Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I screeched to a halt in front of the ER, scooped Beckett into my arms and ran inside through the empty doorway. Lloyd was sweeping up the broken glass and I nodded him towards my pickup. “Colt’s in the back. Get some fucking handcuffs on him.”
Lloyd nodded as if that was something he’d very much enjoy, and stalked outside.
I ran deeper into the ER. In the dark, no one had seen me, yet. “I need a gurney!” I yelled. “And I need help!” Taylor, Adele and Lina all clustered around me, asking what had happened, asking who it was. They couldn’t see….
And then, mercy of mercies, the lights flickered on. Maggie must have wired up the replacement generator. Everyone blinked in the sudden glare and—
“Oh Jesus, no!” Taylor’s voice was a weak rasp as she recognized Beckett. Adele and Lina went pale. We ran to the gurney Bartell had fetched and I laid Beckett on it.
For the first time, I could get a good look at the wound. The bullet had hit her dead-center, gone straight through her and come out of her back, doing God knows what damage on the way through.
Everyone was looking at me. “Tell us what you want,” prompted Bartell.
God, they expected me to be a doctor. But I couldn’t—Beckett wasn’t a patient, she was one of us, she was mine, she wasn’t meant to be—
“Corrigan!” snapped Bartell.
I nodded. Took a deep breath. Ah, God.... And focused.
“Two units O-neg,” I snapped. “Taylor, intubate, Adele, get me her vitals.”
The air buzzed with numbers, all of them bad. I could see the blood on her lips: at least one lung had been damaged. “Rib spreader,” I said. “We’re going to have to—”
My throat contracted. I couldn’t say open her up. Couldn’t think of her that way. This was Beckett, she deserved to be above all this, out of harm’s way.
The others helped me cut Beckett’s clothes away. When I saw the ugly wound next to the gorgeous, pale skin I loved so much, I wanted to storm outside, find Colt and finish him.
I raised the scalpel... and froze. Ah hell. My stomach flipped over. I knew we needed to get into her chest. I knew that. But the thought of cutting into her—
Bartell’s voice was urgent, but gentler than I’d thought him capable of. “Corrigan, I can do it.” He reached for the scalpel.
“No!” I snatched it away, took a deep breath... and cut. Used the rib spreader to open her chest. And then I was staring at her, the essence of her, the stuff we rely on every day but never think about. Her blood. Her lungs.
Her softly beating heart.
I followed the bullet’s path of destruction. The room swam behind wetness and I had to blink to see. It had come in at a steep angle, missing her heart, but tearing through one lung. It had nicked her spleen and kidney and left her bleeding from more places than I could count.
“Pressure’s 90 over 60 and dropping,” said Adele.
“She’s going to need surgery,” I said. “Call upstairs and—”
Everyone around the table went silent. And call who? Our only surgeon was on the table. Beckett was going to die unless….
“Put a mask on me,” I ordered. “And I need clamps and sutures.”
“But you’re not a—” began Taylor
“It’s the only chance she has,” I told her.
Lina tied a mask over my mouth and helped me shove my arms into a surgical gown. Adele suctioned away blood, then handed me a clamp. I stared down at Beckett, my heart pounding in my chest. How the hell does she do this? To me, the maze of organs and blood vessels was chaos, just like the bustle of the ER was to her.
“Heart rate’s 120,” Adele told me, her voice tight.
I tried to focus. To forget that it was the woman I loved, to think about systems and pressure and which artery branched where. All the anatomy I’d learned in medical school slipped through my fingers like mist. Fuck. I can’t do this.
I looked up for a second, towards her face. She looked peaceful. She could have been sleeping in my bed.
I was the only chance for her to wake up again.
I took a deep breath and pushed everything else out of my mind. And I went to work.
67
Amy
HE WAS the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. Two deep, soulful pools of blue gazing down at me, his brow creased with worry. “You okay?” he asked immediately.
I tried to speak, but my throat ached, as if it was bruised from the inside. That started me coughing and that really hurt, like my whole chest was on fire. What the hell was wrong with me?
Then I remembered.
I managed a weak nod. Considering all that, I felt fine.
Corrigan’s brow slowly uncreased and he gave me a big, wide grin.