Читать книгу A Time To Protect - Lois Richer - Страница 14

Chloe shifted on the vinyl chair, lifted her heels to rest them on the seat opposite her and checked the clock. Midnight.

She still had twenty minutes of her break left and she needed it. Tonight had been crazy.

“Hi.” Brendan Montgomery’s handsome face loomed above her, his dazzling smile wide.

“Hi, yourself. You’re out a little late, aren’t you?”

“I was working on a file and forgot the time.” He nudged his tray onto her small table. “Figured I’d have a snack before I go home.”

“You’re hungry again?” She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped. A flood of heat burned her cheeks. “Please excuse me.”

“Forget it,” he laughed, sitting down beside her. “I admit I eat a lot. High metabolism, I guess.”

“Lucky you.” She watched him munch on his BLT and fries while her brain unraveled in the relative silence of the coffee shop.

“You look tired. Busy night?”

“Very. A couple of cardiac arrests after drug overdoses. We’re monitoring both of them.” Chloe felt that sinking despair grab her insides. “Why do they do it? One of those kids isn’t even sixteen, but her heart is almost ruined from using crack cocaine. It’s such a waste.”

“Crack?” Brendan frowned. “But I thought—hoped—crack was a thing of the past in Colorado Springs.”

“It should be.” Chloe shrugged. “But I don’t suppose a town’s ever rid of it altogether. This past week has been particularly rough. I think we’ve had the most drug cases since I moved here.” She rubbed the knot in the back of her neck. “It kills me to see kids throwing away their futures, damaging their minds and bodies. But to know that someone is profiting from their misery infuriates me even more.”

“Me, too.” Brendan’s face hardened. “You don’t happen to remember the names of the last two victims, do you?”

“You know I can’t release that information. You’ll have to check with the front office until someone tells me differently.” Chloe stretched her calves, welcoming the pull that drew out the tension. “I just hope they wise up.”

“You really take your patients’ problems to heart, don’t you?”

Brendan watched her like a hawk. It was discomfiting to be the subject of such intense scrutiny.

“You make it sound like it’s personal,” he added.

“Because it is! Drugs impact all of us. I hate it that someone is sitting out there waiting for my kid to make a bad decision. I hate it that one simple mistake can make such a difference to an entire life.” She cut off the past, told herself to get over it.

“Sounds like you’ve had some experience with mistakes.” If it hadn’t been before, his focus was now completely on her.

Should she tell him? Chloe couldn’t decide. It was personal, a private trial she’d gone through, and yet it had helped her relate to others.

“I know what it’s like to use pills to live through your days, to cover up the pain and heartache you don’t want to face.” She didn’t look away from his scrutiny. “I know what it’s like to need that pill so much that you feel lost and defenseless without it to block out the hurt. So yeah, you could say I take it personally.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chloe.” His big hand reached out and covered hers, warm and comforting.

“Thanks.” She carefully drew her hand away. “It was hard and it was painful, but at least I got through. Some don’t.”

“That’s true,” he said, somewhat distractedly.

Chloe twisted around. “What are you looking at?”

“Who is that?” Brendan asked, his voice low.

She stared, shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”

“I saw him when I came in. He was leaving then. Seems odd he’d be coming back to the hospital at this hour.”

“Maybe he was called back.” She turned her head to study the man who passed within ten feet of them, his face turned away. “Sometimes a physician will ask the hospital to notify the family if a patient takes a turn for the worse and they feel there’s a need for immediate visitation.” She watched Brendan rub a spot on the back of his neck and wondered why he seemed so interested in this particular man.

“He’s wearing black but he doesn’t look like a man who’s grieving. Look at those boots. They look like combat boots.”

Chloe almost laughed. It was the first time she’d been ignored for a man, and never for a pair of ugly boots, which made it perfectly clear that Brendan Montgomery had absolutely no interest in her. Good.

“I’m going back to work now,” she told him.

“Your break isn’t up yet.” He stared at her with a frown, attention momentarily diverted from the man who now entered an elevator.

“No, it isn’t. But we’re behind. Besides, I want to call Mrs. Mills and make sure everything is all right at home. Good night.” Chloe dumped the things off her tray into the garbage, set the tray on a rolling cart nearby and started toward the elevators, forcing herself not to look back at him.

Agent Brendan Montgomery was a very attractive man, and when he was around her blood pressure soared. But Chloe knew she couldn’t afford the distraction. Men weren’t to be trusted. Hadn’t Steve taught her that lesson the hard way?

All seemed quiet on the floor. Chloe spent a few minutes talking to Mrs. Mills, who was not thrilled by the interruption to her nap.

“Sorry I woke you, Mrs. Mills. I just wanted to check in, make sure all was well. Good night.” Chloe hung up with a grimace. Sometimes she wished she could find someone else to stay with the kids, someone who wasn’t quite so…negative. But sitters weren’t easy at the best of times, and finding one who could stay all night was toughest of all.

“Did you check on the mayor lately?” she asked Theresa, who shook her head “no” and hurried away to answer another monitor’s bleep. “I’ll do it then.”

The mayor’s room was the farthest one away from the station. As Chloe hurried toward it, a noise startled her. The guard wasn’t in his place by the door but flickering shadows told her someone was inside the room.

Some inner caution slowed Chloe. She clamped her lips together before glancing around the corner. A man stood at the side of the bed. He wore scrubs and a surgical mask, which was perfectly normal. Doctors came and went through the mayor’s room, constantly checking on them. But something about this doctor didn’t seem quite right, so she opened her mouth to ask his name. But before any sound could come out, she closed it, her eyes on his feet.

He wore combat boots—just like the ones Brendan had commented on earlier. She could only see the eyes and a tuft of brown hair from under the cap, but Chloe was almost certain it was the man from downstairs, and he was talking to the mayor. Chloe inched around the corner and listened.

“You were warned,” he whispered, his voice carrying clearly to her. He slid a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and inserted it into the mayor’s IV line, his thumb pushing whatever was in the cylinder into the life-giving fluids.

Chloe glanced behind her but her coworker wasn’t to be seen. She’d have to handle this herself and hope the guard would show up soon.

“Hey!” She dashed into the room, knocked the needle away, then hit the IV pump switch marked off, at the same time thrusting her leg out and hitting the intruder with a dropkick. Chloe thought she’d had good pressure but the blow seemed to glance off as the attacker rose in one lithe movement.

The pump stayed silent for a moment then sent up its alarm. She ignored it, backing up as her brain mentally assessed and discarded options.

The man’s face was almost completely hidden. Only the eyes, beady and dark, glared at her. From behind the mask she heard a hissed warning.

“Mind your own business.”

“This patient is my business.” Chloe watched his hand stretch toward her, saw the black spider tattoo on his wrist creep out from the sleeve of the green scrubs. Options—she needed options. “What did you put in there?” she asked, trying to buy time as she inclined her head toward the needle now lying at her feet.

He swung at her. Chloe stepped backward, then realized that had been his intent as he swept up the needle and aimed it toward her. “Why don’t you try it and see?” he said with a sneer.

“I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.” Chloe waited for her opportunity, her eyes never leaving his as he swept the pointed tip in front of her once, twice. On the third sweep she slapped her knee against his wrist and the needle flew across the room and stabbed into the wall. If she could just get in a couple of solid hits, she might floor him long enough to call for help.

Suddenly the wail of the mayor’s heart monitor shattered her concentration. Chloe glanced at the bed. Cardiac arrest!

Looking away had been a mistake. Chloe felt the solid smack against her chest and reeled from the hit, striking her head on the metal bed as she went down. Like a shape-shifter, the room bent double then turned upside down in one moment of excruciating pain. Chloe began to lose her ability to focus, but she kicked one last time and heard a grunt of pain.

“Stay out of my business,” a snarl hissed from behind her. Then he was gone.

She hung on to the bed, forcing herself to slide across the floor until she could reach the mayor’s IV. Every movement was agony, her head screamed for relief, but Chloe forced her body forward in spite of it. As much as possible she intended to prevent one more drop of the stuff from that needle from entering the mayor’s body.

The heart monitor was screaming more loudly than the IV machine. Someone would come soon. She drew herself up long enough to free the IV tubing from the shunt in the mayor’s vein. Using her thumb as pressure, she held on for as long as she could.

Then everything went black.

Even before the elevator doors opened, Brendan heard it. Cardiac arrest. That made three tonight, unless he’d missed something. Chloe was right—the night was busy. He walked toward the nursing station, hoping for her sake that it wasn’t another drug case.

Theresa emerged from one room, saw him and beckoned. “I need help.” She began running.

He needed no second bidding. Brendan followed her toward the end of the hall…toward the mayor’s room. The mayor’s room! Once that thought penetrated, the nerve at the back of his neck went crazy. He glanced around, saw the stairwell door whooshing closed, stopped by the leg of a man in a police uniform. He started for that door, heard a yell.

“Get in here!”

Brendan stepped into Mayor Max’s room, caught his breath at the sight of Chloe slumped against the bed, fingers still wrapped in IV tubing.

“She’s pulled out his IV tube. I’ve got to get it back in so the doctors can use it for a push. Move her.”

Brendan gently eased Chloe’s fingers from the mayor’s arm, carried her to the side of the room. She blinked a couple of times, stared at him.

“IV’s contaminated,” she murmured, then closed her eyes.

“Wait,” he yelled as Theresa struggled to reinsert the tube. “Chloe said it’s been contaminated. Get another bag.”

“I hooked this one up while she was on break. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Theresa ignored him.

Brendan chewed his lip as the crash team came rushing down the hall. Maybe Chloe was confused?

What do I do, Lord?

He glanced around, saw the needle still dangling from the plastered wall and moved to close his hand over the nurse’s.

“Get a fresh bag,” he ordered. “There’s a needle in the wall and I’m betting you didn’t put it there.”

She saw it, blinked, then went racing out of the room for fresh supplies.

“I’d like that empty bag,” he told her when she came back with a fresh bag and tubing. “For testing.”

“The hospital will want it, too,” she warned but handed it over.

Once it was safely tucked into his coat pocket, Brendan gathered up Chloe and carried her out of the crowded room.

“What’s wrong with her?” Dr. Robert Fletcher asked, pausing on his way into the room and motioning the other doctor ahead.

“I’m not sure but I think she was attacked. She came to a minute ago then faded out.” There was a stretcher sitting by the wall and Brendan gently laid Chloe on it, then stood to one side as the doctor did a swift check.

“Skin’s starting to bruise at the back of her neck and she’s got a large contusion on the top of her head. She’s going to have a headache. Vitals seem okay.”

A picture of that hypodermic needle flickered through Brendan’s mind.

“You don’t think she was given something, do you?” he asked.

“Given something? Like what?” Dr. Fletcher checked her pupils. “Everything’s returning to normal. I think she’ll be fine.”

“Can you stay with her a second?” Brendan raced back into the mayor’s room and grabbed one of the plastic gloves that lay on the crash cart. He removed the needle from the wall, checked the vial. Still fluid inside. Good. He grabbed his phone and dialed. “Somebody attacked the mayor. He’s gone into cardiac arrest. They got his nurse, too, but I think she’ll be okay. There was a needle left at the scene. The nurse Tanner came to long enough to tell me the mayor’s IV bag was contaminated. Her getting it undone probably saved his life. The mayor’s guard is down, too. I need some help. Now.”

He listened to his instructions then returned to Chloe.

“She’s coming out of it.” Fletcher checked her pulse once more, nodded, then jerked a thumb toward the mayor’s room. “Mind if I join them? You can yell if you need me.”

“Before you do, check the stairwell. There’s a cop there who might need you.”

“Okay. Sounds like someone wanted to get to Max. It’s a good thing she was working tonight.” Dr. Fletcher measured Chloe’s pulse again while staring at the auburn glory of her hair spilling around her shoulders like a silken shawl. “She’s beautiful. I envy you, Brendan.” He smiled, then moved to assist the injured cop.

Brendan realized he should have made it clear that there was nothing between him and the nurse, but Fletcher was busy in the stairwell so he let it go for now, choosing instead to keep his attention on Chloe, who had begun to utter soft sibilant moans.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Whoever it was is gone.” He repeated the words, squeezing her hand as her irises began to clear and she focused on him.

“The mayor?” She licked her lips, blinked twice.

“They’re working on him now. Your quick thinking probably saved him.”

“The needle. There was a needle.”

“I know. I got it.”

“A man was injecting something into the IV.” She struggled to sit up, grasped his outstretched hand until she got her bearings. “He told me to stay out of his business.”

“This guy spoke to you?” Brendan whipped out a notebook as soon as she released his hand and began scribbling. “What else did he say?”

“That’s it, I think. I hit my head on the bed rail.” She touched the back of her head gingerly. “I shut off the IV pump but when the cardiac machine went off I knew some of what he’d injected must have gone through so I had to get the tube out. After that it’s a blank.”

“The stairwell door was closing when I came,” he told her. She didn’t react. “You didn’t see the guard outside the mayor’s room?” She shook her head. “Can you describe what this guy was wearing?”

Her blue eyes expanded, grew darker. “He had on scrubs and a mask. But it was the boots I noticed. The same ones we saw earlier. Combat boots.”

Like a video, he replayed the scene from earlier, but he couldn’t put a face to the figure he recalled. “What kind of a mask?”

“Surgical. And a cap.” She nodded, winced, her eyelids squeezing before she spoke. “I could really only see his eyes.”

“Okay.” Brendan paused, studied her face. “Anything else?”

“He had a tattoo on his wrist. A black spider.” She rethought it, nodded. “Left wrist. He was talking to the mayor when I found him.”

“Talking to the mayor?” His gut lurched. “Max has been awake?”

“No. I said he was talking to the mayor, not that the mayor was answering him. I should help get him stabilized.” She eased herself off the gurney, smoothed down her clothes then grabbed his arm. “Oh, my. The floor keeps moving.”

“Sit down and wait it out. Dr. Fletcher says you have a large contusion. And you were unconscious for a few minutes.”

“I can feel the bump. But I’ll be fine.” She drew her fingers away from her head, pushed her hair back. “I need an elastic band. I can’t work like this.”

“Your hair looks lovely, but I don’t think you can work at all. You need to rest, let your body recover.” Brendan turned his head as the elevator doors opened. Two of his co-workers burst through the door, followed by a stout man in a three-piece suit who did not look pleased. Some sort of hospital official, Brendan guessed, noting the way the man marched down the hall as if he owned it.

“What’s been going on here, Chloe?” The officious tone smacked of condemnation, his glare suggesting she’d deliberately sabotaged the hospital.

“Someone attacked the mayor.” Brendan didn’t like the looks of this character and figured it was about time he learned the facts. “Mrs. Tanner stopped him and was also attacked.”

“Sylvester Grange, nursing supervisor, meet Brendan Montgomery.” Chloe’s big blue eyes dared Brendan to contradict her. “It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll go home.” Dr. Fletcher emerged from the stairwell, winked at Brendan. “I don’t see any sign of concussion, but clearly Mrs. Tanner is not well, Sylvester. Just in case there are some physical after-effects I think it would be wise for Mrs. Tanner to take the rest of the shift off. After all, the incident occurred on hospital grounds. We don’t want any nasty repercussions, do we?”

“If that’s your recommendation, Doctor. Chloe, you may as well leave.” Grange nodded deferentially at the doctor but dismissed Chloe without a second glance. His gaze scanned the area. “Why is that man sitting on the floor? Who are these other people, Doctor Fletcher? Intensive care is hardly the place for them to visit, especially at this time of night. This floor is supposed to be a secure area. I can’t allow all these people here.”

“FBI, sir.” Brendan stepped forward, flashed his badge. “We’re here to ensure the mayor’s safety. The guard was injured tonight by someone who came into Mayor Vance’s room without authorization and tried to inject him with something. We’re not going to let that happen again. I hope the extra security I’m adding won’t be a problem?” He lifted an eyebrow, hoping Sylvester would be cowed by his tone and let them do their job.

“No problem at all. We welcome any measure that will ensure our mayor’s safety. Although one wonders how the FBI allowed this latest incident.” Mr. Grange gave a simpering smile. “Of course, these matters are not my concern. Running this hospital is. Excuse me?”

He was gone before Brendan could say a word to dispute the hint that the Bureau had been at fault. “What an odious man!”

“Welcome to our world.” Robert Fletcher grinned at them both and helped the guard stand. “Slowly now, man. You’ve been drugged. Just wait here till someone comes to take you downstairs. There are some tests I want to run before I send you home. The mayor’s been stabilized, don’t worry.” He turned, focused on Chloe. “You go home and rest. And if you don’t feel one hundred percent by the next shift, phone in sick. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned, saluted him.

“Finally, some respect.” Chuckling, Doctor Fletcher left.

“Excuse me.” Chloe half turned toward Brendan with her back to the other agent. Her voice dropped, softened. “I need to get my things and get out of here. But I want to thank you for helping me.”

“I don’t think you needed much help. You seemed to handle the bad guy just fine.” He raised one eyebrow, hoping she’d explain.

“I got a couple of kicks in. I’ve been practicing.”

“Karate. I can testify to your capability.” Brendan smiled at the soft rose wash that flooded her face. “You’re okay to drive?”

“I have a headache, but I’ll be fine. Thanks again. Good night.”

“Good night.” He watched her leave, noted the careful look into the elevator before she got in. Chloe wasn’t quite as confident as she pretended.

“You gonna stand there all night or do you want to fill us in on what’s been going on?”

Brendan faced Fergus MacArthur, knowing neither of his co-workers had missed much about his too-obvious reaction to beautiful Chloe Tanner.

“I’m going to tell you everything I know,” he promised. “Which isn’t much.”

But while he recited the night’s events as they waited for another guard, even after he’d sent Fergus MacArthur to the lab with the needle and the drip bag—in fact the whole time he spent replaying what he knew in his mind so he could look for a thread that would lead him somewhere—that throbbing nerve in Brendan’s neck wouldn’t cease its rat-tatting.

The attacker was brash, determined, and he knew his way around. Whoever he was, there was no doubt he would be back to finish the job. Brendan could only hope and pray Chloe would be far away the next time.

If she wasn’t, she’d have to depend on more protection than her martial arts offered.