Relieved, he traded grins with Ian and Tommy. While Tommy recorded Shaw’s blood pressure again, Josh carried on a low conversation with Shaw. Somewhat one-sided, but Shaw did manage a few muffled answers. Enough to reassure Josh that there seemed to be no obvious damage to cognitive functions from the brief episode.
The truck swerved as they pulled into the hospital, throwing him against Ian, who put an arm around his shoulder to steady him. He let himself lean into the solid warmth, then pulled away, flushing. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Ian sounded a little out of breath. Probably from all those compressions.
He looked up into glowering eyes. No smile on that generous mouth. “You’re not pissed about me working on your patient?”
“I get that he’s your patient now. Officially, I mean.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Right?”
“Yep.”
“Then your insurance is valid for Florida?”
“I’m covered.” Josh stiffened. Like he didn’t know why Ian was asking that question. Why would he care, unless this was about the clinic? And for a moment, he thought maybe . . . How stupid am I? Or desperate?
The siren cut off as they drove under the awning of the Emergency entrance. The doors popped open, and Josh jumped from the cramped back, dodging the stretcher as Ian and Tommy rolled it out and then through the double doors of the ER. Nurses ran to help, crowding him back as Ian conveyed information in a succinct, calm tone.
Josh trailed them, unwilling to let them out of his sight. Did they need more info?
“I have his records,” he said to one of the nurses standing by with a tablet recording the information with rapid taps of her fingers as Ian and Tommy reported.
He tried to follow them through the next set of doors, but she held up a hand. “No visitors past the doors.”
“But I’m his—”
“See the nurse at the desk.”
Ian glanced back at him as he went through the door. Their eyes met as Ian left him behind, following his patient—Josh’s patient—into the emergency bays.
Josh stared after them in the sudden silence.
Ian found Josh in the lobby, pacing and snapping into the phone. Josh didn’t look up as Ian drew close enough to hear his tight voice. “Did you bother to talk to him about it at all when he came back from New York? You knew the recommendation. It was in his file, for God’s sake.”
Although the words from the other end of the phone were too indistinct to make out, Ian recognized the smooth, cold tones of Dr. Langdon.
“I’ve been his doctor all of three weeks,” Josh interrupted Langdon. “So don’t you dare try and—”
The man was throwing one hell of a hissy fit. He waved his hands around—even the one holding the phone—palms slicing through the air so sharply Ian just knew that phone was going to go flying. The righteous anger looked good on him, though—the color high on his cheekbones, his eyes the dark gray of an afternoon storm rolling in from the gulf.
“No, you wait,” Josh snarled. “If I hadn’t been there, he could have died. Don’t you—”
Awesome as it was to witness, Josh’s head was going to explode if he kept it up. As Josh’s voice rose again, Ian moved closer and placed a hand on Josh’s back.
Although Josh didn’t acknowledge him, he didn’t pull away. Had he even noticed? As Josh’s harangue continued, Ian felt something he’d never expected—maybe a little bit sorry for that supercilious ass Langdon.
He rubbed Josh’s back with short, slow strokes and sensed rather than heard the deep breath Josh took as some of the tension left his muscles.
Running his hand up Josh’s spine, Ian squeezed his shoulder briefly and then, not wanting to overdo it, he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Okay.” Josh seemed calmer. “Yes, I’ll keep you informed.”
Clicking off the phone, he tucked it into his pocket before turning to look up at Ian. They stood close enough that he had to tilt up his head an inch or two to see into his eyes.
When he didn’t say anything, just stared, Ian gestured toward him. “Hope you don’t mind that I . . . um . . . You seemed like . . .” His voice faded.
“No.” Josh contemplated him, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “No, I don’t mind.”
“Okay.” Ian relaxed, then grinned. “Did I hear you cussing out your boss?”
“I wasn’t cussing,” Josh said, affronted. “I was completely professional.”
“Don’t nitpick. You yelled at Langdon.”
“How did you know who I was talking to?”
“He wasn’t exactly quiet either, and I know his voice.”
“How?”
“Coffee?” Ian turned and headed in the direction of the cafeteria. “I stuck Tommy with the paperwork. I’ve got a break coming.”
Josh hurried after him. “Wait.” He snatched Ian’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “What about Shaw?”
Strong, long-fingered hands gripped Ian’s biceps and didn’t let go as Josh waited for an answer. Ian didn’t look down, for fear Josh would realize he was holding on and drop his hand. “He’s awake and stable, got some family here,” Ian answered. “They’re getting a cardiac consult.”
“Okay, then.” Josh didn’t let go.
Ian rested his hand on the back of Josh’s neck and massaged him lightly. “He’ll be fine, Doc. We did good.”
“We did, didn’t we?” Josh sighed as he smiled up at Ian, his eyes warm again. His breath tickled Ian’s neck.
“Yeah.” Ian stroked the short bristles on Josh’s nape as he gazed back. Although Ian had liked Josh’s shoulder-length hair, this looked good too; the short sides invited his fingers upward to play with the longer, smooth strands swooping across his forehead.
Ian let him go, and they moved away from each other as they resumed their walk toward the cafeteria. “Why didn’t you tell the nurse you were the admitting physician? You haven’t been here long enough for her to know your face. Or are you provisional?”
“I haven’t applied yet.”
“You . . .” Ian blinked. “You haven’t?” Almost all private practitioners had some type of affiliation with a nearby hospital. What did it mean that Josh hadn’t bothered applying for admitting privileges?
“I haven’t had time. Anyway, Langdon and Burke have privileges, so I thought there wasn’t any rush.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m stuck waiting around like everyone else.”
“You know, Shaw will come out of this better than when he went in.”
“True. Damn shame it was the only way to get him to cardiac care though.”
“His decision, Doc. Not yours and not—God help me for saying it—not Langdon’s either.”
“I suppose,” Josh groused, but let it drop.
They got their coffee and a couple of dry-looking turkey sandwiches and then headed for a corner table. Even at lunchtime, half the tables remained vacant, although the food line was busy with hospital workers grabbing lunch and taking it back to their floors.
When they sat, Ian attacked his sandwich with the appetite of someone who’d started his shift at an ungodly hour and didn’t know what the afternoon would bring. He glanced up when he’d almost finished to see Josh gazing at him with an amused glint in his eye. He’d barely touched his own lunch.
“What?” Ian gulped down a huge bite. “Aren’t you hungry?” He eyed the other half of Josh’s sandwich.
“Not for this.”
Ian raised an eyebrow.
A touch of red washed Josh’s fair skin. “I didn’t mean . . . Here.” He nudged his tray toward Ian.
“I know.” Ian chuckled as he reached for the sandwich. “I’m fuckin with ya, Doc.” Mostly. He shoved the rest of the sandwich in his mouth with a few large bites and washed it down with another big swig of cooling coffee. Although he didn’t know Josh well, this pensiveness seemed out of character from what he’d seen so far. Did Josh regret yelling at his boss?
“So how are you liking the co
ncierge gig?”
“It’s fine. I meet lots of interesting people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I do.” Josh’s eyes flashed.
Ian’s mouth twitched. That was more like it. “You wanted in that emergency room.”
“Of course I did. I wanted to go with my patient.”
“I call bullshit. I saw your face. You miss it.”
After a pause, Josh conceded, “Sometimes.” He seemed regretful, but then his eyes hardened. “I don’t miss the kind of people that go there.”
Ian almost dropped his cup. “The . . . kind of people?”
“You know.” Josh’s voice sounded flat. Implacable. “Criminals. Drug addicts.” His icy voice dripped contempt on that last word.
The shock hit Ian like a knife to the heart. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “That’s . . .” He steadied his voice. “That’s not really fair, is it?”
“Not fair?” Josh’s eyes darkened. “We’re working our asses off to save their lives, and they go right back out and do their damnedest to throw them away again. What’s the point?”
“They’re not all like that. Sometimes one visit and a little help is all they need to get back on track.” Ian stopped his hand from reaching for the twin medals on the chain under his shirt.
“And sometimes one visit is all it takes to ruin the lives of perfectly good people trying to do their jobs.” Josh touched his side for a brief instant.
Ian had wanted to wake him out of his pensive mood, and he’d succeeded all too well. But instead of the bright attraction of righteous outrage, now Josh just appeared angry at the world . . . at least on the surface.
Ian softened his voice. “What happened to you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does if it made the world lose a good ER doctor. It does if it’s making you miserable.” It does if it means you’ll never smile up into my eyes again.
Josh stiffened. “I’m hardly miserable. I’m doing fine.”
“You left New York for a reason.”
“Which is none of your business.”
“And it’s obviously bugging you.”
Josh looked annoyed. Ian had that effect on people.
“If you hate all people with addiction problems or who might be a bit on the wrong side of the law, I’d like to know the story.”
“Why? So you know whether you can ask me to volunteer at your clinic?”
Ian sat back. “Langdon and Burke have something to say about it?”
“They said you don’t have a medical director. They said most of the people you treat are afraid to come into town for the clinic here because they’ve got warrants that will land them in jail or an addiction that will land them in mandatory rehab.”
A flare of rage shot through him. “They said all that, did they?”
“They did, and if all that’s true, then I want no part of it. Is it?”
“What?” Ian was busy trying to keep his butt in the seat and not go flying off to find someone to throttle.
“Is it all true?” Josh persisted.
“No.” Ian hesitated. “And yes. Some of it.”
Josh pushed himself away from the table, clearly ready to stand.
“Wait,” Ian said. “Don’t I get a chance to have my say?”
The struggle on the doctor’s face was obvious, but he looked scared more than anything. Ian schooled his voice. “Please, Doc—Josh, give me another minute.”
Josh sat back in his seat and waved a hand, silently inviting him to make his case.
“We do have a medical director. We couldn’t operate without one, so that’s bullshit. Langdon is wrong about that.”
“Burke doesn’t seem too fond of you either.”
“I met him at a fundraiser we had for the clinic when I first started it a couple of years ago. He seemed interested—he was interested—in helping out a few hours a week. But then . . . That was my fault. I was so gung-ho, you know? I didn’t understand why everyone wasn’t as enthusiastic as me.”
Ian sighed. He’d really mishandled that situation. “I may have been more persistent than I should have been. He started getting pressure from Langdon to quit, and from his wife too, I think. She wanted him to spend his free time with his family.”
“Can’t fault her for that.”
“No. But at the time . . . It was such a struggle to get it all going.”
“And it still is.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe because most people have enough common sense not to volunteer at an understaffed, barely sanctioned clinic where anything could happen and help is too far away. Do you have any security at all?”
Ian snorted.
“Of course not,” Josh said bitterly. “Why would you? Medical professionals are supposed to be all self-sacrificing and noble because we’re here to help people. But we deserve consideration too. At least some basic safety protocols and a few people around who can watch out for me while I do my job.”
“Is that what happened? You got hurt in the ER?”
Josh gave a tight nod. “The hospital reduced security staff until they were spread so thin, they were useless. Cost-saving measure.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He was so obviously flying, this guy, total meth head. Possibly mixed the meth with something else. I never got the whole report. He got in with a knife.”
Ian tensed. “Jeez.”
“It never used to be that way, that’s the thing. Security would have searched a guy like that. They would have stayed with us until we sedated him. But there was no one around this time, was there?” Josh took a deep breath. “He came off the bed and had the knife in me so fast I didn’t even know what had happened until I looked down and saw the blood all over my scrubs.” He pressed his hand to his side. “I remember thinking, ‘Where did that come from? Who’s bleeding out?’”
Around them, the hospital staff came and went, taking their short breaks before rushing back to their duties. Ian knew many of them and gave return nods when they waved across the room.
After a long moment of silence, Ian looked down at his tray and pushed it aside, the sandwiches now sitting like lumps in his belly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I know a little about PTSD. Have you seen anyone?”
Josh tilted his head, hair falling over one eye. Ian resisted the urge to reach over and brush it back.
“I bet you know more than a little.”
Ian avoided the attempt to turn the conversation. “Have you seen anyone?”
“The hospital paid for a counselor. Gave me a compensation package too. But I might have made a statement or two to the press they didn’t like.”
Remembering that righteous indignation on the phone to Langdon, Ian had to smile. “I bet you made a hell of a fuss about the hospital policies.”
“Yeah.” A smile flickered across Josh’s face, vanished. “I couldn’t work there anymore. Didn’t want to. The counselor agreed moving away might be the best thing. Start over somewhere fresh.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Six months.”
“That’s nothing.” Ian rested his elbows on the table. “I wouldn’t pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. I think you miss the ER, though. One day you’ll be ready to go back.”
Josh didn’t look convinced of that. “And now you know why you shouldn’t bother asking me about your clinic.”
“Not every drug addict is dangerous. Sometimes they just need help.”
Josh’s face was hard, the gray eyes like stone in the harsh overhead lights.
Ian tried again. “The clinic means a lot to me. When I got out of the Army, I was in bad shape. My family, my friends—they all helped me. Got me out of the hole I’d dug for myself. Starting the clinic was . . . I don’t know . . . my way to give back to people who needed help and weren’t getting it anywhere else.”
Josh opened his mouth, but Ian interrupted him. “And they’re not all addicts and criminals. There are a few p
rostitutes wanting tests and antibiotics for STDs. They’re scared to go to the county clinic because they think they’re going to get arrested. And there are families too, coming in from rural areas, some living deep in the ’Glades. A lot of them don’t speak English, so I try to find social workers who speak Spanish or Creole and can help set them up for services. Come and see—”
“I spent seven years in the ER. I don’t need a lesson in how the other half lives.” Josh pushed back from the table, then paused. “It’s a good cause,” he acknowledged. “But I’m sorry. I won’t be working in your clinic.”
Ian’s voice turned harsh. “You think those rich people you’re treating aren’t just as capable of putting a knife in you? They may be using the best coke instead of meth, but it’s no less dangerous.”
“I haven’t seen any evidence of that.”
“You sure about that?”
“Maybe,” Josh said reluctantly. “Some alcoholism. Some prescription drug abuse.”
“I guess that’s acceptable when you’re wearing Chanel.”
“I never said that.”
“Am I interrupting something, Mr. Manolas?” Dr. Aguto stood at their table, her approach unnoticed. She carried the AED that had accompanied Shaw in the truck. The pleasant smile on her face belied the sharpness in her dark eyes.
Just as well she was here. Ian still kinda wanted in the hot doc’s pants, but this conversation was definitely not leading in the right direction.
“Dr. Aguto.” He stood, smiling at the tall, thin woman in her white lab coat. “Good to see you.”
“I heard you brought us a patient, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
“How is he?” Josh pushed back from the table, stood as he asked, “Is there any news?”
She tilted her chin at him. “You must be his GP. You were with him during the episode?”
“Yes. Is he—”
“He’s quite stable and being seen by a cardiologist.”
Relief lightened Josh’s face. The anger from moments before vanished.
Ian’s mood lifted in response, and he performed the introductions. “Dr. Kesi Aguto is Head of the Emergency Department.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Josh held out his hand. “Dr. Joshua Parker.”
The Doctor Takes a Detour Page 7