glance, then inclined her head. “Of course.”
When the petite blonde had gone, Veronica’s gray gaze swept over the three occupied beds. “I trust you’ll be able to handle yourself?”
The underlying message was clear—no more mess-ups.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sniffed. “See that you do.”
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur, as one of the female patients roused and promptly vomited. While Audrey was tending to her, the other woman’s vitals started fluctuating, calling for her to investigate the issue. She didn’t like that the hospital was understaffed. Typically, in the recovery area, each nurse was assigned to one patient. But HR had been slow in replacing the employees they’d lost. In recent months, two nurses had moved out of the area, one had quit to be a stay-at-home mom and yet another had accepted a different position in the hospital.
“Please, I need water.” The girl who’d gotten ill was perspiring.
Audrey looked down the aisle at Julian. Because of his history of responding poorly to anesthesia, Chasity had thought it best to place him apart from the others. He appeared to be resting comfortably.
She wouldn’t be gone long. Five minutes, tops. “I’ll get you some ice chips.”
“Thank you.” The patient gave her a weak smile.
In the hallway, an X-ray technician strode past, acknowledging her with a simple nod. David was a new hire. Quiet and introverted. Heather in pre-op had a crush on him. Something about his small, shifty eyes made Audrey think of him as stalker material.
She waited until the hallway was clear before hurrying to the room where they kept sodas and snacks for patients. There were three nurses in line ahead of her. Stifling a sigh, she experienced a rising tide of unease. It won’t happen again. It can’t. Not on my watch.
* * *
Julian was on the helicopter again. He felt it list sharply to the right. Saw the ground racing up to meet them. Heard the other guys’ warning shouts. Smelled the stench of gasoline and blood. Death was all around him, coming to claim him, too.
He jerked awake. Seconds passed before he could make sense of the stark white walls, the metal rails on the bed and the tube attached to his hand. He was in the hospital for an outpatient procedure. He wouldn’t be stuck here for days on end, like last time.
Movement registered in his peripheral vision. He turned his head. A doctor was pulling his privacy curtain closed, creating a small cocoon of blue-tinted shadows. The man didn’t introduce himself. Between the surgical cap and mask, only his eyes and eyebrows were visible. He gazed down at Julian with scalpel-sharp concentration.
“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” Julian said, his mind fuzzy and his stomach doing somersaults. He hated being put under.
There was no response to his question.
The snap and tug of latex grated on Julian’s nerves. Once the white gloves were in place, the doctor produced a syringe and needle and reached for his hand.
Something was wrong. He could feel it.
“What is that?”
Still silent, the man quickly inserted the needle into the port attached with tape to his hand. He injected the substance into the line.
“Where’s my nurse?”
What was her name? He could clearly picture her youthful face, her vivid blue eyes painted with disquiet. She was familiar to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint the connection.
After recapping the needle, the doctor stood and stared at him. Waiting.
Julian glanced around for a call button. There was none.
His heart began to pound. A cloud of pain spread through his chest. His lungs felt full of water. Couldn’t...breathe—
“You drugged me,” he sputtered, his words slurring.
A buzzing sounded in his ears. Black patches distorted his vision.
An alarm close to his bed began to go off. His blood pressure. Too high.
The man reached across and flipped a switch. Silence.
“Help—”
A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, preventing him from calling out.
He pushed at the man’s arm with his uninjured hand. The surgical meds, combined with the mystery drug he’d been given, left him weak. He couldn’t utilize his hand-to-hand combat skills if his body refused to cooperate.
Pray. Seek God’s help.
Dizziness washed over him.
God hadn’t heard him when their helo went down.
He was going to die, after all. Not a hero’s death.
Murdered by a stranger. For what reason?
Sweat poured off him. He thought of his parents and three younger sisters. And his team members’ loved ones, who viewed him as their last link to their fallen marines. And he thought about his nurse, whose name he couldn’t remember. She had compassionate eyes. She would take a patient’s death hard.
He tried again to dislodge the man’s hand.
A distant shout echoed down the room. The stranger ripped through the curtain and bolted for a set of doors.
Julian clawed at the IV tube and yelled for help.
Trying to draw breath into his lungs was an impossible chore, and his heart was spasming.
He had seconds left to live.
She was going to lose him.
The heart monitor flashed a red warning. Julian was unconscious and his chest wasn’t moving. No air was passing through his lips. The EKG strip showed a lethal rhythm, his heart in sustained V-tach.
Audrey called a code and dropped the bed to its lowest position. The mattress deflated to provide a hard surface. After tilting his head back, she placed her hands in the middle of his chest and began compressions.
Please, Lord Jesus, save him. If he dies, it will be my fault.
She counted in her head. Then, pinching his nose closed, she delivered rescue breaths.
Please, God...think of his family, his friends, his marines.
The code team raced in with the crash cart. She quickly told them about the intruder running free in the hospital, but there wasn’t time to guess what he might’ve done to Julian. Dr. Menendez ran the code, evaluating the patient and clipping out orders.
