Мозг и его потребности. От питания до признания. Вячеслав Дубынин

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Мозг и его потребности. От питания до признания - Вячеслав Дубынин

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didn’t want to be separated. The irrational fear that she would die if she was out of his sight crowded into his fevered brain. He licked his lips as he looked past the doctor’s shoulder into the pristine room that lay just beyond.

      “Can’t I just…?”

      Reese firmly shook his head. There was no room for debate, no time for an argument. “No.”

      Wallace dragged his hand through slicked-down brown hair. He knew the longer he stood out here arguing, the less time the doctor had to do what needed doing. Saving the ambassador’s daughter. Saving the woman he had sworn to protect with his very life.

      “Okay,” Wallace said breathing heavily, as if dragging his bulk around had suddenly become very difficult for him. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

      “There’s a waiting room,” Reese said, pointing down the hall toward the cheerfully decorated area that was set aside for the families and friends of patients in surgery.

      “Right out here,” Wallace repeated, stationing himself in the corridor against the opposite wall. From his position he would be able to look directly into the operating room.

      Reese shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

      Maybe the man was a relative, Reese thought. Or connected to the woman on some level that went far deeper than first noted. Or maybe the man was one of those people who took their jobs to heart. If so, Reese couldn’t fault him. He fell into the same category himself.

      The next moment Reese entered the operating room, and all extraneous thoughts about missed breakfasts, silent alarm clocks and strange personal connections were left out in the corridor.

      Along with the man with the solemn face and worried eyes.

      Three hours later it was over.

      The freshly made openings had all been sutured closed, the bleeding had been stopped, the ribs had been taped. She wasn’t, as her bodyguard had demanded, better than new, but she would be well.

      The woman’s vital signs had never faltered once. They’d remained strong throughout the lengthy procedure, as if her will to live was not to be snuffed out by whatever curve life and the road had thrown at her.

      He wished all his patients were that resilient.

      Weary, hungry, relieved, Reese stripped off his surgical mask and cap for the second time that day. Now that this newest crisis was over, he became aware again of the deep pinched feeling in his gut. It felt as if his stomach was stuck to his spine. He still hadn’t had a chance to take in anything more substantial than a stale candy bar.

      This time, he promised himself, he didn’t care if the paramedics brought in Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer laid out on nine stretchers, he was determined to go get something to eat before he literally passed out from hunger.

      At this point freshness would no longer play a part in his selection. He didn’t care what he ultimately got to eat. His only criterion was that it remain relatively inert long enough for him to consume it.

      Even the bran muffin was beginning to sound pretty tempting.

      But first, he knew, he had to go out and face the sentry out in the hall. The man who had remained steadfast throughout the entire procedure, standing there like an ancient gargoyle statue, guarding the door and watching the surgeon’s every move. Reese hadn’t had to look up to know that the deep-set brown eyes were taking in everything that was being done in the small, brightly lit operating room.

      “How—” The single word leaped out at him as soon as Reese pushed open the door.

      “She’s fine,” Reese said quickly, cutting the man off. He didn’t want to stand around for any more threats or whatever it was that the man had in mind now that the operation was over. “Like I said, she had some internal bleeding, but we found all the openings and sutured them. She had a couple of fractured ribs as well—”

      Wallace stopped him right there. “Fractured?” he demanded. “You didn’t mention them before.”

      Reese chose to ignore the accusatory note in the other man’s voice. Instead, he cut him some slack. It was pretty clear that they were both a little over-wrought, he thought.

      “It could have been a great deal worse. The paramedic who brought her in said her car was totaled.” Reese saw guilt wash over the wide face. Had that somehow been his fault? he wondered.

      “Yeah, it was.” And then, just as suddenly, the guilt left his eyes. His expression turned stony. “How soon can she be moved?”

      “Why don’t we wait and see how she does first?” Reese calmly suggested. The next twenty-four hours would decide that. “In the meantime, maybe you should go to admitting and give them any information you can about her. Administration has forms to keep your mind busy for a while.”

      “I don’t need to have my mind kept busy,” the man snapped.

      “But I do.” With that, Reese turned on his heel and began to walk away.

      “Hey, Doc.”

      For a moment, Reese debated just continuing to walk away. There was no sense in encouraging any further confrontation. But if there was going to be another scene, he might as well get it over with now.

      Suppressing a sigh, Reese half turned and looked at the larger man. “Yes?”

      There was what passed as a half smile on the man’s face. He suddenly didn’t look the least bit threatening, but more like an overgrown puppy whose limbs were too big for his body.

      “Thanks.”

      Surprised, it took Reese half a beat to recover. He nodded. “It’s what I do.”

      Mercifully, Reese’s stomach had the good grace to wait until he was well down the hall before it let out with a fearsome rumbling.

      Each eyelid felt as if it was weighed down with its own full-size anvil.

      Either that, or someone had applied glue to her lashes.

      Maybe they should apply the same compound to the rest of her, London thought giddily, because she felt as if she had shattered into a million pieces.

      A million broken, hurting pieces.

      Breathing was almost as much of a challenge as trying to pry her eyes open. It certainly hurt a great deal more.

      And right now there was a herd of drunken African elephants playing tag and bumping into one another in her head.

      London heard a deep, wrenching moan echoing all around her, engulfing her. It sounded vaguely familiar.

      It took her a beat to realize that the noise had come from her.

      The pain was making her groan. And why did it feel as if there was a steel cage wrapped around her upper torso?

      London opened her eyes or thought she did. The only thing that seemed to be filtering through was white. Lots of white.

      Heaven? It

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