Page 52 of Keeping What He Wants

Chapter Eight

The glamorous life of a doctor was not what the movies projected. After a wonderful time away with Ryker, Ella started work at seven Sunday night. She ended up doing a double shift and working that Monday morning too with patients filling the ER, battling a horrible case of a stomach virus. She prepared herself to get puked on. Two hours into her shift, it happened: the splatter of an unidentified person’s vomit coated her back. The aroma wasn’t pleasant as she tried not to move too much. She didn’t dare turn around as the splatters continued, thankfully coating the floor instead of her.

“Oh, Dr. Hawkins.” One of the nurses in front of her cringed.

Ella blew out a breath. It was in her hair. It coated her scrubs and made them cling to her back. She felt it running down her legs and drip into her shoes. “Can we get this patient a trash can? And maybe a room? Can someone please get me something to clean myself up with?”

Ella had a strong stomach, but the domino effect vomiting caused nearly rippled through the ER. She’d been dealing with a bad case of patients having the stomach bug, and it was highly contagious and easy to transmit. Loraine handed her some paper towels and tried to help her clean up the mess the best they could. Her ass was wet from the event, and she didn’t want to think about how gross it was. Once she’d cleaned it up, she made her way to the doctor’s locker room. A hot shower with heavy-duty antiseptic soap sounded like it would be the best part of her day.

She stripped the soiled garments off and turned the shower on. Her reflexes were pretty good and she’d learned how to dodge most things, but someone coming up behind her and vomiting was a first.

She scrubbed her body liberally with the soap, trying to get the smell off her skin while killing germs in the process. Her phone rang as she turned the water off. She grabbed a white scratchy hospital towel and wrapped it around her.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ella.” It was her father.

She frowned. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

She squeezed the water from her hair and sat down on one of the nearby benches in the bathroom.

“I don’t want to scare you, but a threat came in today about one of the guys Guns and Gangs is watching. He threatened to harm someone at the hospital. He knows me, and I have reason to believe that he’d go after you. I just want you to be safe.”

She swallowed. “What does this guy look like?”

“I’ll text a picture to you. If you see him, call the cops. Call me. Call Ryker even. He’s dangerous. Deadly. Please stay away from him.”

“Okay. I will.” She sat there a minute. “Dad, I miss you. Can we have dinner or something? We don’t have to talk about anything. I just miss being around you.”

“I don’t know, Ella. I’ve been working late a lot. We’ll see.”

“Yeah. Okay. I love you.”

The line was silent, and she thought he’d hung up. For a moment, she sat there simply staring at the shower stall.

“I love you too, Ella. Please stay safe.”

He disconnected, and she let out a breath of relief. Maybe things were changing between them. She dressed in a fresh pair of scrubs and headed back to the ER. She saw policemen hanging around outside and figured her father had sent them there for added protection. The hospital was big, and there were plenty of hiding spots, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to mess with another criminal in her ER.

“Dr. Hawkins, room thirteen specifically requested to see you.”

Ella groaned. Special requests were not an ER doctor’s preference. She treated her patients from most life-threatening to least. When special requests got involved, it screwed up the system. Or it was a junkie looking for pills.

She opened the door. “Hello, I’m Dr. Hawkins.”

The man sitting on the gurney held his arm tight to his body. Ella took him in, noting that the baseball cap he wore covered the majority of his face. He didn’t look up at her when she spoke to him and didn’t seem like he really cared if she helped him.

“What is your name?” she asked as she looked over the nurse’s preliminary report.

“Alex.” His voice was low. Almost inaudible.

“Okay, Alex. You have a hurt arm?”

He nodded.

Ella stared at him. The black sweater seemed odd for that time of year. Atlanta was rarely cold. He’d also called her by name. She didn’t know him. He didn’t look like anyone she’d treated before either. The warning her father gave her rang in her head, and she slipped her phone out to look at her text messages. The picture he’d sent her was for a dark-haired man with a scar on his left cheek. She glanced over at Alex and noticed the scar before anything else.

Her heart sped up. Quickly texting her father, she dropped her phone back in her pocket and turned. “Well, Alex, let me go get the X-ray machine and we’ll see what’s wrong your arm, okay?”

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