Page 11 of No Mistake

“We need boiling water to sterilize the instruments.” Chloe looked at Ricardo. “Can you stop pointing that thing at me? It’s making me even more nervous.”

Ricardo hesitated but, finally, he lowered the gun. “If you try anything...”

“Ricardo, I’m a doctor. Saving lives is what I do, so I will do everything I can to help this man. Not because you have a gun, but because it’s the right thing to do.”

Her hands had stopped shaking, and her mind completely focused on the patient. She was no longer thinking about where she was or how she came to be here. All that mattered was the patient on the table.

You got this. You may not have done this procedure alone, but you’ve watched it and assisted a dozen times. Yeah, but not on a dining table. Dismissing the thought, she picked up a knife and got to work.

Chloe didn’t know how much time had passed as she began stitching up the man called Luis. She’d retrieved a fragment, which thankfully had not hit any major organs or arteries, but there had been significant blood loss. She wasn’t risking opening up his leg. She would just have to pray there were no further fragments deeper inside. His pulse was there, but still faint. She paused, wiping her brow, and glanced up at Ricardo. Another man had arrived. She’d been so absorbed she hadn't heard him come in. The man was tall, very broad, wearing black pants, black blazer, and a black t-shirt underneath. She swallowed; her breath short. His presence dominated the room.

The new man approached the table.

“Is he going to make it?”

The American voice startled her. She looked up and was met with the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen.

“Well?” Ricardo barked, joining them.

“I’ve done all I can. With the unsterile environment, there’s a high risk of infection. He needs antibiotics and pain medication. Most of all, he needs blood. Without it, he will die.”

“I’m type O,” the American said and slipped off his jacket. He stepped forward, holding out his arm. “Go ahead.”

Chloe nodded and began setting up a line. Taking a needle, she tapped his arm to get a clear vein. “I get the feeling you’ve done this before.”

The man seemed calm, unbothered by the scene they were in, unlike Ricardo.

“Yes,” his tone was clipped.

She inserted the needle, taking just a few seconds for the blood to flow. Thankfully, she’d asked them to get a transfusion kit from wherever they’d stolen this stuff from.

“Do you want a chair, this may—”

“No.” He cut her off.

She spotted a tattoo peeking out under the sleeve of his t-shirt. She’d seen that tattoo somewhere before. It was mostly covered, but the bottom of it looked like an anchor, with a pitchfork-like thing.

“How long? He has work to do,” Ricardo barked.

“An hour, maybe more.”

“Too long. Can you speed it up?”

“No, she can’t,” the new man answered. “You want him to live, don’t you?”

“We need to deal with what happened tonight. Clean up loose ends. Cars, witnesses...”

“It’s being handled.” The man’s clipped tone silenced Ricardo. He turned to face Chloe. “I’m good, if you want to clean up.”

Chloe looked down at her yoga pants and t-shirt covered in blood. Not much chance of cleaning that up.

“Bathroom?” she asked Ricardo.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Jesus. Let her wash the fucking blood off.” New man again. He pointed to a hallway. “Second door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

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