Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(60)

“Oh, I’m just observing,” Susan said, walking toward her. The nurse’s hot pink Crocs squeaked against the tile floor.

“Oh, good. So, how’s it going?” she asked anxiously. “Is it over so soon?”

“No,” Nurse Susan shook her head, pasting on that look all medical professionals perfected over time. The one that gave absolutely nothing away. “There’s been a slight complication.” At the expression of abject horror that passed over Michelle’s features, Susan of the pink Crocs quickly pressed on. “It’s nothing major. He just has a few adhesions. Those are connections to abdominal organs by thin fibrous tissue. It’s not totally uncommon, but it does complicate the surgery a bit. And in the off chance we’re going to need to transfuse, we were wondering if there was anyone in your family with Franklin’s blood type who’d like to donate. He’s AB negative. And as I’m sure you were told at his birth, that blood type is extremely rare. He could be transfused with A neg, B neg, or O, but an AB donor would be better. Again,” she said, “let me stress that the chances of us needing to do a transfusion are incredibly small.”

The more the nurse spoke, the dizzier Michelle became. But she grabbed on to the back of a chair, steadied herself, and concentrated on the question. “My blood type is A,” she said, raising a hand to one pounding temple. The air in her lungs burned like she was breathing kerosene. “What are you, Frank?” She turned toward her brother.

“I’m A, too.” He shook his head, his heavy brow furrowed with worry, which made her start to panic. Frank was a rock; he wasn’t supposed to get scared.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

Although that was a lot easier said than done. Her lungs were working overtime, but she couldn’t get enough oxygen.

“It’s not a problem,” the nurse assured them. “I just thought I’d check and—”

“I’m AB negative,” Jake piped up.

“Well,” the nurse craned her head around Michelle’s shoulder to see who’d spoken. “That’s fantastic! Are you the father?”

A fierce, shocking pain slammed through Michelle’s chest, and she plopped down on the chair she’d been using as a support. Bright lights flashed before her eyes.

“No,” Jake shook his head, pushing up from the waiting room sofa. “I’m just a friend.”

“Well, isn’t it lucky you were here then?” the nurse chirped, obviously pleased. “Are you willing to donate?”

“Of course,” Jake said, frowning when he passed her. “Hey, Shell, are you okay?”

She waved him on as Nurse Susan said, “Please come this way then Mr…”

“I’m Jake,” he said, casting Michelle one last worried glance before following the nurse toward the door. “Jake Sommers.”

“Well, Mr. Jake Sommers,” Nurse Susan crooned, obviously having already fallen victim to his dimples, “let’s go relieve you of some of that high octane liquid gold you’ve got running through your veins.”

“Damn,” Frank murmured after they’d gone. “It is lucky Snake was here.”

Yeah. Lucky…

That was the last thought she had before her world went black.

***

The nurse pointed Jake into a little room where a middle-aged guy in green scrubs and bright orange Nikes was busy washing his hands in a miniature stainless steel sink.

“Jake,” she said, “meet Carl. He’s the world’s greatest phlebotomist. He’ll have you a pint low in no time.”

“Have a seat.” Carl the Great Phlebotomist motioned to a chair with padded arms while snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves. The nurse gave him a wink before turning and squeaking down the hall in her ridiculous hot pink rubber shoes.

“Gotta love Susan,” Carl said, watching the sway of the nurse’s rather plump butt with a little smirk before turning back to Jake. “So you’re the elusive AB neg, huh?” He handed Jake a squeeze ball, telling him to give it a couple of good pumps while tapping at his inner elbow with a chubby finger.

“So I’ve been told,” Jake muttered, a vague sense of unease settling over him.

It’s just worry over Franklin, he told himself, though somehow that didn’t seem right.

“Ever given blood before?”

“Plenty of times.” Once during a battlefield transfusion that’d saved the life of a fellow operator but nearly killed him in the process. Of course, Carl didn’t need to know about that.

“Cool, dude. So this is gonna be a piece of cake, especially with killer veins like yours. I always like taking blood from guys who work out. That low body fat really makes the hoses pop, if you know what I mean.”

Yeah, Jake knew what he meant. Especially when he glanced down at his inner arm and saw a vein the size of garden snake winding down to his wrist.

“A little pinch now,” Carl said as he inserted the large 17-gauge needle. Jake had been shot at, dodged mortar rounds, rolled a jeep during a getaway, and been stepped on by hadjis while having to lay prone in a hide-site, but nothing gave him the heebie jeebies like a good, thick needle.

“Oh, you’re a quick one,” Carl remarked when his blood raced through the plastic tube and down into the clear collection bag, a red, life-giving river he was happy to know might help save the life of Shell’s son. In terms of shedding blood for a cause, he figured it didn’t get much better than this. “We’ll be finished in a sec.”