Take Your Medecine Read online

  TAKE YOUR MEDICINE

  Arianna Hart

  Triskelion Publishing

  www.TriskelionPublishing.com

  Published by Triskelion Publishing, www.triskelionpublishing.com 8190 W. Deer Valley Road, #104-242, Peoria, AZ 85382 U.S.A.

  First e-published by Triskelion Publishing February 2004 Copyright © Arianna Hart. All rights reserved ISBN 0-9748614-4-8 Cover art Triskelion Publishing

  Dedication This book is dedicated, as always, to my family. Without the support of my parents, my sisters, and my husband, I would never have the courage to write. Patti, I hope you are happy now, thanks for the constant stroking of the ego. What can I say? I’m weak.

  Chapter One

  Jared cruised the water of the Long Island Sound trying to look like all the other weekend sailors out on the ocean. The choppy waves were getting smoother the closer he got to the mouth of the Connecticut River. Jared Romero could drive anything that had a motor, and quite a few things that didn’t, but he didn’t know how much longer he was going to keep this boat running.

  The bullet holes in the side of the boat were leaking fluid as fast as the bullet hole in his side was leaking blood. Jared couldn’t afford to stop running long enough to fix either hole. He knew he lost his pursuers before he hit the coast of Connecticut, but he also knew it wouldn’t take them long to send someone else to look for him. He figured he would be pretty easy to trace; after all, how many boats did one see with bullet holes running up the side?

  As long as he kept moving no one could really notice, but as soon as he stopped it would be a matter of hours, not days, before his trail was picked up again. He needed to find a place to ditch the boat, and get medical attention quickly and quietly.

  As he entered the mouth of the river the boat lurched with the change and Jared stumbled against the wheel. The pain in his side flared to life with an intensity that took his breath away. His wound wasn’t deep, luckily, but he had been steadily loosing blood for the last hour. He ignored the “No Wake” signs and pushed the throttle for more speed.

  He had an idea where he could ditch the boat unobtrusively. He might even be able to work in some care for himself, too, if he played his cards right. The boat started to sputter and jerk, and he realized he didn’t have much time to shuffle the deck if he wanted to survive this last hand.

  Jared pulled the limping boat up to the mooring for the restaurant on the river. He remembered this place from one of his visits with his friend Connor who had recently relocated to Connecticut. The restaurant was located on the river and had moorings available to the boat traffic that went up and down the Connecticut River all summer long. On a Friday night the place was wall-to-wall people, and better yet, boats.

  Jared steered his way carefully between two 30-foot boats, and took a quick glance around the boat to see if he left anything of value on board. The only things left were his laptop and a cooler. The cooler he could replace, the laptop was one of a kind.

  Jared carefully pulled the strap of the laptop case over his head and took a steadying breath before he made the jump from the deck of the boat to the dock. He had a windbreaker on to hide the blood-soaked tee shirt. It was nearing midnight, so he hoped no one would take too of good a look at him. He paid the bouncer the exorbitant cover charge and wormed his way through the crowd. Most of the patrons were either drunk or well on their way.

  The music was pumping and the lights were flashing. Jared hoped the suffering he was experiencing wasn’t written plainly on his face, he needed the chaos to cover his condition, but the pounding bass was making his side throb, and the flickering lights were making him dizzy. He stumbled his way through the gyrating crowds, wincing when he was jarred and elbowed in the side. He finally made his way to the exit of the restaurant and blended in with the night.

  Jared walked as smoothly as possible through the streets. Luckily the place he had in mind was very near by. Unfortunately, the roads between the river and his destination were not the best after dark. Jared stumbled and caught himself. The last thing he wanted to do, besides leave a blood trail, was look like a drunk or an easy mark.

  He saw the blue “H” signs and knew he was close, now if his luck would hold he might just make it through the night. He went past the hospital, too many tricky questions to answer for a gunshot wound, and walked across the street to one of the many doctors’ offices that lined the street near the emergency room. When he read the one that said “Nordstrom, Galle, Keefer, and Sullivan, OB/GYN” he sighed with relief.

  He went to the back of the building, praying that his luck would hold. He was pushing the envelope of his good luck as it was. When he saw the brand new blue Explorer parked in the empty doctor’s office lot, he almost fainted in thanks, or blood loss, he wasn’t sure. He could normally break into a car without a thought, but his hands were shaky, his vision blurry, and sweat was dripping into his eyes. It took him twice as long as normal to break in and disarm the alarm, but he finally managed to get into the SUV and collapse in the backseat. The last thing he remembered was being grateful that she didn’t drive a sports car.

  Chapter Two

  Macayla checked her watch, surprised to find herself leaving on time for once. Her shift was over at midnight, and it was only twelve thirty, a new record for her. There was a lull in the baby business so far this summer, but Macayla knew it wouldn’t last long.

  She thanked her stars that the only patient she had in the last four hours was a mother of three who hadn’t come in until half an hour before she delivered her fourth baby girl. The mother had joked that she could have delivered the baby herself at this point.

  “But why mess up your own sheets?” Macayla quipped back. Both mother and baby were doing fine, dad seemed a little dazed by the thought of four daughters, but he was recovering nicely.

  “Please talk Mrs. Harris into staying the full two days. She has three active little girls at home and she could use all the rest she can get. I’m off for vacation after tonight, so I won’t be able to do it,” Macayla told the nurse as she finished writing in her chart. The nurse looked surprised for a minute, but quickly recovered.

  “I didn’t know you were going on vacation, Dr. Sullivan, going anywhere special?”

  Macayla could see the wheels spinning in the nurse’s head. Were there any single, male doctors going on vacation too? Hospital gossip was worth gold.

  “No, I’m taking some time off while it’s quiet, if I don’t use up all my time, Jane is going to have my head.”

  “I’m sure Dr. Nordstrom is thinking, ‘What if she takes it all at once?’” The nurse smiled in camaraderie.

  It was almost legendary how seldom Macayla took time off. If she ever decided to take it off all at once, the rest of the practice would be working doubles for months. And they would all do it too because Macayla had covered for sick kids, weddings, ski vacations, school vacations, and various other vacations. Macayla was always the one who covered for someone when they needed it, and the rest of the practice would cover for her in a heartbeat, if she only asked for it.

  “I finally got tired of her begging me to do something. It was either take a few weeks off now, or end up kidnapped and shoved aboard some cruise ship. Talk to Mrs. Harris for me, I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Macayla said as she signed the

  last of the orders.

  “Have fun relaxing Dr. Sullivan,” the nurse called.

  “Yeah, fun,” Macayla muttered as she left the maternity floor. Macayla had no idea how to relax. She saw this forced vacation almost like a suspension with pay. She could clean her condo; Lord knows it could use some heavy duty cleaning. That would use up a day, maybe.

  She could practice her karate, when the practice got really busy sh
e tended to miss classes and her cardio workouts. That would kill a few more hours before her instructor Dave threw her out of the studio. She could visit with her friend Samara and their eight-month-old baby girl, but Samara had to work, and her husband Connor wouldn’t want company every day.

  She could help out her friend Fred in Boston for a few days. He ran a clinic in Roxbury, not the best area of the city, and Macayla spent a few days a month helping him out. Oh, no she couldn’t go this month; the state was coming in to audit them for next year’s funding, and Fred didn’t want to look well enough off to afford two doctors even though she volunteered her time.

  Maybe she could visit her brother? No, he was working for Habitat for Humanity this summer in rural Georgia. He probably didn’t want his older sister cramping his style anyway. There was eight years between the two of them, and at twenty years old, the last thing Kevin wanted was his almost thirty-year-old sister babying him. Macayla didn’t consider what she did babying him, but he sure did.

  Macayla was still trying to figure out how she was going to survive three weeks without work when she left the hospital through the emergency room and crossed the street to get her car. She always parked at the practice because it was easier than fighting for a spot in the parking garage at the hospital. After waving to the security guard, she rounded the corner and clicked the lock for the door. Automatically, she looked in the back seat for intruders. She did so out of habit, but almost jumped out of her skin when she actually saw a body in the back seat. She was digging through her purse to dial 9-1-1 when the back door opened.

  “Stay back! I’ve already dialed 9-1-1 and if I scream Hospital Security will be over here in a heartbeat!” Macayla shouted as she backed up and prepared to defend herself. She was mentally kicking herself for telling the security guard to stay at his station. She was only going across the street, she was a black belt in karate, what did she have to fear? What an idiot!

  “Macayla! Calm down.”

  “How do you know who I am? Did you read the registration? Why are you still here, run away before the cops get here!” Macayla was still digging in her bag for the phone. What was the point of making them so small if they got lost in your purse?

  “Macayla, it’s me, Jared. Jared Romero, Connor’s friend. Remember?”

  Macayla took a better look at the tall stranger leaning against her car. “Move into the light.” Macayla ordered him. Her hands were shaking, and her heart was pounding. If it was indeed Jared, she had a lot more to worry about than if it was a stranger.

  The first time she met him he had broken into her apartment and she held a gun on him, while wearing nothing but a towel. She had threatened to shoot him between the legs before she found out he was just bringing a phone so she could have contact with her pregnant friend Samara while she and Connor were on the run.

  Samara was Macayla’s best friend in the world, and Connor was her husband, who just happened to be Jared’s best friend. He hadn’t taken kindly to having a gun pointed at him and paid her back by kissing the life out of her. She had seen him on two other occasions, and in both experiences she had ended up the loser.

  As he moved into the pool of light cast by the street lamp, Macayla noticed the broad shoulders, the height, the sheer power of him. She didn’t even need to look at his face to confirm his identity, but she looked up at him anyway. He was close to a foot taller than her five foot three inches, but she refused to be cowed by his size. She boldly stared at his chiseled features.

  She remembered the dark black hair, it was brutally cut in the military fashion. It did nothing to detract from his looks. His eyes were hazel with more green than blue, and bloodshot now. His nose had been broken at least once, but it only added character to his stunning face. He had high, sharp cheekbones, and a strong, stubborn chin. If it wasn’t for the nose, he could pose in any magazine across the country.

  “Satisfied?” Jared asked with a snap in his voice. He lurched over to the truck and practically fell over.

  “What is wrong with you? Are you drunk?” Macayla asked, running over to make sure he didn’t land on his face. When she got to him, she noticed his pallor and could feel the heat coming off his skin. When she wrapped her arm around his waist, he hissed in pain.

  “What is going on? Are you hurt?”

  “Gunshot, in my side, not serious, but I’m losing blood. That’s why I came here, to you.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you were having a baby, but I didn’t expect a gunshot! What am I supposed to do?”

  “Get it out, stitch me up, and let me on my way, without any awkward questions.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “I just knew you’d ask questions. Do you think I could lie down while you grill me, I’m not feeling too good,” Jared said as dehydration and blood loss got the best of him and he passed out in the car.

  “I just knew you’d find a way to avoid answering my questions!” Macayla mumbled as she pushed his heavy legs in the back of the truck. “You had better not bleed all over my seats. This is the first new vehicle I’ve had in almost ten years, you better not ruin my interior.”

  She ran into her office, grabbing as many things as she could think of. She had a decent medical kit at home, but she didn’t have everything she’d need for stitches. As it was, she hoped Jared stayed passed out, because she only had a local anesthetic and it was still going to hurt like hell.

  Macayla drove the short trip to her condo with her mind on overdrive. Where had he gotten shot? Why did he come to her? How was she going to lug his big body into her condo without anyone seeing her? It was after midnight, she should be able to pull around to the front door and get him out, then park the truck in her garage.

  Her garage led into the basement of the condo, but Macayla didn’t want to drag him up a flight of stairs if she could avoid it. She didn’t know if she even could. He was really big, and dead weight was always hard to lift. She tried to put the word “dead” out of her mind.

  “Come on Romero, wake up! I don’t know how I’m going to get you into the house by myself.” Macayla gently slapped his face, and when he didn’t wake up she slapped him a little harder.

  “All right! I’m coming!” Jared had the glassy eyed look of someone with a fever, and he could barely stand up even with Macayla’s help. Macayla had already unlocked the front door and had it propped so she wouldn’t have to fight with her keys and Jared at the same time. She managed to help him through the door before he passed out again.

  “Damn it, Romero, couldn’t you have at least made it to the living room? Now I’m going to have to drag you across the floor and you’ll probably get blood stains on my carpet,” Macayla complained to hide her anxiety. She had no idea how long ago he’d been shot, and she had no way of giving him more blood. She could give him IV fluids, but that was it. If he lost too much blood, she would either have to take him to a hospital, or watch him die.

  Macayla managed to roll him onto a blanket and drag the blanket into the living room where she could spread out and have some room to work on him. She gathered as many towels as she could find, and methodically set up her tools.

  She scrubbed her hands, put on her gloves and went about cutting Jared’s jacket and pants off. He was too big for her to try to wrestle his clothes off, and she didn’t want to waste precious time. She found a vein easily, inserted the IV, and prepared to search for the bullet.

  His wound was in his side. She didn’t find an exit wound, so the bullet was either shot at the limit of the gun’s range, or from a small caliber weapon. She cleaned the area of the entry wound, and used the towels to staunch the blood that was still seeping out. The fact that it wasn’t gushing out was a relief. He’d probably passed out more from dehydration than from serious blood loss. She could solve the dehydration problem with the IV fluids, but he wasn’t out of the woods by a long shot.

  Macayla gave him the small amount of anesthesia that she had with her and waited for it to work before s
he started probing for the bullet. She grabbed her forceps and gently probed the wound, and when Jared didn’t flinch, she dug deeper. The forceps when in all the way to the hilt and she still couldn’t feel the bullet. Bullet wounds were tricky. They could bounce around inside the body causing extensive soft tissue damage.

  The fact that he was still walking made her think that the bullet hadn’t hit his spine. If she couldn’t find the bullet soon, she’d have no choice but to bring him to a hospital so he could be operated on. The situation seemed to be leaning towards the hospital when she heard the “clink” of metal hitting metal. She’d found the bullet! She dried her bloodstained hands off on one of the towels and got a better grip on the forceps. The bullet was no longer round; it was an irregular shape, which was making it difficult to pull out.

  Macayla was sweating, but hardly noticed. Her hands were steady, and her thoughts calm as she pulled the chunk of metal out of Jared’s side, and applied a towel to sop up the blood. She took her surgical needle and thread and stitched up the wounded vein that was leaking so much blood. Then she took the staple gun she usually used when she closed caesarian sections, and stapled the skin of his side closed.

  Macayla checked the IV fluids, and increased their rate. Jared hadn’t lost a lot of blood for a gunshot wound, but she was still worried. She gave him an antibiotic through the IV so it would work quickly, then sat back on her heels to survey her work.

  Jared would end up with a scar, but if he got through the night, he’d live. He had either gotten shot by a small caliber gun or from far away. In either case he’d gotten extremely lucky to have such a minor wound.

  Macayla sponged him off and laid a blanket over him to keep his heat in. She turned off her air conditioning as well. The last thing he needed was cold air blowing over him. After she cleaned up her supplies, put the towels in the washer to soak, and changed her clothes, it was after 4:00 in the morning. Macayla grabbed a pillow from the bunch that were on her bed and lay down on the couch next to her patient. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.