Page 10 of Protecting What's Mine
It was official. Janice was his favorite.
Linc’s cell rang from the depths of his gym bag. Automatically he reached for it with his right hand and winced.
Doc Dreamy—he wondered if knowing her real name would ruin any of the entertaining fantasies he’d concocted while Dr. Ling ruthlessly shoved the head of his damn humerus back into the socket—rolled her eyes.
She took the bag from him and fished out the phone.
“What’s up, Lighthorse?” he said.
“Checking in. Still have both arms?” his friend asked.
“Good as new. In fact, if you’re still at the scene, I can probably swing by and help with cleanup,” he offered.
“No!” Dr. Ling and Doc Dreamy announced together.
Brody laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got some babysitters. We’ve got it under control. DUI, by the way. Truck driver had five doubles at a dive bar before climbing behind the wheel. Ran after the wreck, but the highway patrol found him. One dead. Seventeen injured. Six seriously.”
Linc swore under his breath.
One was too many. A useless death for a selfish, bullshit reason.
“One’s better than I expected,” Brody said.
“Me, too. Still.”
“Yeah. Still. Anyway, I sent the rook to take Sunshine home. Want me to have her swing by the hospital? Give you a lift?”
Linc looked at Doc Dreamy, who was stuffing the patient care instructions he fully intended to ignore into his gym bag.
“Nah. Got it covered. Thanks for taking care of my girl,” he said.
“Your girl probably ate your curtains and pissed on your toaster by now,” Brody predicted.
That sounded about right. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow at the station.”
“For light duty only,” Dr. Ling yelled.
“Busted,” Brody snickered. “Save your energy for the forty tons of paperwork.”
They disconnected, and Doc Dreamy took Linc’s phone and stuffed it in the bag. “Let’s go, Lefty.”
“You want to ask about my girl, don’t you?”
“Nope,” she said, shouldering his bag. “You ready?”
“Dr. Ling?” He extended his left hand and shook hers. “Ladies? Thanks for the superior medical care. Five stars all around.”
“Happy to help,” the doctor said dryly.
He followed the doc out of the curtained-off bay into the bustle of the emergency department. A kid, young from the sounds of it, wailed pitifully from somewhere. A guy in the next bed held a towel soaked with blood over his forehead and stared miserably at his shoes. Nurses—at least the ones of the female persuasion—paused long enough to flash Linc a smile before sailing off to the next patient. They flirted in rotation, folding a wink or a sweet smile in with the rest of their duties.
“Chief! Wait!” Lurlene rushed up, cheeks flushed. “I just heard from the OR. Splenectomy is going well. She’s expected to make it.”
“Thanks, honey.” Linc placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“Said she coded on the way here and the air team brought her back and intubated her. She was real lucky.”
“Yeah, she was,” he murmured, thinking about the devastation caused by one man and his problem. “Nice save, doc.”
