuing medical directives to the others, letting them know what he’s doing and what he expects them to do. I hear terms like bilateral IVs with fluid bolus, run them wide open, and hypotensive. I know enough to understand none of that equals good news about her condition.

  “This will be a load and go. Get those bilateral lines in right now. Let’s move fast, ladies and gents.” The paramedic in charge points to two EMTs then down to Savannah’s hands.

  “What’s her name?” The paramedic swings his gaze to me, and it’s then that I realize I’ve dropped to my knees at her head.

  “Savannah Fields.” I’m running on autopilot. I have no idea how I even answered him with a coherent response. If asked, I couldn’t even tell him my own name at this very moment.

  “Hey dear, can you tell me your name?” His voice is loud, nearly shouting at her, and he rubs her shoulder to get her attention.

  When she moans in response, my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. “Savannah.”

  “Savannah, do you know what today is?”

  She answers correctly while the flurry of activity continues around her.

  “Do you remember what happened to you?” The paramedic continues to ask questions, but I think he’s checking her mental status more than anything. He’s already performed a rapid medical assessment on the rest of her body.

  “Shot.” Her voice is weak, but I thank God it’s there at all. Her sweet voice is music to my ears.

  He looks up at me again. “Do you have any idea what caliber bullet hit her?”

  “Yeah, he had a 9mm.” The paramedic nods before signaling the rest of the team to wrap it up.

  “We’re taking you to the hospital now, dear. You’ll feel a lot of hands moving you onto the gurney then we’ll load you into the back of the ambulance. I’ll be back there with you the whole time.” The paramedic asks which hospital she prefers, so I give him the name of the one where she works and assure her that I’ll be right behind the ambulance until I’m by her side again.

  Only minutes after arriving, the ambulance takes off, running lights and sirens at breakneck speed out of the area. The fire and rescue crews are still on the scene, picking up discarded medical supplies and plastic wrappings. The police canvass the scene, writing up reports of the shooting and gathering information from eyewitnesses. A young rookie cop calls out to me to stop when I jog toward my truck.

  “Hold up. We need to talk to you about what happened here.” The young buck puffs out his chest and gives me his practiced stern expression.

  “Ask all you want—at the fucking hospital, you moron. I’m not standing here one more second with you while she’s fighting for her life.”

  He yells at me again when I turn to leave, but I ignore his commands. I hear a familiar voice tell him to let me go. When I glance over my shoulder as I slide into my truck, I see Spencer taking charge of the scene. He nods at me, knowing there’s no stopping me, and he wouldn’t try to anyway. I grab an extra shirt from my gym bag in the back seat and quickly pull it over my head before throwing the truck into gear.

  Red lights and stop signs are all one big blur on my way to the emergency room. My lead foot lets me catch up with the ambulance before they even pull it into the emergency bay. By the time they’re unloading her, I’ve already parked and run to the double doors to walk in with them. There’s no way anyone can make me stay in the waiting room and leave her back here alone. My badge comes in handy when my presence is questioned—it gets me out of speaking at all. They just nod and keep working. As long as I’m not a psycho civilian, I’m allowed to wait here, out of their way.

  Watch and wait.

  The emergency room doctor orders X-rays and imaging immediately, telling the staff to clear the way for Savannah—“stat.” Then he instructs another nurse to page the specialist in female pelvic medicine and reconstructive surgery for an immediate and urgent consult. Two nurses wheel Savannah by me on the way to radiology. Her skin is pale, and her breathing is slow. Tubes are attached to each arm, and an oxygen mask covers her nose and mouth. Bags of IV solution hang above her head as do bags of blood. Wires snake out from the blanket covering her, and my eyes follow them to the heart monitor. I’m not a doctor, but I know a fast heartbeat and a low blood pressure are not good signs in an emergency situation. But as long as that heart monitor records a beating heart, my heart will keep beating too.

  The logical part of me knows she’s only been away for mere minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I pace back and forth in front of her room in the emergency department, straining my ears to catch any word of her condition. She’s lost so much blood. They have to get her into surgery immediately and fix her.

  Don’t they?

  “Nick!” A frantic voice yells my name from behind me. I whirl around to find Karen rushing toward me. “What have they said?”

  “I don’t know anything yet.” I relay the bits and pieces I’ve picked up while stalking outside the door. The color drains from her face.

  “You’re sure they said to page the reconstructive surgeon?”

  “Yeah. That’s not a title I’d know without hearing it first. Why? What does that mean?”

  “That’s Dr. Jeff Smith. He’s a brilliant surgeon, but he’s only called in on the very worst cases. The ones other doctors don’t want to attempt because of the complexity and bad odds. He will definitely help her, but it means the bullet did extensive damage, Nick.”

  Karen and I talk for a few more minutes while we wait together. This is where Karen works too, so she has access to every bit of information we could possibly need, but she opts to wait and hear it from the doctor with me. She’s a good friend, because if I had her access, I’d be on that computer reading every single word.

  “Karen, are you here with Savannah?” A tall man wearing a white lab coat approaches us. He’s not much older than me, but one glance at the name embroidered over his chest pocket tells me this is the genius surgeon who holds the love of my life’s life in his hands. Dr. Jeff Smith.

  “Yes, Dr. Jeff. This is Nick, Savannah’s…fiancé. You can tell us both—I’ll vouch for him.”

  “Come with me. She’ll need your support.”

  We follow Dr. Smith through several twists and turns in the hallways until we reach doors with bright red no-entry signs and large white AUTHORIZED ADMITTANCE ONLY lettering across them. Behind those secure doors, several people in surgical scrubs are preparing Savannah as quickly as they can.

  We reach her bedside, and I place my hand on her arm. Her eyelashes flutter a few times before she opens her eyes to look up at me. I can see and feel her relief, the reassurance she feels from simply knowing I’m here with her.

  “Savannah, I’ve been called in because of the severity of your pelvic trauma. The impact of the bullet has injured your ute
rus and is causing a lot of bleeding. The damage to your uterus is severe and irreparable. I am uncertain as to the damage to your ovaries. In order to save your life, I have to perform an emergency hysterectomy to remove the uterus. After this surgery, you will never be able to become pregnant. Do you understand what I’ve just explained to you?”

  His tone of voice is kind, but his message is direct. As a federal agent, I understand the need for bluntness. It leaves no room for misunderstanding or confusion. As a man who only wants to protect the woman he loves, the finality of the doctor’s words strikes like a knife to my gut.

  I wish that bullet had hit me instead.

  I should’ve shot him instead of waiting for him to comply with my commands. He was unarmed and fleeing at first. My training kicked in—I couldn’t use lethal force against an unarmed man. Had I merely pulled the trigger, Savannah wouldn’t be in this position now and Butch would be dead. I’d gladly pay any price to go back and change my decision now. The strict rules I’ve followed have now cost me more than I could’ve ever imagined.

  This is all my fault.

  Tears stream out of Savannah’s eyes like free-flowing waterfalls. Her bottom lip quivers uncontrollably until she pulls it between her teeth to try to stop it. She closes her eyes, but that does nothing to stem the tide of tears falling. She nods her head and weakly whispers her consent to surgery. “I understand, Dr. Jeff.”

  “We’re taking you into the OR immediately. I’ll give you a minute or two with your friends, but that’s all we can spare.” He turns his gaze to me. “The OR nurse will call the surgical waiting room to give you periodic updates during the procedure. Try to make yourself as comfortable as possible. We all have a long night ahead of us.”

  He claps me on the shoulder as he leaves, a sign of understanding just how devastating this news and this predicament is for all of us. I lean over the side of the bed, being careful not to jar her too much, but I want to be as close to her as I can get.

  “Darlin’, I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get out of surgery. No matter how long it takes or how long I have to wait to see you again. And I’ll be by your side, taking care of you every minute of every day afterward. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you in time. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  She squeezes my arm—not hard, but it’s there. I don’t know how she has the strength or energy to move at all, but she doesn’t respond verbally.

  “I love you, Savannah. I loved you yesterday. I love you today. And I’ll love you tomorrow. Nothing can ever change that. I only love you more every day.”

  Her tears increase again, but she remains quiet. I know what’s running through her mind. Her self-esteem has been battered and beaten for years. This blow is too much for her to take. All at the hands of that fucker Butch. When I’m finished with him, he will regret not turning that gun on me instead of her. He has no idea what he just unlocked deep inside of me. No one does. Not yet anyway.

  “We have to go now. You can wait just outside those doors in the surgical waiting room. We’ll call the phone in there to give you status updates.” The OR nurse unlocks the wheels of the bed and takes Savannah away.

  Karen wraps her hand around my arm and tugs me toward the direction we came in. “We’ll be here for a while, Nick. Let’s go find some coffee and the waiting room. She’s in good hands. Trust me.”

  Karen’s emergency room training must be running on all cylinders, but my training just flew out the fucking window. I can’t think straight for shit. My brain basically just shuts down, allowing Karen to lead me through the hospital corridors until we’re seated in a room full of uncomfortable chairs with bad hospital coffee in hand. I don’t even remember getting here.

  Some undercover hero I turned out to be.

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you hear a word I just said?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “I said, she’s going to be fine. She has lost a lot of blood, but they got her here fast. She has the best of the best surgeons. She’s strong, and she was conscious when we just saw her. All very good signs.”

  “You’re right. They’re absolutely good signs that she’ll pull through. But she never should’ve been in this predicament in the first place. She wouldn’t have been hurt if it hadn’t been for me.”

  “That’s not true at all. She’s tried getting away from Butch for years. He has hurt her in so many ways. This is all on him. Not you, Nick.”

  “I’ll lose her after this. She won’t see me anymore once she’s released from the hospital.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I think she knows why, from the expression on her face. But in case I don’t know everything about Savannah, she wants to reserve the right to reassure me.

  “Because one night when we talked about our future, Savannah told me she wanted to have fertility testing done first. She had doubts about her ability to become pregnant and said she wasn’t sure she would marry me if that were the case, because she felt like she would be taking an important part of my future away from me. Well, now we know the answer to that question for sure, don’t we?”

  “You told her it doesn’t matter to you, didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I did. And I meant it. All I need is her for the rest of my life. Everything else is optional.”

  “Give her some time, Nick. What happened tonight is already a lot to take in, and now she knows she can’t have kids in addition to almost being killed. On top of that, she thinks she’s letting you down, because that’s just her personality. Let her come to terms with the trauma first, then she’ll come to terms with you and your acceptance of her—just the way she is. One step at a time and it’ll all be okay. Eventually.”

  “I’m not so sure. She wouldn’t even look at me back there once she knew the severity of her injuries. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve turned to me for comfort. Before Dr. Jeff gave her the news, I felt how much she needed me. After, she wouldn’t look at me at all. She’s already pulling away from me.”

  Hours pass with frequent updates from the OR staff.

  She’s doing well.

  Everything is going as planned.

  She’s tolerating the surgery well. Nothing unexpected.

  The surgery is over. They’re just finishing up. The doctor will come to the waiting room to talk to you when he’s done in here.

  She’s being moved to recovery. They’ll monitor her back there for about an hour. Dr. Smith is on his way to you now.

  My nerves are shot, waiting for Dr. Smith to walk into this waiting room. They’ve already assured us she did fine in surgery. But the specifics about the damage that 9mm bullet caused are what I’m dreading now.

  The surgeon finally comes in and pulls up a chair across from us. The expression he wears is serious—all business—but maybe he has to separate his work from his life like I do. Compartmentalize to survive and stay sane.

  “Savannah is in recovery now. The surgery took longer than I planned because the internal damage was extensive. I had held out hope to save her uterus going in, but that was not even remotely possible. To stop the bleeding, I had to remove it and close several nicks in her uterine artery. She’ll have to stay in the hospital for a while. We’ll need to monitor her closely for bleeding and any signs of infection.

  “She’ll be moved to ICU for close observation over the next several days, but I’ve left instructions for them to let you two see her for a minute or two. Don’t expect more than that, though. The ICU nurses have a lot on their hands and not a lot of extra time. Also, don’t expect her to be able to stay awake. She has a pain pump and we’ve already given her quite a lot of pain medicine, but I know just seeing her will make you feel better. Any questions?”

  “Does she know for certain you had to do a hysterectomy?” I hold my breath and wait for the reply I know is coming.

  “She knows. She may not remember all the details when she first wakes up, though.”

  C
hapter 19

  Savannah

  The intense stinging slices through me before I even open my eyes. I’m not sure where I am, why I’m here, or what happened to me at the moment. The searing pain makes it hard to concentrate on clearing my foggy brain. When I try to move, my limbs feel extra heavy, almost like dead weights are attached to me.

  The faint beeping of the heart monitor and hiss of the oxygen cannula are unmistakable clues, sounds I’m used to hearing on a daily basis. Fighting against the lead weights on my eyelids, I finally pry them open and glace around. The dim room with curtain partitions between the rows of beds and soft lights overhead is all too familiar. I’m in the recovery room at the hospital.

  I’ve had surgery. Major surgery, if my pain level is any indication. All at once, the events come rushing back to me like scenes playing on a movie projector. Butch. Nick. Linda. The family crisis center. The gun hidden in his motorcycle. The crude remarks. The cruel smirk. The blast from the muzzle. Then complete darkness consumed me as Nick screamed for me to hold on.

  Dr. Jeff telling me I’ll never have children of my own.

  Even though I knew that was a possibility before, now it’s a certainty beyond the realm of medical intervention. My thoughts are jumbled in a haze of anesthesia and pain medicine, but my heart understands perfectly. Nick’s words of reassurance swirl in my head, but that was when the situation was mostly hypothetical—and potentially fixable.

  I’m past that point now. Theory has become reality. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I let them flow, falling unchecked to the pillow beneath my head.

  “There she is. You sure gave me a scare, Savannah.” One of my nurse friends slides up to my side and grasps my hand. Her voice is low and reassuring, but she can’t mask the tint of sadness in it. “You’re in recovery now, sweetie. You came through the surgery with flying colors. Just rest now. We’ll move you out of here in an hour or so.”