Intensive Care Crisis

At least he was home, finally, with his own bed and his own television and utter privacy.

Fitting another puzzle piece in place, he flexed the fingers of his injured hand and ground his teeth together. Two days after his procedure, the pain was dull and throbbing. Sinking against the soft leather chair, he stared at the calendar pinned to the corkboard above his desk. The serene beach photograph of Oahu’s Lanikai Beach didn’t distract him from the red lines slashing out every February day he’d missed work. Eight days gone. The entire month of January had been a wash.

Rolling the chair back, he stood and stalked to the apartment’s compact kitchen and perused the fridge’s meager contents. His appetite hadn’t returned, and he wasn’t interested in the assorted yogurts or chicken salad of indeterminable dates.

The doorbell chimed. Probably one of his buddies coming to cheer him up. That seemed to be the goal these days—distract Julian from the accident, remind him that he shouldn’t feel guilty. His frustration building, he swung the door open and promptly forgot the words he’d been formulating.

“You.” He stared at the fresh-faced brunette in his doorway. “You were at the hospital. You were my nurse.”

She wiped her palms on the outside of her blue scrubs. “I’m Audrey Harris. I’m—”

“Gunny’s daughter.”

Julian used the door to support his weight, confusion setting in. Hers was the face dominating his memories. In fact, the expression of deep disquiet she wore now matched what he remembered of her. But was it real? Because it wasn’t uncommon for him to see her around the complex. He’d been introduced to her while in a hospital bed, the first time he’d been admitted. His superior, Gunnery Sergeant Trent Harris, was infinitely proud of his only child. Protective, too. While Harris had been happy to introduce her to one of his marines, there was no question he expected Julian to keep his distance.

“You remember me?” Edging closer to the door frame to let a young mom with a baby on her hip pass, Audrey’s big blue eyes clouded. “I didn’t think you would.”

He noted how expressive her eyes were, how clear and unguarded. In fact, her entire face was a billboard advertisement for her feelings. Currently, worry creased her forehead and weighted her full, pink lips into a frown.

“Did Gunny send you?”

“No. I came to your hospital room thinking you might like a break from cafeteria food.” She lifted a brown paper bag. “I didn’t know you’d been discharged this afternoon.”

“What is that?”

“Soup. Two kinds, since I don’t know your preferences.”

“You brought me soup.”

Why would she do that? He was technically a stranger. Unless... Was her conscience bothering her? Was she the reason he’d coded?

“Your choice of chicken noodle or vegetable beef.”

He didn’t feel like company, but his mom had preached the importance of good manners. Besides, he might be able to pry some answers from Audrey Harris.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

As she stepped past him, her sweet scent struck him as both exotic and familiar, not quite citrusy yet not floral, either. He couldn’t place it and ceased trying. The pleasure he used to find in sorting out details and mulling over conundrums eluded him now.

The nurse stopped beside his desk. She was tall and svelte. He’d seen her jogging in the park and participating in their complex’s organized sports.

Her wide gaze soaked in the leather furniture, big-screen television, lava lamp and hermit crab tank. She zeroed in on the map of his home state framed above the couch.

“You’re from Hawaii?”

He closed the door and stifled a sigh. He’d struggled to make small talk with friends recently, much less strangers. “Born in New York. My father’s Chinese. Mom’s American. We moved to Oahu when I was eight.”

“Must’ve been wonderful to grow up in paradise.”

“It has its perks.” There were downsides, too, like any other place. Expensive rent. Traffic jams.

She studied the surfboard propped in the corner.

“You surf?” he asked, not really interested.

“I never learned. I preferred to play beach volleyball.”

“There are plenty of people willing to teach you.” At the sudden question in her eyes, he added, “For a fee. Ask the local shops.”

“Maybe,” she said, noncommittal.

Julian crossed to her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Her thick waves were restrained by an elastic band. He had the inane thought that he’d never seen her hair down and wondered how long it was.

She thrust the sack at him. “I, um, hope you like at least one of them.”

He accepted the offering, set it on the counter and leaned against a bar stool. “Mahalo.”

“How’s your pain level?” She gestured to the gauze encasing his arm and wrist. “Are you taking the prescribed antibiotics?”

“It’s tolerable. And yes, Nurse Harris, I’m following orders. You could say I’ve grown accustomed to that.”

“Right.” Her gaze swept the length of him, taking in his marine-issued green T-shirt, black pants and socks. This wasn’t a flirtatious or interested inspection. Audrey Harris was worried about him. Or worried about her job?

“You were there when I went into cardiac arrest, weren’t you?”

Startled by the abrupt question, she sagged against his desk, her hip perilously close to the puzzle he’d been laboring over for weeks.

“What happened in the recovery room, Audrey?” he asked. “Why is it that, more than thirty-six hours after I was supposed to have had a routine procedure and discharge, I still don’t have answers?”

“I can’t say,” she whispered.

He resisted the urge to use his physical stature to intimidate her. His goal wasn’t to frighten her. “Did you make a mistake?” He kept his tone casual. “Did you give me the wrong medicine?”

There. A telltale flicker of guilt. “No.”

Unable to contain his impatience, he straightened and took a single step toward her. “I almost died thanks to hospital error. I deserve to know the truth.”

“It wasn’t hospital error,” she blurted, popping up from the desk.

“Oh?”

“Someone masquerading as hospital staff entered recovery and administered a lethal dose of epinephrine.”

“What?”

“We don’t know his identity. The police weren’t able to get fingerprints off the syringe. They’re combing through security footage, but there are many areas of the building that aren’t covered.” Her dark brows snapped together. “I’m sorry, Julian.”

Vague memories of a man wearing a surgical mask emerged. He hadn’t spoken, but the intent in his eyes had unsettled Julian. He’d worn latex gloves and had a short ponytail.

“I saw him.”

“You did? What does he look like? If you can give a description—”

“His face was obscured. The curtain was drawn and the light behind my bed turned off.”

“I turned it off so you could rest,” she admitted, biting her lip.

He paced to the window. There wasn’t much activity in the parking lot below or the public park bordering their Jacksonville complex. This was the dinner hour, when people would be sharing meals with their families. He ignored the pang of loneliness. What right did he have to feel lonely? His team members, his brothers—Paulson, Akins, Rossello and Cook—didn’t have the luxury.

“I don’t have enemies.” His adversaries inhabited foreign soil. They didn’t know him by name. They only knew his organization—United States Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance. “This can’t be connected to me.”

“I should go. I’ve already said too much.”

Her shoulders were hunched and her mouth pinched. She was hiding something. Blocking her exit, he said, “Where were you when the intruder got to me?”

The color drained from her face. “I had another patient. She was ill. I stepped out to get her a cup of ice.” Her lashes swept down. “When I returned, I saw the curtain drawn. I saw his outline. I tried to stop him and would’ve gone after him, but you’d gone into V-tach. I had to begin CPR at once—”

“You saved my life?” Julian attempted to picture her springing into heroine mode. She hadn’t caused his brush with death. She’d kept him from succumbing to it.

“I did what I was trained to do.”

He recognized the refusal to take credit. Audrey Harris, RN, didn’t view her job as extraordinary. Sometimes force-recon marines got their names in the paper or received medals from government officials. Like Audrey, Julian had been trained for specific tasks and taught to react to emergencies. He didn’t think of himself as special because of it.

Her phone beeped. She took it from her pocket and, reading the screen, frowned. “I have to go.”

“I have more questions.”

“I’m in apartment 478, on the other side of the elevators and vending machines. If you have any questions regarding your recovery, come by anytime.”

The emergence of stubborn resolve surprised him. He hadn’t seen past the very real apprehension cloaking her. But she was the daughter of a career marine. What had he expected? A wilting flower?

Deliberately stepping around him, she reached for the doorknob.

“You should know I don’t give up easily,” he said.

Audrey paused. “Get some rest, Sergeant Tan.”

In other words, focus on complete healing instead of pursuing this mystery.

When she’d left, he returned to his puzzle but had trouble concentrating. Audrey knew more than she was willing to share. Was she worried about compromising her position at the hospital? Or was it something far more serious?

Either way, he was determined to discover the truth.

THREE

Audrey tugged at the wet material clinging to her skin and grimaced. Her foot had gotten caught on the hospital bed wheel, and she’d stumbled, spilling apple juice down her front. If it had been water, she would’ve let it air-dry. But the juice would start to smell foul. And it was sticky.

She headed for the door. “I’m going to get a new set of scrubs from supply.”

Veronica, who’d hovered like a thundercloud since the incident, looked up from her handheld device. Her garish red lips formed a disgruntled slash. “Hurry up.” She tilted her head at the unoccupied beds. “Our ten o’clock knee replacement is almost done.”

In the hallway, she removed her cap and tucked it in her pocket. She readjusted the band holding her hair in place as she navigated the brightly lit hall. A security guard passed and nodded in greeting. There hadn’t been any more problems with her patients, for which she was grateful. Almost losing Julian had rattled her. He didn’t play a role in her life, but there was something about the stoic marine that touched a chord inside. Maybe it was the fact he’d ignored his own safety to pull the others out of that wrecked helicopter.

His striking looks had nothing to do with it, she reassured herself. Neither did his brooding demeanor or the loneliness and grief he tried to hide from the world.

Pushing thoughts of the sergeant from her mind, she left the surgical unit, passed through the central lobby area and entered a stairwell that would take her down to the basement level. Their unit’s supply room had run out of space months ago. Until they could rearrange stock or create more storage, overflow was located in a secondary area that didn’t see much traffic.

Muted orange-yellow light spilled down the concrete stairs, drawing attention to gouges in the cement walls and the stair rail’s peeling paint. At the bottom, she shouldered open the heavy door. A vinegary odor emanating from the basement labs greeted her in the narrow hallway. She didn’t pass a single person as she followed the worn, cracked tiles to the room at the end. Inside, she flipped the switch. Only about half of the overhead lights flickered on, leaving much of the high shelving systems in shadow.

“Great,” she muttered. With no windows to admit natural light, it was going to take time to dig through the scrubs to find her size.

She wove through the network of short aisles to reach the rear wall. Rounding the last section, Audrey nearly jumped out of her skin when a loud crash clattered right behind her. Her hand pressed to her thrumming heart, she pivoted and saw that her foot had dislodged a mop propped against the wall. Crouching down, she grabbed the wooden handle off the hard tiles and set it right again.

Another sound reached her, then...the grinding of sand beneath a rubber shoe sole.

The hair on her arms stood at attention. Audrey did a complete turn in the tight passage, between wooden shelves and a painted block wall.

“Hello?”

The thought of the person who’d invaded the recovery room flashed in her mind. Had the thief decided his current methods weren’t working? After all, she hadn’t quit. Hadn’t been fired. Hadn’t remained silent.

Had he switched targets?

Audrey remained frozen for long minutes, her ears straining for out-of-place clues that she wasn’t alone. There was nothing. Hurrying to the stacks, she sorted through shirts and pants for her size, too distracted to worry about tidying up after herself.

“There. Done.”

A presence registered behind her before she could turn around to leave. Measured breathing. The rustle of clothing.

Adrenaline charged through her system too late. Something hard and unyielding came up and over her head and pressed against her throat, cutting off her air supply. Silencing her.

The scrubs slipped from her fingers. Reaching up, she gripped the stick. Can’t breathe.

She couldn’t dislodge it. He was immovable, her captor, his arms and chest forming a vise around her.

Dots danced in her vision. She struggled. Writhed. Kicked. Her lungs stretched to the bursting point.

Audrey reached up to claw at his face. If she could gouge his eyes—

He increased the pressure. Pain was a scream lodged in her throat.

As consciousness ebbed, thoughts of her dad filled her with sadness. The loss of Audrey’s mother had almost destroyed him. What would burying his only child do?

Her body was growing limp. She was out of time.

A tear dripped down her cheek.

Shouts pierced the black cloud. Suddenly, the arms around her went slack. He let the mop fall and spun away from her.

Audrey swayed and fell to her knees. A scuffle ensued between her attacker and would-be rescuer. In the murky light, she recognized the stark white dressing on the second man’s arm.

“Julian,” she gasped.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be confronting an attacker in his condition, most likely the same man who tried to kill him mere days ago.

Julian blocked the other man’s fist with his good arm, and then used his leg to land a forceful kick to his opponent’s gut. When the man’s body glanced off the shelf, Julian tackled him. The pair hit the floor in a blur of blows and deflections, their grunts loud in her ears.

Her attacker was clad in black. A ski mask obscured his face. His greater bulk made him a fearsome foe. However, he was less agile than the marine. Julian quickly gained control of the situation. He pinned the man on his stomach and wedged his knee against his spine.

After removing a pistol tucked beneath the man’s suitcoat, he cast a searching glance in her direction. “You okay?”

Audrey belatedly realized she was still on the floor. She pushed to her feet and prayed her legs would hold her.

“I’m good.” Her throat ached, and her head throbbed with the stirrings of a headache, but she was alive. Thanks to him.

Her relief was short-lived. In a burst of energy, her attacker leveraged himself up, slamming his head into Julian’s. His beefy arm swung wildly and connected with Julian’s cheek. The double blows dazed him long enough for the masked man to get up and flee.

* * *

Julian’s gaze kept returning to the angry welts that marred Audrey’s delicate skin. He didn’t want to contemplate the possible outcome of this morning’s attack if he hadn’t come for a post-op checkup and spotted her passing the gift shop. He hadn’t planned to pester her with his questions, since she was on duty. But then he’d seen the goon in a dress suit enter the stairwell, and he’d decided to follow his instincts. The goon hadn’t been wearing the ski mask in the general area of the hospital, but Julian hadn’t gotten a clear view of his face.

He eased the tissue from his cheek and tossed it in the bin. The cut wasn’t deep. Still, it irked him. Weeks of desk duty had made him soft. If this had happened before January, he’d have subdued that guy and not suffered a single bruise. He wouldn’t have let himself be distracted by a pretty woman, either.

Julian inwardly cringed at his stupidity. The guys would have a hearty laugh over this one—

No, they wouldn’t. Because they were dead. Paulson, Akins, Rossello, Cook. Upstanding, honorable men. The best of the best.

Suppressing a tide of grief, he refocused on Audrey. Instantly, he knew she needed a break from the repetitive—and at this stage, pointless—questions.

Pushing off the wall, he stalked to where she perched on the edge of a hard, plastic seat. Her head was bowed.

“We’re done here,” Julian stated.

Both Audrey and the security member gaped at him.

“We need more information—”

“No, you don’t. There’s nothing more to tell.” Worried about her enlarged pupils and ashen complexion, he held out his hand. “Come with me, Audrey.”

Placing her trembling hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out of the office. He ushered her to the nearest exit, which emptied into a courtyard with massive plant pots and a koi pond in one corner. The early morning air had a crisp bite to it. Good, because she needed to cool off physically and emotionally.

She sat on the bench he indicated and stared at nothing. Julian crouched in front of her.

He touched her knee. “Can I get you a soda? Coffee?”

Clasping her hands tightly in lap, she shook her head. The elastic band holding her hair was about to slip free.

“You, um—” He leaned forward and gingerly removed the blue band, registering the sensation of her silky hair against his skin. Her alluring, summery scent washed over him. Again, he had a strong recollection of something tied to his childhood. “Here you go.”

She closed her hand over the band. Her shiny tresses spilled past her shoulders, tumbling waves of rich sable.

“What about a cherry slushy?” he said. “The cafeteria might have one.”

Her lips parted. “How do you know about that?”

“Don’t freak out. I’ve shared a few elevator rides with you. More often than not, you have a slushy from the gas station, and cherry has a distinctive color.”

When she continued to stare at him with that arrested expression, he moved to sit beside her. “Look, I’m trained to notice details. In some instances, it can lead to capturing a terrorist or preventing an attack. In others, it means I know what my neighbors like to drink after a long shift. That’s not a habit I can turn off when I’m out of uniform.”

Sighing, she swept her hair behind her shoulder. “I have a weakness for cherry-flavored Jolly Ranchers, too.”

He felt a smile forming. “Good to know.”

She studied his cheek before cutting a glance at his arm. “Please tell me you didn’t reinjure your arm.”

“I didn’t reinjure my arm.”

Her eyes darkened. “You saved me.”

“I was in the right place at the right time.”

“I thank God for it.”

“What’s going on, Audrey?”

She bit her lip and shrugged. He was tempted to walk away. He’d suffered no lasting effects from his ordeal, and Audrey Harris was none of his concern. The one thing stopping him from escorting her back to security was the thought of his younger sisters. If any one of them was facing a threat and he wasn’t around to help, he’d want someone to step up to the plate.

Plus, she’d saved his life. So what if he’d done the same for her? He didn’t believe in calling things even. He owed her a debt of gratitude that couldn’t be repaid.

He tried again. “You can’t tell me these attacks aren’t connected.”

Indecision played out across her face. Her knuckles went white.

“I couldn’t help my team,” he said quietly. “But maybe I can help you.”

Her surprise mirrored his own. Why had he said that? He didn’t like thinking about what had happened, much less put it into words.

“There’s a thief in the hospital,” she said in a rush. “Someone’s been taking partially used ampules of narcotics to feed their addiction. They might also be watering down patient doses and taking the rest for themselves. I’m not sure.”

Actions with serious, perhaps even fatal, consequences. “You told your supervisor?”

“And some of my coworkers. Soon after, there were issues with my patients. Nothing life-threatening until you.” Her expression turned bleak. “This person must have a terrible addiction to feed.”

Julian sagged against the bench. The average drug user wouldn’t go to such extreme lengths to quell an investigation. It seemed to him that Audrey had gotten herself into something far more sinister. But what?

“Does your father know?”

She bolted to her feet and stared down at him. “He knows nothing, and that’s the way it stays.”

“I’ve served under him for more than a year. Gunny is a private man, but I have learned several things. Laziness and carelessness are his top pet peeves. He hates surprises. Can’t function on less than four cups of coffee a day, and he believes his only daughter hung the moon.”

“If my dad found out, he’d try to force me to quit. He still sees me as a helpless little girl.” Worry pinched her mouth. “Please don’t tell him.”

“You’re putting me in an untenable position. You know that, right?”

“I can handle this on my own.”

“Really?” He stood up. This close, he could see the contrast between her irises’ navy outer ring and the azure blue interior. Like the varying shades of the Pacific surrounding his island home. “What’s your plan?”

She licked her lips. “First off, I won’t be going into the supply room alone.” When he didn’t comment, she continued. “I’ll be extra vigilant, both here and outside the hospital.”

“You think this will go away on its own.”

“That’s what I’m praying will happen.”

Prayer hadn’t made a single difference when that helo went down. He’d begged God to let his team live. His pleas had been in vain.

She spoke again, temporarily halting his descent into bitterness. “You’re a good listener, Sergeant Tan. I thank you for that. Now I’m asking you to respect my decision not to involve my dad.”

“I won’t volunteer the information.”

At his unspoken warning, she frowned. “And you won’t give him any reason to ask questions, I hope.”

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, Julian spotted a male nurse headed for the courtyard. He burst outside in a cloud of anger. “Veronica said to go home, Audrey.”

“Home? I don’t finish until seven.”

The veins bulged at his temple. Older than Audrey by about a decade, the man looked like he led a rough life. Bloodshot eyes, reddened nose, sallow complexion. His head was shaved to call less attention to his bald spot. He was thin to the point of gauntness.

“I’ll have to work alone this shift,” he spat, dismissing Julian with a sneer. “You need to get your act together. If you don’t, I’m going to Mr. Harper.”

The door slammed behind him. Audrey had grown pale again.

“One of your coworkers?”

“Frank Russo.”

“And Mr. Harper? Who’s he?”

“Hospital president.”

He didn’t know her well enough to assume that she was innocent, but he’d developed keen instincts when it came to a person’s character. His gut said she was the sort of girl who put a high priority on others’ comfort. Otherwise, why choose a career that held zero glamour and demanded she give her all to the well-being of strangers?