man raced away into the building.
Frustration mounted in Duncan, and he felt the same emotion emanating from this unknown woman. She was obviously a caring and concerned person, as well as stunningly beautiful. She stuck her fingers through the space in the front window and pulled. The window didn’t budge. “Dammit.”
Duncan joined her and managed to slide his fingers in alongside hers. “On three, pull. One, two, three…pull.” Together they put their muscles to work, but the window simply didn’t move. They couldn’t get enough leverage on it.
“Dammit! Where’s Security?” He glared toward the building, but there was no rescue party racing up the hill. “We’re going to have to do this ourselves.” One glance in the backseat was all he needed to realize she was right. The baby would die in the next minute unless he was rescued.
And then what they both feared happened. The child had a seizure, its little limbs jerking uncontrollably in response to the high temperature in the car forcing its body temperature too high. The brain could only take so much before reacting badly.
“There has to be something we can use to smash the window.” The woman glanced around. “There!” She ran a few feet to grab a landscape rock nearly hidden by shrubbery.
“Give it to me.” He took the rock, and she turned her back, but stayed close. With everything, every ounce of strength he had, he smashed the rock into the driver’s window, determined to get this baby free. Never again was he going to let someone die in a car. Not if he could help it.
Glass shattered. She shoved the window in with the heels of her hands and released the door lock. “Got it.”
Duncan yanked open the back door. In the last few seconds the baby had lost consciousness after the seizure. With quick thinking, she released the car-seat clasp and Duncan pulled the child free.
“We have to cool him quickly.” She pulled off his shoes and socks and stripped him down to his diaper.
“Let’s go.” Duncan raced into the ER with the woman at his side. “Pediatric code! Call a pediatric code,” he yelled as they sprinted through the doors, the baby clutched against his chest.
This man was obviously known here and thank heaven for that, Rebel thought as she raced into a treatment room with him, her hand supporting the baby’s head.
Once she had her hands on him, she refused to let go, as if her touch could infuse life into him. Staff arrived quickly and took over the scene. Once on the stretcher, the baby was flaccid, his breathing erratic.
“Get an IV in him.” Duncan gave orders and the staff were already responding. Performing in code situations was something these people did routinely and were obviously accustomed to working together.
Out of her element and uncertain what to do, Rebel wet a towel at the sink and draped it over the boy’s head.
Duncan looked at her with dark brown eyes filled with dangerous anger, and she nearly stepped away. Had she overstepped her boundaries? He didn’t know she was a nurse or that she had any medical knowledge whatsoever.
“Good idea. Cool his brain off.” He gave a grim nod and continued to give orders, orchestrating the scene. After the boy was hooked to the respirator, Duncan took a stethoscope and listened to the little chest as it rose and fell in synchronization with the respirator. “This will rest him a bit.”
Rebel tried not to give in to the awful sense of dread crawling into her limbs and stomach. These heroic efforts may have been too little, too late. The baby had had a grand mal seizure, the worst kind. His immature brain had gotten too hot too fast and might not recover from the insult. Even if he survived, he could have lifelong brain damage.
Rebel pressed her lips together as emotion overwhelmed her. Images of her family flashed into her mind. “We didn’t get to him in time.” He was going to die. Just the way her father and three brothers had.
“We don’t know that yet,” Duncan said, and clasped Rebel’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture that failed to bring any comfort. She knew that no matter how good medical care was, people still died. Her father had been the first, then her brothers. Nothing had been able to stop the disease that had taken them all.
“Time will tell,” she said, defeated by the rescue efforts she knew were probably futile. If there were miracles in the world, they hadn’t been given to her family. Each of her brothers had died a slow, agonizing death, leaving behind holes that could never be filled.
Duncan looked at her as if trying to read something into her words. “Yes. Time will tell.” He moved to the side and drew Rebel with him. “Is this your child?”
“What? No.” Rebel’s eyes widened, surprise on her face. “I just happened to come along at the right time.” She looked away. “I guess it was the right time.”
“I see. Just doing business in the hospital?” He normally didn’t stick his nose into the business of others, but this was an unusual and very traumatic situation. One he wanted to figure out now.
“Actually, I’m here to finish up some pre-employment paperwork. I’m a travel nurse. Start tomorrow.”
They moved into the hallway as the staff finished stabilizing the boy to transfer him to the pediatric ICU. There was always hope. There had to be for him to carry on with this work as a healer, a physician, as a human being. If there was no hope, what was the point in even trying? Even when his fiancée, Valerie, had been near death, he’d had hope she’d survive. Unfortunately, he’d been wrong that time.
“Where will you be working?” Curiosity made him ask.
“Here. In the ER.” The sideways smile she gave said it all.
Duncan nearly chuckled at the irony of the situation, but held back. This was no laughing matter, and he could see in her expression that she thought the same thing. “Quite a trial by fire you hadn’t expected.”
“It’s the life of an ER nurse.”
“Yes, for ER doctors, too. I’m Duncan McFee, one of the physicians here in the ER.” He paused a moment and watched her soulful green eyes follow the child as he was wheeled toward the elevators. “How are your hands?” He gestured for her to hold them out.
“My hands? What do you mean?” She frowned and looked down at them.
“Your palms, I mean.” He placed his strong hands over hers and turned them over. His touch was firm and warm and a little tingle she hadn’t expected rushed through her. “You pushed the glass in with your hands, and I’d like to make sure you don’t have any cuts. Glass can go deep before you even know it.”
“I did? I don’t remember doing that.”
“You did.” He stroked his fingers over the heels of her hands and her palms, using his sensitive fingertips, looking for any irregularities. “Guess we’ll be working together if you stay.” He released her. “Looks good. What’s your name?”
“I’m Rebel Taylor and what do you mean, if I stay?” Rebel raised her brows and leveled her intense eyes on him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the paperwork.
