Jacked (13 page)

I turned to one of the interns loitering nearby. “Call for additional security. Now.”

I pinned the shorter blond male accompanying the cameraman with my angriest glare. Strange, they both looked familiar—especially the short one in the ball cap. And then the shock registered, casting that nervous warmth throughout my skin.

As soon as I saw the face of the patient on the cot, everything dimmed. Firm lips, gorgeous face, incredible eyes staring back at me…

Officer Trent
, I think I breathed, though my mouth surely moved.

“You,” he said, just as breathily. He appeared just as surprised by our unexpected reunion as I was.

“Turn that camera off right now! You cannot be in here,” Carl yelled, trying to bring chaos to order. “Shut it down.”

The fact that Adam had been injured snapped me back into the urgency of the moment. His left hand was bandaged like a catcher’s mitt.

He tried to move but was strapped down to the transport cot. “Christ, Ritchie. We’re in a hospital. Give me a break.”

As soon as we locked gazes again, something inexplicable came over me. It was instant and alarming—a potent mix of protectiveness and familiar ownership.

The blond guy removed one headphone from his ear. “Sorry, Adam. We’re instructed to keep filming. You know it’s in your contract.”

These men were irritating. He’d been hurt and I needed to get his care underway. “He goes into exam room six.” I pointed, needing the EMTs to wheel him away.

Two men dressed identical to Adam joined in the fray with our hospital security, but the camera crew kept on insisting they had the right to keep filming.

I was astonished and angered by their blatant disregard for hospital policy. “You two—what TV station are you with?” I blocked their view of Adam when they ignored my question. “I cannot believe you would have the audacity to film an injured police officer or any patient for that matter in my hospital.”

The cameraman that answered to the name Ritchie took a step back, then returned to squinting his eye in the viewer of his camera. He looked to be in his mid twenties, lanky as hell, unkempt brown hair, wearing skinny jeans and an olive green winter parka.

His partner, the shorter blond guy, moved his headset away from one ear. “We have full clearance to keep filming him,
wherever
he goes.”

“Hey!” Ritchie pulled his face away from the camera. “You’re that woman that we—”

“Ritchie!” Adam bellowed from down the hall, pegging him with an “I’ll kill you if you finish that sentence” glare while being wheeled away.

“Henry says we’re supposed to keep rolling,” the short blond guy said.

“I don’t think so.” The hall was filling with onlookers. I reached for the camera to push it away. “You are violating patient rights.”

I felt his presence right before I felt his hand cross my stomach. One very pissed off cop slid me out of the way.

“Turn that fucking thing off,
now
,” Adam commanded.

Behind them, a huge wall of intimidating black man dressed head to toe in black police attire strolled in. I instantly recognized him too.

“You two assholes are done here.” He palmed both of the camera crew by their shoulders and spun them, hauling them toward the ambulance bay doors.

I stepped up to Adam’s side, knowing I had to calm him down and get him back into his room. Stress was making things worse. “Officer—”

“Detective,” he corrected, pinning me with those fierce eyes again.

“Detective,” I repeated, hoping he’d concentrate on me instead of the craziness. My years of dealing with the anxiety that accompanies medical emergencies kicked in. “Let’s get you squared away.” I hoped the quiver in my throat didn’t come out with my words, as it was hard to hide my nervousness.

Adam sat onto the hospital bed. “Sorry, Doc.”

I doubted Detective Hottie, with his spiky, short brown hair, perfectly aligned jaw, and wide shoulders ever allowed a moment of weakness show through. Still, I had to reassure him. “It’s okay. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Sarah, who, after getting an eyeful of my current patient, volunteered to be my triage nurse. She nudged Sherry out of the way and commandeered her portable computer.

I pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I told them I was fine. It’s just a cut. I don’t need all of this. Some gauze and a few Band-Aids will fix it.”

I snipped through the pressure packing on his hand to reveal one hell of a deep gash. “You’re going to need stitches, Detective. A simple Band-Aid isn’t going to fix this.”

He stared me down for what felt like an eternity. Damn those dark eyes were gorgeous. “That bad, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

He tried to stifle his curse. “Do what you need to do then, Doc.” He rested back on the bed with a bit of defeat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that out there.”

“It’s okay.” I hated that Sarah was monitoring our word exchange as if she were taking notes. “Thanks for making the camera guys go away.”

His eyes fixed on mine. “I owed you that. Look, I’m really sorry about last ni—”

I shook my head for him to stop and almost lunged to cover his mouth. Fortunately, he halted mid sentence.

“Excuse me, sir. We need to get you logged in. Name?” Sarah interrupted, her voice dripping with sweetness. Had I not known she was already married, I would have said she was attempting to flirt with him.

“Adam…” He cleared his throat. When I looked up at his face, he was watching me intently. “Adam Trent.”

Sarah tapped a few keys. “Date of birth?”

My mind registered him saying, “July twenty-fourth.” The year caused me to do quick math.

Damn
…
thirty-two-years-old. Perfect age where he might consider settling down with one woman, if he wasn’t already.

I tossed some of his bloodied wrapping into the biohazard bin.
Why can’t I ever meet guys like this?
There were a few single males floating around the building but the selection of good-looking ones that didn’t have girlfriends
or
boyfriends was very slim. Todd, one of our male nurses, was cute but he was also very gay and the newest selection of interns—well, let’s just say that butterflies failed to fly in their presence. Trying to fish in the hospital pond was a lost cause.

I notice he had a formidable two-inch scar on his forearm. By the looks of it, this wasn’t his first tangle with a sharp object.

“Mr. Trent, it appears you’re a repeat customer,” Sarah stated, confirming my suspicions.

Our eyes locked again as I lifted his wounded left hand, cradling it between my body and arm to reposition him.

He sucked in a quick breath and I immediately readjusted, worried that I’d hurt him somehow.

“Sorry, but I need to see how deep it is.” I tried to be gentle. “I know it hurts.”

Adam shook his head and flexed his fingers, almost brushing over my breast. “Burns a little. It’s like a hell of a paper slice.”

Typical man, trying to be tough
.
“Yeah, I can see that. How’d this happen?”

“Was chasing a runner. Followed him up over a fence and landed on a pile of old junk. Put my hand right through an old window and down over a piece of corrugated sheet metal. Happened so quick.”

I hoped my prodding didn’t hurt. “This is deep but nothing that a few sutures won’t fix. Are you cut or injured anywhere else?”

His hand was caked with dried blood, but I couldn’t help myself. I did a quick assessment of his fingers, searching for the telltale gold band or indentation that alerts all women to keep their distance.

No ring, thank God. Maybe there’s hope for some single woman after all. Doesn’t look like he wears a ring, either. The skin on his finger is smooth, unblemished, but that’s not proof he’s single. Surely he has a wife or at the very least, a steady girlfriend.

He probably has a kid with some girl that lets him visit every other weekend. Some long-legged bimbo he used to date. Yep. A man this fine—someone’s surely claimed their rights to him by now. I bet his ex-wife and current girlfriend fight over him. I could probably beat a few of them if I had a stick. No, a baseball bat. God, listen to me. I’m ready to start beating down other women for this one. What the hell is wrong with me?

He let out a small growl. “No. Only my hand.”

I had to recall my last question.
Oh, any other injuries
…

“And your current address?” Sarah’s glance locked on mine briefly, confirming my guess that she was doing more than entering him into the hospital’s system.

I was shocked to hear him say, “Drexel Hill.”

“Doctor Novak, don’t you live in Drexel Hill, too?” Sarah asked, but the sneaky bitch knew exactly where I lived. So did the wounded Adam Trent.

“Detective Trent,” I started to say.

“Adam,” he corrected me, tilting his head to silently say, “come on—we’ve already met once.”

“Sir, has your family been notified that you’ve been injured?” I asked. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like a foolish ass. Sarah smirked while taking his blood pressure.

Is he staring at my chest?

“There’s no one to notify,” he said when he met my eyes again.

I nodded once, feeling extremely relieved for some reason.

I glanced outside his exam room, wondering where the other officers had wandered off to. “I presume you’ll have someone to drive you home.”

A little smirk warmed his face. “Not sure.” His chin jutted up—so confident, almost challenging me. “You offering to give me a ride?”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. So did mine but for different reasons. He knew I couldn’t drive my car and he knew exactly why that was.

“No… I…”
Shit.

“You what?”

Was he amused, riling me like this? His smile faltered. “Sorry. That was, ah. I suppose your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of you getting teased like that.”

I stood there, completely dumbfounded.

“Oh no, she’s single,” Sarah quickly clarified, tossing a big, fat elephant into the room with a simple flutter of her hand.

Is he grinning at that now? Great.
As much as I’d like to lay someone this gorgeous out on a hospital bed and have the kind of spontaneous, wildly passionate sex you only see in smut movies, even casual flirting like this was breaching patient/doctor ethical code.

I had the overwhelming desire to flee. “I’ll be right back so we can get to stitching you up.”

A warm, meaty hand with very long fingers clasped firmly onto my wrist, halting me from taking another step. “Sorry, Doc. I was just joking, trying to lighten the mood. It’s been a long night. One of my team members is waiting on me.” Damn, those eyes were so repentant, like a young boy caught being naughty. I imagined they worked well on his mother. He waited until he received my unspoken acknowledgement before releasing his hold on me.

I grabbed Sarah’s elbow when we got to the nurse’s station. “What was that?”

“What was what? What are you so mad about?”

I pointed down the hall toward his room. “That, back there. Telling him where I live.” She didn’t know he already knew where I lived but regardless, I didn’t want my busybody friends telling strangers my personal information.

“You’re kidding, right? Have you not noticed the way he’s been staring at you? He’s been eyeballing you like a hungry lion since you got in his line of sight.”

A split second evaluation of her observation led me to believe she was cracked in the head. “He has not.”

She laughed at me. “He sure as hell has. You may not have noticed but I sure did. Hungry. Lion. He licked his lips every time he looked at you.” She growled for emphasis. “I think he likes you.”

“Shh. He does not. And stop smiling at me like that. Do you know how much trouble I can get into here, Sarah? Do you?”

She shrugged, peering past me toward his exam room. “He looks worth the trouble, Erin. Did you see those biceps? And those tribal tattoos? Damn. That extra large cuff barely fit around him.”

His build was hard to miss. Intricate black ink tattoos, which resembled bands of braided rope, peeked out underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. They wrapped around the thickest part of both of his arms, stopping at points at his elbows, adding to the whole sexy package.

“Yes, I noticed, all right? I’m not blind. Shoot.” This was so dangerous, breaking so many ethical protocols.

“Why are you so upset? And what was up with that camera crew? That was weird. Why the heck were they filming him?”

I finished my notation in his chart and curled a stray hair back over my ear, knowing he was being filmed earlier in the day when we met, too. “I have no idea. Maybe cops are tired of getting sued or something.”

My dear friend, Jen, rushed over to us, all flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Did you see the gorgeous cop in room six? He looks so familiar.”

My friends were incorrigible. “You ran all the way up here from the pharmacy to look at a patient?”

“He’s Erin’s,” Sarah said, mirroring Jen’s enthusiasm.

Jen fanned herself with some paperwork, tugging at the neckline of her scrub top. “I was called on a code. Dayum. You are so lucky. Is he single?”

Sarah draped her stethoscope around her neck. “He isn’t wearing a ring.”

Jen glanced back toward his room, her long black ponytail swished over her shoulder. “Oh, if I wasn’t already married I’d be all over that. Wonder if Josh would let me date?”

Sarah nudged her elbow into Jen and then rubbed her baby belly. “I’m thinking the same thing, although he might not go for an instant family.”

So much for professionalism
. They were salivating over an injured patient. “Geez. Do you two even hear yourselves?”

Sherry bounced in between us, springing around just like Tigger. “Heard you have the gorgeous cop patient in six. I just walked past there to check him out. Did you see his arms? Man he’s built. I bet he has a twelve pack going on.” She ran her hand around her own stomach. “You need to cut his shirt off. I want to do a tequila shot off those abs.”

Jen laughed. “And what? Break your tequila shot virginity?”

Sherry mockingly gaped at her. “For your information I am no longer a tequila shot virgin. Took care of that in Orlando just this past summer, don’t you remember? Besides, guys who look like that are the very reason body shots were invented.”