Captured (Devil's Blaze MC #1)(84)

Pulled from her thoughts when Dane shut the truck off, she saw that they were at the police station. Getting out and looking around Emily blurted out, “Oh, I don’t f*cking think so.” before trying to make a run for it.





PUSHED

A. F. Crowell





BOOK ONE IN THE TORN SERIES




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PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

PUSHED

Copyright ? 2015 A.F. Crowell



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ISBN 978-1-942886-70-9



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Chapter One: Leila

The ER was relatively quiet for a Friday at 4:45 a.m., especially since it had been raining for the better part of the humid summer night. I was a four-year veteran of the Shock Trauma Center at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. Over the years I have seen it all, so nothing surprised or rattled me anymore.

Well, nothing until this Friday morning.

I was changing my scrub top for the first time that shift when a call came in from paramedics in route. I caught only the last few words, “GSW to the chest with massive blood loss, five minutes out.”

Adrenaline started to pump through my veins, as it did every time they had a ballistics trauma in route. In the back of my mind, I cursed myself for being excited at someone else’s horrible misfortune. But this is my job and I’m damn good at it. My best friend, partner in crime and fellow trauma RN, Barb Kelly, walked up to me as I was entering the locker room.

“Hey Lei, did you hear there is a GSW in route?” she asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I was just gonna change really quick, it’s still five minutes out. My last case was this huge biker with a superficial laceration and damn if he wasn’t a big baby. The guy jumped at the sight of the lidocaine and knocked over the Betadine, which of course spilled all over me.” Pulling the wet scrub top over my head, I tossed it in my locker.

Barb glanced over her shoulder, heading to the bathroom. “See ya in there. Oh hey, did they announce which trauma room they are putting him in?”

Talking through fabric as I pulled on a clean ceil blue scrub top, I told her, “Nah, I wasn’t really paying too much attention. All I heard was GSW and I knew I had to change quickly so I could be the first one in there and beat you. I haven’t had my adrenaline fix tonight. And before you ask, no, the big biker baby does not count.” I stuck my tongue out at her with a giggle.

Barb chuckled and rolled her eyes as she closed the door to the bathroom. “Well, let me know which room. There is enough to go around.”

I shook my head and started out the locker room door back to the pit to see where the charge nurse had assigned the incoming trauma. On the way down the hall, the call came overhead, “Incoming GSW two minutes out trauma three.”

Damn, that was on the other side of the ER.

“Well, there is no way in hell I am running down the hall in my Danskos,” I muttered under my breath. The last thing I needed to do was the Dansko roll on the way to the only really good trauma of the night. They are great shoes if you’re on your feet for twelve hours at a time, but definitely not for running. I picked up the pace, careful not to fall, but enough to beat Barb there. That’ll teach her to stop to pee.

I reached trauma three with time to spare and went about setting up the room just so. Then I gowned up, got on my gloves and ear loop mask, then put on a pair of glasses. Ten hours into my last twelve-hour shift for a week and this case was probably going to take me right to the end of shift.

The overhead speaker called out again, “Leila Matthews please call three-four-seven-six.”

UGH. Who the hell wanted me right now?

I was on my way to the nurse’s station to answer the page, when I heard the paramedics calling out vitals and running down the hall with the trauma. As I rounded the corner back into the trauma corridor, I saw way too many cops for a single GSW.

My heart started pounding as it always did when I saw that many cops in the ER clumped together; it meant the GSW was an officer.

Silently, I said a prayer for the fallen officer. As I approached the room and pushed my way through the army of men, I could hear Dr. Miller hollering out orders.

“Page the trauma surgeon on call STAT. And call the OR and get a room ready now!”





Chapter Two: Leila