Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Asked Me to Save His Brother
The ambulance arrived in six minutes.
Damon's men looked as though they disliked everything about it.
The flashing lights.
The uniformed paramedics.
The possibility of police reports.
The lack of control.
I didn't care.
Eli needed a hospital.
Not a private doctor with questionable supplies.
Not a warehouse clinic.
Not a frightened surgeon working behind a locked door.
A hospital.
With blood products.
An operating room.
And people capable of treating life-threatening injuries.
I gave the paramedics a concise report while they took over.
One of them recognized me.
"Leah?"
I looked up.
Marcus Bell.
We'd worked together on hundreds of emergency calls.
"Hey."
He stared at the SUVs.
Then at Damon.
"Interesting evening?"
"Terrible."
"Still at Rosebridge?"
"No."
He frowned.
"What happened?"
"Apparently I became too good at my job."
Marcus didn't laugh.
He knew enough about Rosebridge to recognize when I wasn't joking.
Eli was moved onto the stretcher.
Damon stepped forward.
"I'm riding with him."
Marcus looked at him.
"One family member if there's room and it doesn't interfere with treatment."
For one terrifying moment, I expected Damon to threaten him.
Instead, he nodded.
That surprised me.
Then Damon turned toward me.
"You're coming too."
I stared.
"I'm not employed by anyone right now."
"My brother asked for you."
"Your brother needs a surgeon."
"Please."
One word.
Quiet.
Almost difficult for him to say.
I looked at Eli.
Then at the rain.
"Fine."
The ambulance doors closed.
Inside, Marcus and his partner worked while Damon sat perfectly still.
That was the strange thing about him.
His body radiated tension, but he wasted no movement.
He kept looking at Eli.
As if sheer attention could keep him alive.
"Your brother said something about Owen Pierce," I said.
Damon's eyes moved to mine.
"Later."
"No."
"Miss Hale."
"If somebody is targeting patients, that concerns me right now."
His expression hardened.
"Eli first."
I looked at the unconscious young man.
For once, we agreed.
At Harbor General, staff rushed Eli into trauma care.
I stayed long enough to deliver the information I had witnessed.
Then I moved away from the bed.
Without my Rosebridge badge, I was no longer part of the receiving team.
That hurt more than I expected.
For nine years, I'd walked into trauma rooms knowing exactly where I belonged.
Now I stood in a hallway waiting for permission to remain.
Damon appeared beside me.
"Will he live?"
"I don't know."
He stared at me.
"You're a nurse."
"Which means I know better than to promise what I can't guarantee."
He looked through the glass.
Eli lay surrounded by clinicians.
Damon's face had turned pale.
Not visibly enough for most people to notice.
But I did.
I'd spent a decade watching relatives wait for terrible news.
Everyone had a different way of being afraid.
Some cried.
Some talked.
Some prayed.
Damon Serrano became perfectly still.
"He's my only brother," he said.
I looked at him.
"How old?"
"Twenty-four."
"What does he do?"
A humorless smile.
"Mostly what I tell him not to."
I almost smiled back.
Then remembered who I was speaking to.
"What happened to him?"
Damon looked toward the operating-room doors.
"Someone attacked his car."
"Random?"
"No."
"Police?"
"Already involved."
I studied him.
"You don't sound happy about that."
"I didn't say I was."
A detective arrived twenty minutes later.
Juliette Marsh.
Late thirties.
Dark hair pulled into a tight bun.
Tired eyes.
She looked at Damon as though she'd seen him in too many interrogation rooms.
"Serrano."
"Detective."
Then she looked at me.
"Leah Hale?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
I folded my arms.
"Everybody keeps saying that."
She asked what I'd seen.
I told her.
The SUVs.
The injured man.
My role.
Eli's statement about Owen Pierce.
At that, her expression changed.
"What exactly did he say?"
I repeated it.
She wrote carefully.
Then asked:
"How do you know Owen?"
"He was my patient this morning."
"What happened to him?"
"A vehicle collision. Internal injuries. Surgery."
"Is he still at Rosebridge?"
"I don't know."
Marsh stared at me.
"You were his nurse."
"Until the hospital fired me."
She looked up.
"For what?"
"For refusing to ignore serious concerns about his care."
Marsh's pen stopped.
"Who was the attending?"
"Dr. Simon Kessler."
She was silent.
A little too silent.
"Detective?"
She closed her notebook.
"Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?"
I almost laughed.
"That depends on what kind of night you're predicting."
"Answer the question."
"An apartment on South Ninth."
She exchanged a glance with the officer beside her.
Then asked:
"Does anybody else have access?"
"My younger sister."
"Anyone at Rosebridge?"
"No."
"Good."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because Owen Pierce wasn't just an accident victim."
My heartbeat increased.
"What was he?"
"An emergency communications technician."
I frowned.
"Meaning?"
"He worked on the software that coordinates hospital diversions and ambulance routing across the city."
I stared.
That explained why his hospital chart listed an employer I'd never recognized.
"Why would someone want him dead?"
Marsh hesitated.
"I don't have a confirmed answer."
I thought about his words.
Don't let them transfer me.
Then about the unexplained change in his care orders.
"Somebody at Rosebridge knew he was coming."
Marsh didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
At 10:43 p.m., Harbor General's surgeon came out.
Eli had survived the operation.
His condition remained serious, but the team had controlled the immediate bleeding.
Damon exhaled for what seemed like the first time in two hours.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
"What?"
A pause.
"Say that again."
Another pause.
Then he ended the call.
I watched him.
"What happened?"
"Your patient."
My stomach tightened.
"Owen?"
Damon nodded.
"He's gone."
I stared.
"Gone where?"
"Rosebridge says he was transferred to a recovery facility."
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"He came out of major surgery less than twelve hours ago."
Damon watched me carefully.
"The transfer happened at nine."
I looked toward Marsh.
She was already on her phone.
"Which facility?" I asked.
Damon's jaw tightened.
"There isn't one."
The supposed destination was an abandoned rehabilitation center that had been closed for four years.
Someone had entered a transfer order.
Moved an injured man.
And erased the place he'd been sent.
Marsh looked directly at me.
"Leah, when you said the hospital fired you for saving Owen Pierce…"
I swallowed.
She continued.
"I think somebody wanted you out before he disappeared."
Then Damon received a photograph.
Owen lying in a transport ambulance.
Eyes open.
Alive.
The image had been taken less than ten minutes earlier.
Beneath it was a message:
YOU FOUND THE WRONG NURSE, DAMON.
SHE'S GOING TO DIE FOR WHAT SHE SAW.
Damon looked up.
At me.
And for the first time, the danger in his eyes wasn't directed outward.
May you like
It was fear.
For me.
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