Page 1 of Bound to the Crime Lord

Chapter One

Juliette POV

Icould hear the sound of sirens blaring outside. It was the usual backdrop of East Garfield. I was deep in the belly of the beast.

I was miles away from my plush private hospital at Grace Memorial. It boasted the best facilities in the entire city, and was the healthcare center choice for the wealthy and elite.

So why was I, a senior trauma attending, volunteering in the deep ghetto of Chicago? Service. Many people in this area could only dream of having access to healthcare, let alone being attended to by a specialized doctor. I had a heart for those less privileged than me. That was what had driven me into this field in the first place.

The clinic was small and looked like it still belonged in the early 90s. But it was a place I had managed to save dozens of lives in, and I would keep coming back to it until my lungs gave out.

I cracked my spine and walked back to the nurses' station with my board. I handed it to Hilda, who was the head nurse on the night shift.

“She’ll need to go on a paracetamol drip to bring her fever down, and then we’ll watch her for the next few hours.” I gave her the rundown for the teen girl who had walked in here alone an hour or so ago. “Who’s next?”

Hilda handed off the board to Susan, the other nurse on duty. From her body language, I knew something was off. She cocked her head in the direction of the procedure, room wanting me to follow her.

Hmm. Something wasdefinitelyoff.

I followed Hilda into the back where the procedure room was located. We pushed past the doors inside and I stopped short when I saw a bloodied man on the table practically hyperventilating. And he had good enough reason to be breathing so hard. He was currently sporting a bullet wound right where his spleen was.

Two large men stood off to the side in black attire, watching the boy with grim expressions.

I turned to my head nurse, the agitation and worry filling my mind. “Again, Hilda?”

I had been volunteering here long enough to know that the boy on the table had been shot due to a gang shootout. Otherwise, he would have been brought in from the front of the clinic and not the back.

Gun violence was not an off thing here in the state of Illinois. Chicago was the beacon for all things criminal and gang related. As much as my city was home to beauty, behind the golden mirror there was a rotten and ugly crime ring.

“He’s just a boy, doc,” she pleaded her case. “You’ve done dozens of these here anyway, and with far less equipment, might I add. He’ll be safest in your hands. I’ve already given him alocal anesthetic to help with the pain. You don’t have any other patients you need to see for the time being. Please.”

“Who is he to you?” From the way she was begging, I knew that he had some form of importance.

Her eyes dimmed a little. “My sister’s kid. My nephew.”

My heart sank. “Lucy? The one who passed away last spring?”

She nodded solemnly. “That very one. He’s a good kid, doc, he’s just got into some messed up stuff. But I promise after this he will clean up his act and he’ll?—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, my friend.” I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Head back out front for me. I got this.” Truthfully, I didn’t know if Ididhave this. I was working on faith and a prayer at this point.

I watched the relief wash over her. She looked into my eyes with those worn-down brown pools of hers and said, “Thank you, Juliette.”

Hilda worked hard. She supported not only her family, but her sister's children now too. Nursing didn’t lay nearly enough for the work they needed, but she still showed up and did her job anyway. She inspired me daily.

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I do.”

I shooed her away and gave my attention to the boy on the table. The two men followed my movements with their eyes, but said nothing.

The tension in the air was thick and clung to the walls of the makeshift operating room. Hilda had cut his shirt open for me and had placed an oxygen mask over his face. His eyes were locked on the ceiling above. His skin glistened with sweat.

All my equipment was laid out for me perfectly, like it always was when we had one of these cases trickle into our clinic. I went to grab my scalpel when the boy's hand reached out and grabbed onto my arm. His rapid breath misted the oxygen mask, tearsbrimming his eyes as his unspoken message was written all over his face.

Save me, please…

My heart broke.

He was scared.

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