Her L.A. Knight Read online

  When she entered the patient’s room, Sierra’s eyes were wide with bewilderment.

  “What’s up?” China asked.

  Sierra lifted her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “He’s gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “My patient. I brought him in here to change into a hospital gown, pulled the curtain and left to get his chart.” Sierra shook her head in disbelief. “No one left this room. I’m sure of it.”

  China stuck her head outside the door. “Anyone see a patient leave?”

  Several heads, including Rick’s, lifted from various locations in the large central station, blank looks all around. No one had noticed anything.

  She returned to the room to find Sierra staring dumb-founded at the ceiling. The engineers hadn’t replaced the heater vent in the ceiling. An approximate fifteen by fifteen inch square opening gaped at them. She followed her gaze back to the gurney lined up beneath it. Two waffled footprints were in evidence.

  China whistled through her teeth. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “The guy was very nervous,” Sierra said. “He said he’d cut his arm during the earthquake over the weekend. I assessed him briefly and it looked like he’d developed cellulitis. I told him to change his clothes to a hospital gown so a doctor could examine him.” She kept shaking her head with a baffled look. “You don’t suppose…” She glanced upward.

  China crawled onto the gurney and stood on tiptoe, but still couldn’t reach the vent portal. “How tall was he?”

  “He was a wiry guy, about five-ten.”

  “Do you honestly think he could have made it inside?”

  “How the heck should I know?” Sierra said, in a strained whisper. “Why would he do that? This is too weird.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Peter.”

  China cupped her hands around her mouth. “Peter?” She called toward the ceiling. No answer. She hopped down from the gurney. “I’m getting Rick.”

  On her way out she grabbed the patient chart and waved Rick over, trying not to call attention to the situation.

  He wandered toward her with his usual ER love-tobe-needed smile securely in place. “At your service, ladies.”

  “We have a situation here,” China said with a strained whisper, and tossed her head toward cubicle number three.

  He grinned. “A situation?”

  “Sierra’s patient has gone missing, and we think he crawled into the ceiling air vent.”

  He sputtered a laugh, and she shushed him.

  “I don’t want to alarm anyone until we know for sure,” she whispered. “Maybe I should call Security?”

  “Let me have a look.” He took the chart from her hand and glanced at the name. A lightning flash of recognition crossed his face, and he glanced up with a quizzical look. “Peter Wexler? This is the guy that thought Mr. Boots was stalking him. He’s a paranoid schizophrenic. Damn.”

  He put the chart in the door holder and rushed inside the room.

  China followed quickly behind. “Maybe the aftershock scared him?”

  “Who knows? It could be anything.” Rick hopped onto the gurney, reached up and tested the vent for stability. Agile as an athlete, he pulled himself into a chin-up until his head disappeared. “Peter?” He hung from the ceiling for a few moments before he lowered himself. “I think I saw movement. I’m going in.”

  Sierra gasped.

  China’s heart sank to her stomach. Before she could protest, Rick was halfway inside the vent, angling diagonally to allow his broad shoulders to fit, first one side and then the other. A second later his trim hips disappeared and finally his feet.

  China held her breath and waited.

  Sierra grabbed her arm and tugged. “What do we do now?”

  “Wait?”

  Someone must have noticed the extra activity in the cubicle, or perhaps they’d seen Rick shimmy into the ceiling vent above the suspended bedside curtains. A group of three nurses and an ER doctor gathered at the door.

  “What’s going on?” Dr. Weinstein asked.

  Sierra was quick to spill the beans. “My patient was here one minute and then the next thing I knew after the aftershock he disappeared into the ceiling, so China got Rick and he went in after him and now we’re waiting to see if he found him,” Sierra babbled.

  Chuckles erupted from the group and a few more people gathered nearby, while normal ER work was suspended for the unusual.

  A minute later, Rick’s black cross-training shoes reappeared at the vent opening.

  Everyone applauded as a familiar, cold voice broke in. “What, may I ask, is going on?”

  A chill ran up China’s spine when she turned to see Dr. Morell at the ER entrance. Wide-eyed, she snapped her head back and ignored him, concentrating instead on the scuffling and sliding overhead in the ceiling.

  She heard Dr. Weinstein explain the situation to his colleague just as Rick dropped out of the ceiling, with Peter’s foot safely attached to his hand.

  “Come on, Peter. Everything’s OK.” Rick tugged on his shoe and another appeared. Soon two gangly legs hung from the ceiling. China steadied Rick by holding onto one of his knees, and Sierra held the other from the opposite side of the gurney. Slowly, the rest of Peter got pulled out of the vent and onto the hospital bed. For a second time the gathered group applauded, and this time even a few patients joined in.

  A wild-eyed, frantic young psych patient got coaxed off the bed by Sierra. She offered him a drink of water and promised to stay by his side while he got the medical attention he needed.

  “Give him a sedative while you’re at it,” Dr. Weinstein said, writing an order.

  Rick smiled, his face dirty, as he dusted off his scrubs. China grinned back tensely, filled with apprehension, knowing who waited outside.

  He clapped his hands together, raised and shook them in victory, like a heavyweight champion for the crowd. “Anything for the ER, folks.”

  “Rick?”

  Recognition registered in his eyes at the sound of his father’s voice. His jaw tightened, and he dropped his hands to his sides.

  Dr. Morell gestured for Rick to join him on the other side of the nurses’ station. “When you’re through playing hero, I’d like a word with you,” he said curtly.

  Cringing with humiliation for Rick, China watched Dr. Morell walk toward the ER office. Rick took his time, made a wide sweep around the central station to where he’d left his white coat over the back of a chair. He carefully put it on and straightened the collar before joining his father.

  China trotted across the ER to the medicine room to get a sedative for Sierra’s patient so she wouldn’t have to leave him alone, glad to have something to keep her busy. She jammed the key in the cupboard and slammed the medicine cups on the counter, hardly able to control her anger over the disrespect Dr. Morell had shown Rick in front of everyone. Next door, through the paper-thin walls, the conversation between Rick and his father heated up.

  “What in the hell do you think we have security guards and the fire department for?”

  “I know that guy from before. I knew he’d respond to me. And there wasn’t a problem getting to him.”

  “Mercy Hospital could have wound up with two casualties, instead of one, with your shenanigans.”

  “If I thought for one moment I couldn’t pull it off, I’d have been the first to call Security.”

  “We’re liable for any injuries. This could have been a disaster.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “You’ll have to write up an incident report.”

  “I know the protocol.”

  “This type of careless behavior is the exact opposite of what the ER needs in a position of leadership.”

  “I disagree.”

  China heard the argumentative tone in Rick’s voice. That was sure to raise Dr. Morell’s hackles. During a brief silence she imagined the look on the doctor’s face, cold, harder than ice, and hoped that Rick would stand his grou
nd. When Dr. Morell spoke again, his harsh, controlled voice cut like a knife.

  “Furthermore, and the main reason I came down here tonight, it has come to my policy and procedures committee’s attention that you performed procedural sedation on an ER patient without benefit of medical doctor oversight.”

  “If it’s the high school football player you’re referring to, the patient was in pain. He was monitored. There were no complications.”

  “Our policy clearly states only a medical doctor can perform procedural sedation.”

  “I work under the doctor I’m assigned to in the ER on any given day.”

  “But Dr. Weinstein never signed the orders.”

  “Sometimes the patient needs to come before policy.”

  “Regardless of what you think, Rick, you don’t write the rules around here. You follow them.”

  Dead silence.

  Dr. Morell cleared his throat. “You may have blown your chance to become supervisor because of this.”

  Almost dizzy with rage, China couldn’t contain herself any longer. Her quest to right the injustices of the world forced a reckless response. She walked around the corner, rapped on the office door and, without being asked, stepped inside.

  “With all due respect, sir, in my opinion, what Rick did just now showed exemplary leadership.” She shook with anger.

  “And with all due respect, Ms. Seabury,” Dr. Morell said, seething, “I am leery to take the opinion of any wanton woman who is involved with my son.”

  She wanted to fling herself at Dr. Morell and scratch out his eyes. She wanted to swear a blue streak. Instead, she stood statue-still, fighting off trembles. Using all her reserves, she worked to control her voice and her quivering lower lip. “You’re not being fair.”

  Rick glared at his father, but offered nothing more in his defense.

  “Let me tell you about fair, Ms. Seabury.” Dr. Morell barely covered his contempt.

  “Our argument has nothing to do with China—” Rick stepped forward.

  “I think it does,” Dr. Morell cut in. His stone-cold eyes glanced in calculated thought from Rick to China and back. “I plan on having an audit committee examine your figures for both the fundraiser and the high school event you’ve planned. Let’s hope everything adds up.” He huffed, and left the office.

  Rick and China stood silent for several seconds, the room thick with tension. She wanted to console him, to tell him that now she realized what a bastard he had for a father. She wanted to rush into his arms and kiss away his pain.

  Instead, an emotionless voice caught her off guard. “I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but I don’t need your help or pity.” He brushed past her.

  She followed him through the office door.

  “I can take care of my own problems,” he said, heading for the ER exit.

  Fuming, she called after him. “Well, it didn’t sound like you’d handled that one too well.”

  Realizing everyone in the entire ER was standing quietly, taking in every sentence, she bit her lip.

  He stopped in mid-stride, and turned slowly. “In the future, China, if I need your help, I’ll ask for it,” he said with a cold stare reminiscent of his father’s. “Until then stay out of my business.”

  The automatic door swung wide and, finally breaking eye contact, Rick left.

  Stunned, China stood trembling. Her penchant for being rash had blown up in her face. She glanced around the ER where doctors, nurses and aides were busily working and pretending to mind their own business. Maybe they hadn’t witnessed the blow-up.

  Fat chance.

  “What in heaven’s name made you face off with Dr. Morell?” Sierra said, placing her arm around China’s shoulders and guiding her to the nurses’ lounge, bursting her bubble of hope that no one had noticed.

  “I guess both Dr. Morell and Rick put me in my place.” If she’d only thought it through, things might have been different. A sudden ache in her leg caused her to limp.

  “I don’t give a rip about Morell senior. Rick just doesn’t want you fighting his battles—that’s my take.” Sierra handed her a cup of coffee.

  “That was painfully clear.”

  OK. She’d been kicked in the teeth before. She could handle this. She rubbed her throbbing thigh and sat down.

  “We’re not even an item. Hell, we’ve only kissed a couple of times. What was I thinking?”

  Sierra took a sip of her own coffee and leaned against the counter. “With the earthquake and all, you’ve been through a lot together. I think you bonded pretty quickly.” A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “So how does he kiss?”

  China rolled her eyes and moaned. “You have such a one-track mind.”

  “Maybe. But how does he kiss?”

  She took a drink and thought about the ER resident playboy, the guy that every girl wanted a fling with. Why had he given her a chance at all? He seemed to genuinely like her, and she was just beginning to figure out how she felt about him. But then she had to go and ruin things by intruding in his personal battle with his dictator of a father. Sometimes she loathed the crusader-to-a-fault syndrome that ran her life. If she could only turn back the clock.

  She remembered the soft look in his eyes when he’d first kissed her. And, yeah, the earth had moved. She’d felt that kiss down to her toes long before the earthquake had struck.

  “How does he kiss?” China’s eyes narrowed then softened. She sank back into one of the nursing lounge chairs and fought off a grin. “He kisses like a seismic event.”

  Rick stormed down the hall. The scene with his father and China had been too reminiscent of his mother coming to his rescue when he’d been a kid.

  What do you mean, you didn’t make the principles list? How come you’re not taking more advance placement courses? What the hell is this “C” in chemistry? You mean to tell me that you’re not planning to be a premed major in college?

  His mother used to rush to his side and stand up for him against his overbearing, pompuous father.

  Foolish as it was, by taking the PA job at Mercy Hospital after the army, he’d hoped to prove to his father, once and for all, that he deserved his respect. Well, he’d accomplished zip in two years, and the way he felt now, it might be a century before he ever earned his father’s esteem.

  Why even try?

  He hadn’t meant to bite China’s head off, but she’d crossed over the line. The feud between father and son was none of her business.

  Right now he didn’t give a damn about where he was going. He took the elevator down a floor, pushed through the basement doors and outside to the parking lot. Anywhere was better than wherever his father was in that damned hospital.

  Maybe it was time to find a job someplace else.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THAT would be wonderful,” China said, tucking the ER receiver between her chin and shoulder and writing down the date and time to meet with the police lieutenant. Maybe he’d be willing to be the master of ceremonies for the high school event. No harm in asking.

  Oh, and she’d need a dozen volunteers to help pass fliers in the local neighborhoods, warning about the street closures for the carefully orchestrated car crash. She jotted that down.

  Both the fire and police departments would be on hand to work out the logistics of the faked car crash the day before they filmed.

  She’d agreed to work with the high school video class on filming the event to show to local schools. Hopefully it would drive home the point about the horrors of irresponsible teen driving.

  Thank heavens she’d had a busy schedule to preoccupy her, instead of pining away for Rick the past two weeks. They’d avoided each other completely since the scene in the ER. And, of course, he hadn’t called her once.

  So why was he approaching her now?

  Her knees went weak and her heart raced. She kept writing, but lost control of her hand and the words didn’t make any sense.

  “China?” He scratched his nose, looking s
heepish.

  Willing herself to act casual, she glanced quickly at him, and then away. “Hi. You need something?”

  “Can we step outside a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”

  She tried not to notice Sierra’s obvious stare from across the ER, even while she prayed that her legs would carry her.

  China nodded and followed him, hoping desperately that an apology was in the offing. She’d missed him. Missed the opportunity to know him better.

  He pushed the metal sensor for the automatic doors, and they swooshed across the rubber floor mat as they opened. His usual bravado in the ER had evolved to quiet humility over the last couple of weeks. Never was it more apparent than now.

  Using every effort to control her gait, though her legs felt like overcooked noodles, she held her head high and forced her eyes straight ahead as she stepped outside.

  He led her to a bench near the circular driveway at the entrance to Mercy Hospital and waited for her to sit. She expected him to join her but he stood beside the bench, surprising her. He pushed his hands inside the pockets of his white coat, where he kept his stethoscope. Lately, he’d been wearing the coat all the time.

  He cleared his throat and stared down the driveway.

  “I need your help,” he said flatly, the muscle in his jaw twitching the tiniest bit.

  Hiding her disappointment, she blinked, and waited. “D’Wayne’s been messing up again. He’s drinking and hanging out with his old friends, and he recently got his driver’s license.”

  She took a deep breath. “I see.”

  For the first time he turned and looked directly at her, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You do?”

  So their conversation wasn’t going to be about them. The realization stung, but she’d get over it. And besides, this was right up her street, a kid in distress who needed to get on board with her crusade. It might not be what she’d hoped for with Rick but, yeah, she’d take it. It was for the greater good.

  But first Rick would have to pay.

  “Of course I do.” She checked to make sure her hair was tightly in place. “You can talk until you turn blue with teenagers, but it doesn’t sink in. D’Wayne needs to see the damage firsthand.”