Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I had put on all of three pounds since he saw me, three of those pounds being in the last year due to my lack of exercise.
But he wasn’t really caring that I put on weight. He only wanted me to know that he noticed that I did. That he paid close attention to my body.
“Get. Out,” I repeated.
“But I have a cut on my hand.” He held up his hand to show me.
The cut on his hand was tiny. Miniscule. A single tiny slash that was already starting to clot.
A papercut at most.
“Get out,” I repeated.
“Think the lady said to get the hell out.”
I had never, not in my life, felt so relieved to see a man who had denied me a job.
But there Sean was, and I instantly sagged in relief.
Sean was former military, jacked, and intimidating…also, highly protective for some reason.
His eyes took in everything in a glance, and before I could so much as explain what was going on, he was standing between me and Anderson.
“Go,” Sean repeated.
“This is a county hospital,” Anderson smiled. “Funded by the county. That means that I have a right to be seen here.”
“She also has a right to screen you out,” Sean said. “Because it’s a waste of county tax money. Trust me on this, go before the police get here.”
Anderson’s eyes narrowed.
“I know my rights,” he said. “And I’m having chest pains now.”
He clutched at his chest and feigned—poorly, might I add—pain.
That was when the doctor came in, looking highly upset.
“Winnie, what’s going on here?” Dr. Stratton asked carefully.
“This man came in for a papercut on his finger. I informed him that he would likely be screened out, and now he’s feigning chest pain.”
Dr. Stratton was not my favorite doctor. In fact, if I could name one doctor that I would never, ever want to work on me, it’d be him.
If I came into the ER—emergency room—with a broken arm and he walked in, I’d get my shit and leave. He had a terrible bedside manner, was condescending to anyone he felt was ‘lower’ than him, like me, and made disgusting jokes when it was least appropriate.
“Well, if he’s having chest pains, you know we can’t turn him away. Bring him back, start an IV, and then get a couple of leads on him so we can run an EKG,” Dr. Stratton instructed.
I shook my head. “I can’t treat him.”
“Then why are you here?” Dr. Stratton snarled.
I opened my mouth to reply when the charge nurse on call made her way into the tiny room as well.
Overall the room was eight feet by eight feet with a desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk stood me, Dr. Stratton, and Tally Tomirkanivov—the charge nurse. Sean was in front of me, and then Anderson on the other side of the desk.
Outside of the tiny cubicle room stood two of the security guards that were stationed across from my room in case a patient got unruly.
All the while, Anderson smirked.
“He’s faking it,” Sean boomed, startling me. “I watched him antagonize Winnie, and when she asked him to leave, he faked his new condition. Trust me on this, he ain’t hurtin’.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t be sued if you’re wrong. The hospital, however, can be. We have no choice but to take him in and check him over. Now, Winnie, do your job.”
I ground my teeth together and almost refused.
Almost.
But then I saw the smug look on Anderson’s face.
He would be happy if I refused and then got fired.
I saw it in his eyes.
So I steeled my spine and gestured to the door. “After you.”
***
Steel
I brought a suspect in to get checked over, and walked in to see Sean, Tally—Tommy Tom’s wife, Tommy Tom—also a member of the MC, Naomi—Sean’s wife, and Ellen—Jessie James’ wife who also happened to be a member of the MC, all standing in the entrance of the ER.
They were whispering furiously about something, but Sean kept looking toward the back of the room as if something back there was of supreme interest to him.
“What’s going on?” I asked, shoving my perp at an ER tech. “Can you take him and get him cleaned up?”
He nodded and gestured to the first open bed which was about eight feet from me.
My eyes turned back to the group, and I could see that Sean was extremely pissed.
“What’s up?” I asked, then frowned. “Since when do you two work together again?”
Sean and Naomi were both paramedics; however, since they’d gotten married they weren’t allowed to be partners any longer. Now they both worked opposite shifts except for one time a week—which wasn’t today because otherwise, I’d be watching their children.
“I was called in to work,” Naomi explained. “And since the kids are at daycare, I went ahead and did it. I should be done by five, though, in time to pick them up.”