Dead on Arrival (14 page)

Sitting in an old, ripped hunter green stuffed chair was Slick—whose face was a metallic shade of silver. The Tin Man came to mind—only Slick wasn't in the best of health.

“Shit,” ER Dano said. “He been huffing?” he asked Chloe who nodded as if to say, of course, what else?

Buzz opened the bag and started to take out equipment. I helped with whatever Dano told us to do, while he called into St. Greg's ER.

Slick's eyes were red with a dazed look in the darkness. He started to mumble but sounded very drunk; although I'm sure the inhaling of metallic paint was the cause, as Dano found the can next to Slick's leg and shoved it into the ambulance bag.

Chloe stood very still next to Slick, and I think I saw a tear sneak out. She tried to remain stoic, but then she started to lose it. When she broke down, Slick's eyes flickered, and his arm swung out, landing smack dab in ER Dano's face—and then Slick kept punching.

ER fell backwards with a curse and then a smash when his head hit the leg of an end table—and he remained motionless on the torn, stained, braided rug.

“No!” I shouted while Buzz tried to hold Slick back. Apparently huffers could become very violent as evidenced by his flailing arms, cuffed fists, and smacks and jabs at everyone.

“Ouch!” I yelled when Slick hit me in the back of the head when I bent to check out ER Dano. I turned around and leaned toward him, and I swear Stella Sokol's voice came out of my mouth with, “Do that again, and I'll clock you. Stop it now!” Not the exact words she'd use, but my tone was right on the money.

Despite the inhalant causing Slick's actions, he slowed, settled back and remained still—but only for a few seconds.

Suddenly he was up and swinging. Chloe tried to bob and weave (looking very used to having to do that), and before I knew it, Buzz tackled Slick to the ground.

I'm not sure what shocked me more, Slick being out of control, or Buzz Lightyear's strength! The quiet, accident prone EMT slammed a fist into Slick's shoulder, which had him scream out in pain. It worked as Buzz was able to restrain him long enough for me to call the police on Dano's phone.

Before they got there, Slick calmed down enough to remain still under Buzz's weight.

“Stick an IV in his arm,” I ordered to Buzz while I bent down to ER Dano's shoulder once again and called dispatch on his radio.

Since Slick looked more annoyed than about to kick the bucket, I turned my full attention to ER Dano who had barely stirred. First I checked my ABCs, and when I tilted his forehead back, I found his airway patent. Then I held my hand over his nose to feel the warm breaths to make sure he was breathing all right, and lastly I noted his color—a bit pale but not cyanotic and he wasn't coughing.

I grabbed the ambulance bag and took out a sterile gauze, which I applied to the gash on the back of his head. Despite the numerous stains on the rug, I knew the bright red spot behind Dano's head was from him. I reminded myself how head wounds bled a lot and looked worse than they sometimes were.

Soon the cops arrived and not too soon since Slick once again became combative as Buzz tried to start the IV. Since he had no luck, and I wasn't surprised, I had to do it for him. When I looked at the silver face of Slick and then at Dano, I wanted to shove the needle…but I didn't. With the IV running, I told Buzz to stay near the jerk and sat by Dano's side.

He still didn't open his eyes, so I stuck an IV in his arm too. He'd kill me if he woke up then.

It seemed like hours before we had backup help—although it had to be only a few minutes. Every ambulance at TLC would rush to the aid of the craggy, negative ER Dano—I just knew it.

After what seemed like only minutes, Jennifer, one of the EMT girls, and Jagger, thank goodness, appeared at the door with a stretcher.

Dano had started to stir. His eyes opened, and he looked at me. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I…you…nothing! Huffer Slick smacked you, and you hit your head.”

He tried to turn but groaned at the movement.

“Stay still,” I said. “They've got Slick down in the ambulance. You're next.”

“Like hell.” He tried to get up, but I firmly pushed him down. He looked at the tubing coming out of his arm. “What the…this had to be your idea, Nightingale.” He tried to get up again.

“Like hell you are getting up,” I said. “And by the way, I enjoyed every minute of sticking you with the IV needle. I was going to use the largest bore needle, but Buzz wouldn't let me.”

He growled at me and tried to get up once more, but I was relentless in my effort, and ER Dano didn't stand a chance. “You think you are fine?” I asked.

He glared at me—a not too pleasant glare in fact. “Absolutely.”

“Then how is it that a girl like me can hold you down?”

“Shit,” he muttered just as Jagger and Buzz came in the room with another stretcher. Chloe had stayed by Slick's side after numerous apologies to us all for what Silver-Streak had done to ER Dano.

I had to shake my head and say a little prayer for the two sad young people whose lives were obviously owned by inhalants, pot, and probably alcohol. What a waste.

Dano continued to sputter and curse until the guys had him on the stairway—with a few close calls of him nearly sliding feet to head with Jagger. When they got to the bottom and had to make a narrow turn, I heard a smack and turned around.

Buzz Lightyear lay sprawled out on the landing.

“Oh, Lord!” I yelled, but before I could get past Jagger to Buzz, he was up and grabbing the stretcher, while Dano muttered and sputtered curses.

Buzz recovered so quickly I shook my head at the thought that these things always happened to the poor kid. He shook his head a few times as if that would help take away any pain.

“You all right, hon?” I asked.

“Yes, Ms. Pauline. I'm fine.”

Dano turned around. “You look like shit. You should be on this ironing board instead of me.” He shut his eyes and said, “Get me the hell out of here before one of us gets killed.”

Once he was safely down the stairs and then tucked into the ambulance, Dano looked at me, “Get in four, five, six with your patient, Nightingale.”

I took his hand and held it, all the while sneaking a touch at his pulse. “There's been a change of assignments. Jennifer's crew took Slick so we could transport you.”

Dano looked at me.

I nodded. “Yep, Buzz too. He didn't want to leave you. Isn't that sweet?” As soon as the words came out and before I even looked at ER Dano, I knew I should have chosen more wisely.

“F'n sweet,” he said. “All I need is a good stiff drink to get rid of this headache.”

“And about seven stitches,” I added as we pulled into the ER of St. Gregory's Hospital.

Suddenly I felt something on my hand and looked to see ER Dano holding it!

He winked despite what pain it must have caused as evidenced by a following wince. “Then I'm glad you'll be with me, Nightingale.”

And my heart fluttered.

Wow.

“Well, they didn't get to fix the giant hole in your head, but they did a decent job with the small gash,” I said to ER Dano as we walked out of the Emergency Room.

He grunted.

Buzz was behind the wheel of #456, and I know ER Dano would not want any other transportation back to TLC. How fitting.

We climbed into the back and sat on the bench. Buzz turned around and gave ER a thumbs up then pulled slowly out of the driveway.

I felt Dano's knees bump against mine as the ambulance took several turns. Yum. I shouldn't be ogling an injured guy like this, but damn, I felt something. ER Dano had made a darn lousy first impression—and I am sure an impression that he thrived upon—but in the end, a different guy came through—and I liked him!

A sobering thought had me pause. Hopefully he wasn't involved in the fraud or…the stabbings, and, damn, but I had a gut feeling that the two crimes were related.

In my heart I didn't believe it was true about Dano, so I had to trust my instincts yet again.

And this one was the clincher: Jagger wasn't keeping me away from him. If anyone suspected ER Dano of anything nefarious, Jagger would know, and I sure wouldn't be sitting here!

When the ambulance stopped, before I could say a word, the backdoor flung open. Buzz stood there as if he'd just stepped out of a brand new toy box. I swear he held his shoulders straighter in that crisp uniform, legs apart as if at attention, and a serious look on his face as he was made out of plastic.

“Need any help?” he asked Dano, who looked at him and groaned. “Okay, sir. I'll be here if you need me.”

I had to smile to myself as Dano stepped to the side then turned and hurried to open the door. I leaned toward Dano and said, “He was only trying to help. Cut him some slack.”

ER looked back at me. “Cutting a kid like that slack is not going to get him skilled in this profession, Nightingale. He has to toughen up. One time he was about to zap a patient with the cardiac defibrillator, and I had to point out to him that she was still holding onto his leg. Does the term ‘clear' mean anything to you?”

I wanted to say, “But he's such a sweetie,” but instead realized Dano was correct. Buzz obviously had to toughen up. I remembered the look on his face when he'd seen Pansy.

My thoughts seemed negative, and I tried not to let it, but I wondered how long Jeremy would last as an EMT at TLC.

Since our duty day was nearly over, I sat back on the couch in the lounge and sipped my tea while watching everyone fawn over ER Dano—from a distance. Obviously they were not stupid people. And I watched him wince a few times, and I guessed this time it wasn't from pain.

He turned and looked at me. “What the hell are you smiling about, Nightingale?”

I hadn't realized I was. “Hm? Oh, nothing.”

He eased away from Jennifer and Lilla and straddled a chair from the table in front of the couch. “Yeah, right. You're loving this.”

This time I chuckled. “Okay. You got me.”

He kicked my foot with his. Just a gentle touch. A sensual touch even through my shoe. Wow.

It wasn't easy to rein my thoughts back to the lounge and work with him so near. I sighed.

He looked at me.

Damn. He knew. He knew that he was causing a reaction—the bad boy! And the worst part was I was losing control of stopping any reactions!

Buzz came over to ER Dano with a cup of black coffee. “Here ya go. How you feeling?”

Whoops. I though Dano was going to fling the mug at the poor kid. But he did take it and mumble something. I was going with “thanks.”

Dano leaned back and took a few sips then shut his eyes.

Dear Buzz could not take a hint
, I thought as I bit my tongue and readied to save the guy.

“So you know the ER doc, Dr. Richard Pringle, does not want you alone tonight. He said you need someone to check up on you.” Buzz cleared his throat. “Someone has to keep waking you up to make sure you don't have a head injury.”

Oh, boy. I started to send mental notes to Buzz to shut up and even used my facial expressions to capture his attention before he was wearing Dano's now cooled coffee, but darling Buzz kept up. Being zapped by a defibrillator would be nothing compared to what Dano might do.

“So I will volunteer. I can bunk at your place, Boss, and wake you up every hour or so. You know. Ask you what day it is. Who the president is—”

Before Buzz could finish rambling on and on, ER Dano was up and out of his seat, had Buzz's unwrinkled tie in his hand, and I think was about to yank. But Dano's quick movement had him stagger, let go, and drop back to his seat with a thud and a curse that would make a longshoreman blush.

The room hushed.

Buzz swallowed and paled at the same time.

And I sat motionless waiting for my mind to catch up to the scene that had just played out in front of me.

Sheepishly and yes, foolishly, Buzz said, “Someone has to be there for you, Dan.”

Yikes! I started to get up to run interference should Dano attempt another attack, but he merely looked at Buzz and said, “
She's
doing it.”

I looked around the room to see who'd gotten the short straw and was going to have to stay the night at ER Dano's place and put her life into his hands by waking
him
up. Ready to offer moral support and sympathy, I noticed everyone in the room, including ER Dano staring at…
me
.

Oh…my…God.

My attempts to get out of the job of “nursing” ER Dano had failed miserably, and here I sat in my car, on my way to his place with a stop off at mine for some clothes, makeup, and to check my phone recorder (no more riddled threats for days now), with him sitting next to me since he couldn't drive.

Not that I needed much in the line of clothes or makeup as Dano was not one to be impressed, but I was one to feel more comfortable, and any reason to get out of my scrubs was a good one.

I pulled into my assigned space, got out, and said I'd be right back. Before I made it up the stairs, he was right behind me.

“I need a drink,” he said. “Damn shit they gave me in the ER made me thirsty.”

I paused to try and choose the right words then thought, oh hell. “You shouldn't be drinking with a head injury. You know that.”

He looked at me and kind of grinned.

Phew.

“Nightingale, I'm talking water here, and don't try to nurse me. The last woman that attempted ended up…” He grinned again.

My heart did a tiny dance, and I smiled, turned, and opened the door to Spanky running up to me and looking behind me. I think the little creature was looking for Jagger! But the dog settled for ER Dano, who growled a bit that he wasn't a pet lover, and the next thing I knew, he was sitting on the couch, ice water in hand, and Spanky sitting on a pillow nearby. Dano did not, however, pet him, but just sitting there gave him a more human quality.

And a rather tasty one at that!

I looked at the pile of clothing on my floor and felt like a teenager. Then again, what I wore was important tonight because I didn't want to look too sexy—since I was only there as a friend and nurse. And I didn't want to look not sexy because, well, I was going to be there—and I was a red-blooded thirty-something woman!

After much contemplation and trying on things I hadn't worn in a while and wishing my roomies were home for their expert opinions, I settled on jeans and an aqua long sleeve top and stuck some toiletries into my makeup bag. Wearing my slip-ons, I decided they'd be the most like slippers, and the jeans weren't too tight so I could sleep in them.

Because no way was I parading around ER Dano's place in my nightie.

ER Dano's place?

I flopped onto the end of the bed and in my wildest imagination could not think of what it would look like. That'd be one step below figuring out what Jagger's place looked like. That was if Jagger really lived someplace and not just in his SUV.

My thoughts were that Dano's would be dark, rather scary, chrome, glass, and…male.

Since I had a “job” to do, I pushed any Jagger thoughts out of my head, took my scrubs and shoes for tomorrow, and stuck it all into my gym bag. My suitcase looked too girly. Too purple. I couldn't do purple girly in front of such a guy like Dano.

Brown paper bag might do it though.

When I walked down the stairs, Spanky was not on his pillow any longer. And he wasn't on Dano's lap as I'd expected. Evidently Jagger was the only one Spanky had taken a liking to other than myself, Goldie, or Miles.

“All set?” I asked.

“Um.” Dano stood, wobbled a bit, and steadied himself on the couch's arm. “Hold on.”

“Wha—”

He was out the door and into the kitchen before I could finish. “What the heck?” I muttered and followed.

There, near the backdoor, was Spanky eating out of his dog food dish. But not his dried food. Nope. Dano had raided our refrigerator and helped himself to morsels of leftovers that he'd given to the dog.

After my attack of muteness left, I said, “He has to watch his weight. If he gets another pound heavier, his little kneecap goes out of joint.”

Dano looked at me then over to Spanky. “He needed a treat. That's about as low-cal and wholesome as you can get.” With that he turned and walked out the door.

Spanky gave me a quick look as if agreeing with Dano.

“Shut up,” I said to him, gave him a pat on the head, looked to see no phone messages, and left. By the time I got out to my car, Dano was in the passenger seat, eyes shut, and occasionally wincing.

The tough guy was in pain, and despite how he felt, he had taken care of an eight-pound dog.