Page 2 of Running Scared
“Well, it’s good to know where I stand,” Bailey said.“How about you go in there and let me take a check on his charts—”
“What do they say?”said two men who had apparently just appeared, like magic, down the bustling corridors of the ER.The one who spoke, a little grayer, a little taller than his slighter, more-humble companion, had a swagger to his shoulders that Bailey might have appreciated on any day a pugnacious G-man hadn’t just chewed him out for not violating HIPAA laws.
“They say give me a minute with his charts!”Bailey protested.“Good Lord, did I go down for my power nap and wake up in a Marvel movie?I haven’t even spoken with the patient yet!”
The two men grimaced, and Bailey waved his hand at the entire testosterone posse that was overwhelming his little hospital.“Go away!”he all but begged.“But I will tell you that if the injuries are what I think they are, it might be better to keep your friend here for observation—”
“Son,” said the older man, “I’vebeenin a hospital bed.If all he’s got is soft-tissue damage and a concussion, I might be able to give him a better night’s rest in a nice hotel than here.I can bring him back in the morning if you like.”
Outskirts was a small hospital, but it was also a busy one.Freeing up a bed in the ER with no danger to the patient was no small offer.
“Let me look at his charts,” Bailey said with a sigh.“I might take you up on that, but first I have tosee what’s doing.Now go talk to him, but my God, no yelling.If he appears overwhelmed or about to puke, everybody back up or they’re going to get it on their shoes.Now go.”
Everybody went except Special Agent Hottie.
“Was I not talking to all three of you?”he asked, declining to mention that Dean Royal’s sweat and heat was working like an aphrodisiac in the cool of the antiseptic hospital.
Lean lips quirked up in a smile of pure arrogance.“No,” he said.“I don’t think you were.”
Bailey let out a sigh and pointed.“Stand over there,” he said, all the authority he could muster in his voice.Dean raised a lazy eyebrow, but he went.
And Bailey wondered if he could kickstart his brain again now that his libido had been freed of Special Agent Royal’s distracting presence.
“That young man smells as good as he looks,” Sarree said, with the same tone of voice she used in assessing the extent of wound irrigation.
“Oh my God, so it’s not just me?”Bailey muttered, taking a glance at Val Royal’s charts.Every doctor so far had noted that the patient would need rest, a warm bath, a soft bed, and some muscle relaxants, as well as dark and quiet.Bailey had slept in hospitals for a long time now as a doctor, and he was under no illusions as to how restful they were as an institution.
“No, sir,” Sarree said, in answer to Bailey’s earlier question.“But I don’t think I’m the man’s type.”
Bailey glanced up and saw that Dean Royal was studying Bailey with interest, a glint of amusement and something else… something glowing and, oh hell,hotin his eyes.
“He’s sort of an asshole,” Bailey muttered, making a notation next to the drug recommendations and then pulling out his prescription pad.“It’s a shame he’s my type.”
Sarree gave a brief cackle.“A shame?”
Bailey gave her a beleaguered glare.“The man is based in California, he’s here for his injured brother, andIhave to work tonight, remember?”
She harrumphed.“I don’t think you’re giving that young man enough credit.I’m thinking with that glint in his eyes, he could overcome any obstacle you put in his way.”
Bailey gave the man in question a sideways glance, and to his horror, he made eye contact, the kind that clung.
Oh, those hazel eyes did not get any less appealing when they were staring at Bailey like they were trying to devour hissoul.
Sarree cleared her throat, and Bailey jerked his attention back to the matter at hand.Okay, then, all things considered, if Junior G-Man here could promise his brother would get some rest and someplace comfortable to stay, and somebody to bring him back the next day for a follow-up, he was pretty sure that would be a better bet than a night in the hospital.
He glanced up at Dean Royal sourly.“Okay, then,” he said.“Let me actuallyseethe patient.Then I can buzz the pharmacy to start his prescriptions, and we’ll see what we can do.”
A HALFhour later, after one more visit with the grumpy but cooperative Val Royal, Bailey stepped out of the rather crowded room and took a breath.The ER had settled down to the late-afternoon quiet stage, and he wondered if he could hit Sarree up for that two hours of sleep he so desperately needed.
Without conscious thought, his imagination summoned up an arresting pair of hazel eyes.Val’s eyes had been darker, he thought randomly, and the face a little more square.The man had been handsome and well-built, but something about Junior G-Man’s swagger seemed to be yanking Bailey’s chain.
As though conjured by thought alone, the man himself was suddenly at Bailey’s elbow.
“Thank you,” he said.“He’ll do much better with McCauley taking care of him.”
“Are they an item?”Bailey asked and then fought the temptation to kick himself.For fuck’s sake, this wasTexas,and you just did not ask another man if his brother was gay.
Dean Royal didn’t seem put off in the least.“Here’s hoping,” he said with feeling.“Val’s a grumpy bastard.He needs some softening.”
