From down the hall, someone yelled, “OR 4 is open!”
Brendan would’ve followed to give the doctor a verbal report, except Trevor stepped into his path, pointing at his left arm. “Let’s get that seen to.”
Brendan glanced down at his arm, finally getting eyes on it. Feeling it was one thing. Actually seeing the damage to his arm from the bullet graze was enough to send the synapses in his brain that handled pain into overdrive.
“Shit,” Erin said as she flagged down a nurse. “Hey, can we get a room?”
Brendan pressed his hand over the graze on his arm, fingers sliding through blood. He followed after Erin, trying to breathe through the pain. Amidst the swarm of activity in the aftermath of the hospital attack, Brendan was given a biobed rather quickly. Considering his wound was minor and something a portable regen unit could heal in an hour or two, he figured he got seen quickly due to his actions in the ward.
Getting out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the emergency room meant Brendan’s brain was calm enough to start flashing images of the gun that was pointed at him every time he blinked.
“You all right?” Erin asked worriedly as the nurse went through the motions of bringing the biobed online.
“I will be,” Brendan said.
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but neither was it the whole truth, and he doubted Erin could tell. Brendan hadn’t hinted about his PTSD to anyone outside the mandatory therapy sessions everyone had been required by the chief to take after April. Compared to what others had gone through, his issues weren’t worth the trouble to talk about.
That didn’t mean living with them was easy.
3
Washington, D.C.
USA
“Don’t removethem from the premises,” Trevor warned the lieutenant from the Metropolitan Police Department who’d taken over the scene. “The MDF is sending a team to take them into custody.”
The trio of attackers were sitting against the triage desk out in the waiting room, arms cuffed behind them. They’d been given grudging, minimum care by one of the nurses on duty. Since none of their injuries were life-threatening, Trevor hadn’t asked her for more than a sign off on their status. He could’ve done it but didn’t have the legal authority yet since he wasn’t a doctor and not wearing a uniform.
Base had been notified at the man’s off-the-cuff comment, a potential threat Trevor couldn’t, in good conscience, ignore. If the three men held allegiance to the Sons of Adam, then that needed to be investigated by the appropriate agency. After everything Trevor and Alpha Team had gone through in the past two years, the MDF had the rightful jurisdiction claim and he’d passed on the information accordingly.
Now the last thing he needed to do was check on the paramedic.
Trevor headed back into the ward area of the ER, hunting down the charge nurse to find out where the paramedic was. Karen Salvador was a no-nonsense Filipina woman who barely came up to Trevor’s shoulder. She flicked her fingers to access her data rings, studying the holographic chart that floated above the tech.
“Bay two, bed five,” she told him. “He’s been assessed for regen.”
“I’ve got experience in field care in that area. I can handle the treatment if you don’t mind an extra pair of hands.”
Karen narrowed her eyes, the faint hint of crow’s feet deepening at the corners. “Legally, I should say no.”
Trevor smiled at her in a way his nana always said could get him whatever he wanted. “Probably, but I was a medic in the Recon Marines for years and I kind of have a soft spot for first responders.”
It stemmed from a career running toward the threat, not away. Anyone who would prioritize their patient’s life over their own was someone Trevor would always respect.
Karen jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Go. The doctor will be with you in a bit. Don’t start the regen treatment without them, but you can patch up Kane’s other injuries if he hasn’t already done so himself. The extra hands are appreciated.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“You can pay me after you graduate and earn a white coat. Until then, follow the doctor’s orders.”
Trevor nodded, resisting the urge to salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her mouth quirked into a barely-there smile before smoothing out into the firm mask of a nurse whose job it was to keep the ER running smoothly. Considering emergency rooms were spaces filled with controlled chaos, that was a feat unto itself.
Trevor hurried down the long hall that led to medical rooms and operating theaters. He located the room in question and knocked on the sliding door as a warning before palming it open. “Brendan?”
The paramedic sat on the biobed, his partner nowhere to be seen. The blond blinked at him, interrupted from trying to unpeel the backing of a quick-heal patch. He looked exhausted, and Trevor wished he could take Brendan home with him to ensure he got some rest.
