Wounds That Won’t Heal

by Calle J. Brookes

  Except with him.

  Jillian turned toward Rafe and stepped closer. She just needed his arms around her again for a moment or one thousand. That was all. She took another step toward him.

  Just as the glass shattered behind her.

  102

  Rafe watched in horror as the window exploded. He lunged for her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Rafe rolled to the left, covering her with his own body. He'd been in Africa long enough to recognize the sounds of gunfire striking the brick and glass of his home.

  Rafe kept Jillian covered until it stopped, until he heard the sounds of tires squealing off in the distance.

  He did not move until he was sure the shooters were gone. He kept her covered with his own body until he heard his cousin yelling his name and pounding on the front door.

  Chance didn't wait for the lock. His cousin used the key he had and came barreling in. Jillian was clinging to Rafe, and Rafe scooped her up off the floor. "Are you hit?"

  "No. Just glass. What was that?" She pressed her hand over a slice on her arm. But Rafe could see the blood welling beneath it. There were cuts on her body. Glass in her hair. The white shirt was rapidly turning scarlet.

  Were any of her injuries significant? He looked at his cousin. "First aid kit, under the bathroom sink."

  Rafe kept one hand on Jillian, and stretched the other arm out until he could grab the nearest kitchen drawer. He pulled out a handful of towels. "Sweetheart, we need to get the bleeding stopped. Where first?"

  "Someone shot at us, didn't they?" Light brown eyes stared up at him as the reality of what had happened started to sink in. She was shaking beneath his hands.

  Was she going to fall apart now? Jillian? She was the strongest woman he knew. She wouldn't fall apart.

  "Yes. They did. Let's get the bleeding stopped and then we'll find them. We'll let Chance and Elliot have them. How does that sound?"

  Chance returned in time to hear that. "How is she, Rafe? We had no clue she was even over here. Kevin's out of town, with Syd. We thought Jillian must've gone home with Lacy or Ari last night. We didn't realize she was here."

  "I stayed here, Chance. Obviously." Some of her natural sarcasm was returning. Some of the shaking had subsided. Not much, but enough that he didn't think she was going to fall to pieces as he held her. Rafe covered the worst wound in her arm with a clean dish towel then wrapped medical tape around the arm.

  They really had no choice. He could not attend to every laceration adequately with just a small first aid kit. Each wound would have to be flushed to make certain that glass didn't remain inside. A small sliver of glass could do all sorts of damage to a body if it went deeper than just the epidermal layer. And that was just if infection didn't set in. He could not do that fast enough to stop any bleeding.

  He would have to get her to the ER. He looked at his cousin. "I'm taking her to the hospital now. You have Elliot's men meet us there."

  "I'm getting over to Brynna. Houghton's security guard is with her now. We’ll take my car. Just in case someone tampered with yours." Chance sent him a significant look that told Rafe the two of them would be talking when this was over.

  When Jillian was safe and taken care of. Protected. If she hadn’t moved away from the window when she had...

  "I'm going to wrap her in a blanket, get her to the car." A sudden thought occurred to him. He didn’t want her exposed. "Chance, you're sure the shooters are gone?"

  "We sent a second guard to block the road. No one else is getting in. Let's get Jillian to the hospital; we’ll talk when it's taking care of."

  "I am a sister-in-law, Chance, not an it."

  Jillian looked up at Rafe with resignation in her eyes.

  They both knew exactly what was going to happen the instant he got her into the ER. The instant they said where she had been when the attack happened.

  Any chance they had of secrecy—privacy—had just ended. Rafe found that he didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what anyone anywhere thought about him and Jillian. He’d shout it to the damned planets if he had to. Jillian was with him. He was damned proud of that fact. And he knew it.

  What he didn’t know was how she felt about it.

  103

  Allen was just finishing up with a patient when the pneumatic doors opened and Rafael Holden-Deane walked in, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms. It didn't take much for him to recognize the red hair.

  Holden-Deane carrying her around was starting to become a familiar sight at FCGH. And people were beginning to talk.

  Not that it was a far stretch from the way the two always fought to something more sexual in nature. Passion guided humanity, after all.

  He finished with his current patient, then stepped toward the two. He waved at Annie to follow.

  "What happened?" Allen asked. Jillian’s hair was darker red than usual. From blood. Damn it; she’d been through enough lately.

  "The window shattered behind her. At least two dozen small cuts, at least six that will require flushed and stitched. Do we have anyone else free as well? I want her taken care of quickly."

  The rage in the other man’s words was hard to miss. As was the way the two of them clung to each other. Allen tried to push some of the sting of seeing her with another man away.

  Allen shook his head. What the hell had happened? "No. We’re swamped, as it is. We need Lacy back; any word when she's returning?"

  "It'll be another month, at least. I want her healed completely before she steps foot in this building again." Holden-Deane sat Jillian down on the gurney. She was surprisingly quiet for Jillian. The other man pulled the blanket back just as Jillian's brother-in-law and sister—complete with newborn baby—stepped into the exam bay.

  Allen saw the fear in her sister’s eyes. The worry. Brynna Marshall clutched her baby close and stepped nearer to Jillian. "Elliot's coming, Jilly. To find out what happened. The TSP are on their way to Rafe's house now. What happened? What happened?"

  “I’m going to be ok, Bryn. No bullets hit me. I promise.”

  “But what happened and why?”

  A question Allen wanted answered himself. He looked at Holden-Deane. "Good question. How did this happen? Something come through the window?"

  "You might say that," Jillian said. Allen studied her for a moment while Annie prepped everything they would need to flush the wounds. Holden-Deane pulled the blanket the rest of the way off of her, revealing what Jillian was wearing beneath. Just a bloodied white undershirt. And the shorts were thin cotton navy that hung below her knees.

  It wasn't exactly an outfit most women would choose to wear out in public.

  The clothes belonged to a man. A very big man.

  Much like the one hovering over her right now.

  Her lips were swollen, like she'd spent a few hours kissing someone. And that was beard burn on the side of her neck opposite the scar. Allen strongly suspected Jillian had just climbed out of someone's bed.

  He knew just whose bed she’d been in, too.

  Annie had everything ready, fast and efficient as always. She was a sweet girl, and one hell of a nurse. Very pretty, too, in a quiet understated way. He’d looked at her before, had considered asking her out but had thought better of it. He would frighten a woman like Annie Gaines to death and he knew it.

  She and Jillian were close; maybe not as close as Jillian and Lacy and Ari, but close enough to be considered friends. Annie stepped behind Jillian with a pair of scissors and began cutting the cotton out of the way. Annie winced. Allen stepped behind the bed and took a look at why.

  A 3-inch shard of glass stuck out of Jillian's back. It had to hurt, but she wasn't saying anything—just sitting there quietly, letting them take care of her.

  Because she trusted them. And because Jillian was tough as nails.

  Holden-Deane hovered, for lack of a better term, as Allen went to work. While Allen handled the bigger shards, Holden-Deane and Annie cleaned the smaller wounds. Jillian flinched a time or two
, even with the numbing agent Allen used. But she didn't jerk away.

  Holden-Deane finished before he did, the nicks and scratches he dealt with far less significant than the six or so on Jillian's back that Allen was treating. Jillian had shooed her sister and brother-in-law out of the exam room, stating she was just fine with Holden-Deane there beside her.

  The sister had protested, but the brother-in-law had dragged her out of the room.

  Allen liked to think he knew the Becks well enough, but even he felt awkward around them, considering how close he had been to Logan.

  Allen tried not to think about that. He still grieved the loss of his best friend. He probably always would. Jillian and Holden-Deane had been up there when Logan had died. Had watched it all happen right before them. Had that been it? Had that been what had driven her into Holden-Deane's arms?

  He finished with the last cut, flushing it thoroughly. They’d need to take a few images to see if any shards were working their way deeper before they sutured the rest.

  By the time he was finished, Holden-Deane had Jillian's head cuddled on his shoulder and her hands clutched his arms tightly.

  It was obvious to anyone who looked at them that they had been in each other's arms before. Touched each other intimately before.

  Allen just wondered how Jillian's cards were going to fall next.

  104

  The cat was out of the bag. Jillian knew it. The knowledge was right there in Allen's gray eyes as he looked at her and Rafe.

  Rafe had refused to let Chance grab a wheelchair and had practically erupted when she’d suggested she could walk.

  Nope. He’d carried her into the ER himself. For everyone to see.

  Annie and Wanda had both squealed when they’d seen them. Wanda had rushed over to cluck around Jillian.

  Allen had gone straight to work.

  Now everyone was watching them. Everyone. Even the pharmacy tech Jessica was down in the ER at the moment, staring.

  It was Rafe's fault; did he realize that he was broadcasting exactly how he felt? In a completely-Rafe-didn’t-give-a-damn unprofessional way.

  Not that she was any better, clinging to him like she was. To be honest, Jillian just didn't care anymore.

  Let people speculate about her and Rafe; there were far worse men in the world she could be with.

  She was more than willing to tell anyone who had the guts to say anything exactly that.

  What she and Rafe did was no one else’s business. Period.

  Allen had given her an injection to numb her back. Jillian just held onto Rafe, feeling more protective of him by the minute.

  He was afraid for her. And she knew it. Understood.

  His hand was tight on the back of her head, holding her close. Secure and safe. She hadn't let herself stop to think about why they were there in the first place.

  Not yet, anyway.

  She wasn't ready to face the fact that someone had nearly killed her again.

  Jillian hadn’t been the target. There was no way she could have been. No one had known she was there.

  No one had turned on the road last night. Chance and Houghton kept it as private as possible.

  Anyone not supposed to be there would have stood out. She and Rafe both would have seen them. Yet they hadn't. Unless the person had parked somewhere and hiked in while it had been dark. Waited. Then jumped in their car and sped away after shooting at Rafe’s house; sped away loud enough for them to hear?

  It was far-fetched. But she’d heard the tires, hadn’t she? And the glass in her back was a pretty big neon sign that something more than just him digging in a few files was going on.

  "Who wants to hurt you, Rafe?"

  He looked at her like she was crazy for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  The man wasn't that dense, she knew that.

  "I mean... someone wants to hurt you. It was your car that was ran off the road. And your house that was shot up this morning." She was aware of both Annie and Allen jerking around to stare at her as she spoke. "No one knew I was with you, either time. So what's going on? Do you think it has something to do with what we discussed last night?”

  He hesitated. And that's when she knew he did suspect that very thing. And had been keeping it to himself. Why? To protect people? Or was it just because that was how Rafael Holden-Deane rolled?

  "Total honesty, Rafael. Or I walk out of this hospital and never speak to you on a personal basis again. At all. Do you understand? There will be no secrets. I...can’t handle secrets and subterfuge. Not with you.” Her voice cracked like a big wishy-washy wimp at the end. Jillian didn’t care.

  All she cared about was the man in front of her. The thought of him being hurt absolutely terrified her.

  His hands, those big strong hands of his, cupped both of her cheeks. Jillian looked into his dark eyes. “Total honesty, sweetheart. It could be someone who knows I’m digging, but I just don't know for certain. I'm going to find out. And I will keep you safe, I promise you that. No matter what I have to do."

  There was a world of hurt in his eyes and after what he had told her had happened to his friends after losing his sister-in-law, Jillian understood.

  She wrapped her mostly uninjured arm around his neck and snuggled close. She shocked herself at how deeply she felt his pain. How deeply what he felt mattered to her in that moment.

  "I know you will. I trust you." She whispered it into his ear. His hand dropped to her waist, below the worst of the lacerations and he pulled her closer.

  Annie and Allen stepped out of Trauma C and just left them holding one another. Jillian looked up at him, as something shifted between them in that instant.

  Permanently.

  She did trust this man more than she did any other.

  105

  Allen pulled Annie out of the trauma bay and gave her instructions of what he needed next.

  Jillian would probably scar after this. And she was going to be hurting for a while.

  Allen returned to Trauma C, as Izzie made the necessary call to get Jillian moved upstairs quickly. Allen listened with half an ear as the fiery dark-eyed nurse told the person on the other line that the COM was moving Jillian to the front of the line, period. And not to argue. Unless someone life-or-death was in front of Jillian, Jillian was going first.

  A falsehood, but who was about to point that out? Allen certainly wasn’t.

  Why Jillian? Hadn’t she been through enough lately?

  Holden-Deane was whispering in her ear, holding her tightly to his chest. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. And Jillian—who had told Allen specifically she couldn’t get involved with someone she worked with—was letting him.

  Wanda came up behind him. She tapped Allen on the shoulder with a file. “Knew it was just a matter of time. It was the way they looked at each other. The way they burned when in the same room. All that fire had to come out sometime. And hell, it was room 403.”

  “Seriously, Wanda?” Izzie whatever-her-name-was said. Allen didn’t know much about her. “That room is so not cursed.”

  “Isn’t it, honey? Just you wait. How do you know your time isn’t coming soon?”

  Allen listened to their chatter with half an ear. His attention was on the couple he watched. On the way they just held each other.

  106

  Fin heard the rumors ten minutes after she'd clocked in for the day.

  Rafael Holden-Deane had spent the night with Jillian Beck, and then someone had tried to kill the both of them.

  How that was supposed to happened had ranged from a drive-by shooting to a knife-wielding thug slicing Jillian to pieces. Fin winced again when she thought about that.

  Heck of a way to be greeted. She stopped off at the ER first thing, as was her habit. Usually she stopped off to chat with Izzie, Annie, Lacy and Jillian, but with Lacy still on medical leave and apparently Jillian off somewhere with Rafe, that left Annie and Izzie. Izzie was waiting to give Annie a lift home. Annie lived in the middl
e of Boethe Street. It was the worst location in the city, but with a mother on partial disability and three younger brothers and four foster siblings it was all the Gaines family could afford. She and Izzie did not like Annie riding the bus from Boethe Street. It would be far too easy for Annie to end up being a victim.

  The way Fin had.

  She and Izzie took turns making sure Annie arrived home safely after her evening shift when they could.

  "So is what I'm hearing true? Jillian?" Fin asked the two of them.

  Izzie answered. "Jillian spent the night at Dr. Holden-Deane's. Apparently they were victims of a drive-by at his place this morning. Narrowly missed hitting Jillian—that’s what I'm hearing. As it is, her back was sliced all to pieces. Holden-Deane carried her in to be treated. They are in his office now, along with the TSP. Needless to say, there are some angry, angry people on their way here right now. Even Lacy and Ari are on their way.”

  "Is Jillian going to be okay?" Their friend had gone through some really bad stuff in the last year. Fin hated the thought of her going through even more.

  And Rafe was a friend, too.

  The pneumatic doors opened and Fin looked up in time to see Virat Patel walking in, along with Lacy and Rafe's younger brother, Travis. There was worry on Lacy's face and Fin understood it. Jillian was her family. And Rafe was going to be soon.

  "Fin? Where is she?” Lacy asked, an almost panicked expression in her green eyes.

  Annie stepped forward. "Lacy, she's okay. I promise. I helped flush the wounds myself. Stitches, that's all. She's upstairs with Dr. Holden-Deane. But? She’s in a gown—and a pair of his shorts. You might want to get her some clothing out of her locker. I would have, but I don’t know her combination. I think she'd appreciate it. I know I would."

  Leave it to Annie, calm as she was, to alleviate Lacy's very obvious fear.

  Fin smiled at her friend. Annie was the sweetest person she knew.