The patient thrashed wildly, and Zane’s shirt was bloody. The man was in his thirties or forties, slight of build, and smelled strongly of alcohol. That smell, mixed with the pungent metallic scent of blood, flipped Mabel’s stomach upside down.
Blood was pouring from the man’s hand, which wasn’t helped by the thrashing. Oh, and the cursing. There was a lot of cursing.
Raylene motioned to her. “Mabel, hold him steady on this side. We’re going to have to inject a sedative.”
Zane’s head whipped up. In the chaos, Zane saw her, and his eyes blazed through her.
The corners of his mouth turned up, and even though a softoofleft his lungs as the patient pummeled Zane’s arm with his non-injured fist, he held her gaze, his mouth still curled in a small smile of wonder.
He did not have the right to smile at her like that. Not when they were working. Not when he’d engaged in The Incident PartDeuxand then proceeded to ignore her for two months.
She shook her head roughly and then joined Zane at the gurney, grasping the patient’s arm with one hand and holding his thigh steady with the other. The man jerked around to look at Mabel, and it took only a moment for him to start to calm as he looked at her, his face covered in sweat and smears of blood.
Except, a sick feeling of caution floated over her. The patient’s stare? Chilling.
“Doc’s on his way from surgical; now let’s get some sedative in him.” Raylene prepped for the injection, and the patient started tostruggle again. She tilted her head toward Mabel. “It would have been nice for you to practice this,” she shouted over the man’s colorful language and labored moans. “But seeing as how he’s giving us trouble, I’ll take care of it while you assist, okay?”
Mabel nodded and then turned her attention to the patient. “That’s good. Way to start to calm. Breathe.” She hazarded a glance at Zane.
The patient gasped for air, and Zane secured an oxygen mask around his head.
She spoke to the patient again, and his movements stilled.
“You’ve got the touch, Mabel.” Zane’s gaze continued to bore into hers.
She started to loosen her grip as the man slumped into the stretcher. Maybe he would finally be calm.
Raylene neared with the IV kit. But just as Mabel let go even more to get out of the way, the patient flung his body to one side, his shoulder wrenching free of Zane’s clutches. In one swift movement, the patient sat up, propelled himself off the stretcher, and shoved Mabel into a choke hold against the wall.
Instantly, Mabel’s head throbbed, pain searing through her throat at the suffocating grip of the inebriated man. She saw stars and couldn’t breathe.
Without pause, Zane tackled the guy into the legs of the stretcher. On the hard floor of the ER, he pinned him with his knees. The patient brought his hands up to Zane’s eyes, but Zane broke away. He slammed his fist down on the guy’s cheekbone before Raylene seized Zane’s shoulders.
“Okay, okay. You’ve got him.” Raylene kneed Zane in the back. “That’s enough!” Her breath was ragged.
They all breathed heavily while Zane continued to restrain him as she administered the sedative. A few moments later, the man’s lids closed and his breathing slowed to a normal pace. Only then did Zane relax his hold. He shook his head and whispered, “Loser,” under his breath.
He got up off the floor, his shirt rubbed down with blood, and took a couple of stumbling steps away, his back to Mabel.
He peeled off his gloves and spun back around. “You okay?” he asked Mabel, reaching her and gently tilting her chin up and away so he could see her neck. He traced a finger along the front of her throat, his touch sending tendrils of electricity throughout her. The concern in his eyes and the feel of his fingertip was something that would be burned into her brain forever. “He had ahold of you good.”
His voice almost broke. Almost.
She cleared her throat, the pulse in her neck throbbing. “I’m okay.”
The look on his face told her he didn’t believe that one bit.
Zane turned to Raylene. “Ask Dr. Mitchell to take a look at her, would you?” He signed the admitting paperwork Raylene pushed toward him and turned to leave, his breaths not yet at a normal rate.
He looked back at Mabel, and his gaze filled with concern. “I’m sorry he choked you like that.” His hand swiped across his forehead.
Before she could respond, he was gone through the double doors and back out to the ambulance, the swagger in his firefighter strut subdued only by a slight limp.
Mabel was sick. She’d been assaulted. Zane had saved her.
After Raylene got Mabel a water bottle, she guided her to sit in one of the office chairs behind admittance. She sighed and clicked her tongue. “I’ve never had a paramedic respond that way. I’m going to have to write him up.”
At Mabel’s slight gasp, she continued. “Not that the patient didn’t deserve it, and he was defending you, but still. I do have to make a report.”
