An American Nurse
Kate Morrell has always been capable and independent. She neither wants nor needs a man in her life. Yet she can’t help being drawn to the dangerous stranger she meets in the hospital . . .
A Deadly Game
When Alex’s past threatens their present, Kate must decide how much she’s willing to risk to be with him . . . and whether the man she’s falling for is any different from the ruthless assassin hunting them down.
* * *
“Kate, I’m sorry, but we really need you right now.”
June Wallers, the nursing supervisor, burst into the tiny room where Katherine Morrell was quickly finishing her lunch.
Sighing, Kate put down her half-eaten sandwich, took a sip of water, and followed June down the hall. This was not the first time this week her allocated lunch hour had turned into a ten-minute snack break.
The recession had taken a heavy toll on New York hospitals, with budget cuts leading to hiring freezes and staff layoffs. As a result, the Emergency Room at Coney Island Hospital was at least three nurses short of what it needed to function properly. Other departments were also short-staffed, but their patient flow was somewhat more predictable. At the ER, however, it was almost always a madhouse.
This week had been particularly horrible. It was flu season, and one of the nurses had gotten sick. It was the absolute worst time for her to be out, as flu season also brought a greater-than-usual influx of patients. This was Kate’s fifth twelve-hour shift this week, and it was a night shift – something she hated to do, but couldn’t always avoid. But June had begged, and Kate had given in, knowing there was no one else who could replace her.
And here she was, skipping her lunch yet again. At this pace, she would be skin-and-bones before the flu season was over. The ‘flu diet,’ her mom liked to call it.
“What’s the emergency?” Kate asked, walking faster to keep up with June. At fifty-five years of age, the nurse supervisor was as spry as a twenty-year-old.
“We’ve got a gunshot wound.”
“How bad?”
“We’re not sure yet. Lettie’s kid got sick, and she just left –”
“What? So who’s with the patients?”
“Nancy.”
Shit. Kate almost broke into a run. Nancy was a first-year nurse. She was trying hard, but she needed a lot of guidance. She should never be on her own without a more experienced nurse present.
“Now you see why we need you,” June said wryly, and Kate nodded, her pulse speeding up.
This was why she’d gone into nursing – because she liked the idea of being needed, of helping people. A good nurse could make a difference between life and death for a patient, particularly in the ER. It was a heavy responsibility at times, but Kate didn’t mind. She liked the fast pace of work in the ER, the way twelve hours would just fly by. By the end of each day, she was so exhausted she could barely walk, but she was also satisfied.
The ER was teeming with activity when Kate entered. Approaching one of the curtained-off sections, Kate pulled back the drapes and saw the gunshot victim lying on the stretcher. He was a large man, tall and broad. Caucasian, from the looks of him. She guessed his age to be somewhere in the late twenties or early thirties. He had an oxygen mask on, and was already hooked up to the cardiac monitor. There was an IV drip in his arm, and he seemed to be unconscious.
Lettie, the first-year nurse, was applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. There were also two other men were standing nearby, but Kate paid them little attention, all her focus on the patient.
Quickly assessing the situation, Kate washed her hands and took charge. The patient’s pulse was strong, and he appeared to be breathing with no distress. Kate checked his pupils; they were normal and responded to light stimulation properly. There was an exit wound, which was lucky. Had the bullet remained inside the body, it could’ve caused additional damage and required surgery. A CT scan showed that the bullet had just missed the heart and other critical organs. Another inch, and the man would be occupying a body bag instead of this stretcher. As it was, the main challenge was getting the wound clean and stopping the bleeding.
Kate didn’t wonder how, why, or who had shot this man. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to save his life, to stabilize him until the doctor could get there. In cases like this – true life-threatening emergencies – the doctor would see the patient quickly. All other ER patients were typically in for a longer wait.
When Dr. Stevenson appeared, she filled him in, rattling off the patient’s vitals. Then she assisted him as he sutured and bandaged the wound.
Finally, the victim was stable and sedated. Barring any unforeseen complications, the man would live.
Stripping off the gloves, Kate walked over to the sink to wash her hands again. The habit was so deeply ingrained, she never had to think about it. Whenever she was in the hospital, she washed her hands compulsively every chance she got. Far too many deadly patient infections resulted from a healthcare professional’s lax approach to hygiene.
Letting the warm water run over her hands, she rolled her head side to side, trying to relieve the tension in her neck. As much as she loved her job, it was both physically and mentally exhausting, particularly when someone’s life was on the line. Kate had always thought full-body massages should be included as part of the benefit package for nurses. If anyone needed a rubdown at the end of a twelve-hour shift, it was surely a nurse.
Turning away from the sink, Kate looked back toward the gunshot ma
n, automatically making sure everything was okay with him before she moved on to check on her other patients.