The guy in the bed is lucky. Two stab wounds to the abdomen, yet both miraculously missed anything vital. After administering strong pain relief, he calmed down enough for us to work. Now he's sleeping while I check his vitals one last time before finishing my shift and handing over.
Just as I reach to remove the blood pressure cuff from his arm, fingers latch onto my wrist, squeezing tighter the moment I try to pull away. My gaze snaps to the patient, Oscar. I'm met with glazed, dilated brown eyes and a sneer that sends a shiver of fear skittering down my spine. I rein in my nerves. Years of training kick in. I remind myself that he's a patient, and this isn't the same as what happened to me. He's not the man who attacked me.
"It's okay, Oscar. You're at the hospital. You're safe," I tell him, trying to pull my arm free again. I watch his eyes flit around the room before returning to me. Then, something sparks in his gaze.
"I know you," he croaks, his voice hoarse. The grip on my wrist tightens as he tries to haul me forward.
"Okay, that's great, Oscar, but you need to let go now. Please." I try to keep the fear out of my voice, but I can hear the tremble in my words. "I'm sure you're thirsty. Let me get you some water, and then maybe I can call someone for you. Family or a friend, perhaps?"
"I know you," he repeats, still not releasing me.
"Yes, I'm one of the nurses that treated you when you first arrived. Now, if you just let go, I can help you." I grit out the last part, my patience with Oscar wearing thin. I assumed he was just confused, but now I'm not so sure. He's starting to freak me out.
"I know you. I fucking know exactly who you are. You're that cunt Dominic Morgan's daughter. I've seen a picture of you," he taunts with a chuckle.
"What did you say?" I snap, scowling at him. "How do you know my father?"
"I know all about you," he snarls, squeezing so hard I can feel the bones grinding together. "You're going to get wh—"
"That's enough. Let the nurse go, Oscar, before I slap an assault charge on you too."
I flinch at the voice, but I don't turn around, keeping my eyes locked on Oscar. I watch the conflict play out across his face before he finally releases me.
Rubbing my wrist, I turn enough to get a look at the guy who spoke. He's standing in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. He isn't wearing a tie, and the top button of his shirt is undone, revealing a hint of bronze skin beneath. I look back to Oscar and see the daggers in his eyes aimed at the newcomer. With Oscar's attention fully focused on the suit—who I assume is a cop given the air of authority exuding from him and his threat of charges—I quickly finish removing the BP cuff and write the results on the chart at the foot of Oscar's bed.
When I turn to leave, the suit is watching me. I see a slight smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. He's not bad-looking; short blond hair and blue eyes, certainly easy on the eyes.
As I approach, I offer him my thanks before exiting the room and heading off to the nurses' station.
Thirty minutes later, I'm heading for the exit when I hear my name called from behind. Throwing a quick look over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of the cop from earlier. I slow to a halt, waiting for him to catch up before turning to face him.
"What can I do for you, Officer?" I already know he's a detective. I did a little digging of my own. I mean, come on, he's hot, and I don't exactly have a cop notch on my bedpost yet. He tilts his head at me, and I know he's not fooled at all.
"Looks like we've both been doing some investigating," he says, raising a brow. "I actually need to ask you a couple of questions, if you don't mind."
"Sure. Shoot." I pull my coat collar up further to stave off the icy chill in the air tonight, then tuck my hands into my pockets.
"Mr. Turner. Do you know him? Only, I got the impression he knows you." At my look of confusion, he gestures to the hospital. "Oscar? Your patient tonight."
"Oh, him. Err, no, I've never seen him before. And if you've done your job, you'd already know that. Just like you already know who my father is, my name, and no doubt, where I eat, sleep, and piss." I offer him a sarcastic smirk. "Now, if that's all, Detective, it's late and I'd like to go eat before falling into my bed."
I turn to walk away, but his voice breaks through the night again.
"There's one more question, Miss Morgan." I half-turn, just enough that he can see my face and I can see his. "Dinner, tomorrow?"
"Are you asking me or telling me? Because I've got to say, I'm not impressed with either. If that's your idea of asking a girl on a date, no wonder you're single. And as for telling me what to do, well, I save that for the bedroom. Goodnight."
This time he doesn't stop me, but I hear his laughter as I walk away.