“What happened?” She crunched her brow and grimaced.
“Ellie, you went off the road and struck a tree,” Wes said.
“I can’t see,” she cried out.
“You have glass in your eyes. They’re bandaged. We’re on our way to the ER.” He took her hand.
“You have a nice voice,” she said.
“Thank you.” Beneath the bruising and bandages, she was beautiful. His skin bristled. He shouldn’t have thoughts like this. She was a patient, and she was his employee.
* * *
The ER was packed. Inside the trauma room, Wes stepped back to allow the team to do their job. His new employee was growing more combative as the medical staff came at her from every direction. He saw it coming before the first-year resident. As he moved to catheterize her to get a urine sample, Eleanor worked her right leg free from the backboard and kicked him square in the jaw.
“Get away from me!” A stream of expletives followed.
Two nurses knelt to assist the resident as Wes moved to her side. “Curly, they’re trying to help you.” He placed his hands on her cheeks.
“Save me. Don’t let them hurt me anymore,” she begged.
Wes swallowed hard. A quick memory of another patient flashed through his mind. He hooked his ankle into a metal stool and moved it so he could sit by her head without letting go. “I won’t let that happen, Curly. You took a nasty hit. We need to see if your kidneys or bladder are bleeding.”
“I can go myself,” she insisted.
Wes leaned way back and cleared his throat loudly. “Can we give the patient a chance to go on her own?”
A nurse crossed her arms. “That’s not normal procedure.”
There was always one person on a team who only saw black and white. “Do you want the sample?” Wes frowned.
Another nurse assisted her with a fracture bedpan. It wouldn’t move her spine. Sure enough, Eleanor kept her promise.
“Thank you.” She sniffled.
“Thatta girl. Curly, they won’t let me go with you. The doctors want to move you to the CT scan to take some pictures,” Wes said softly.
She reached a shaking hand for him. Her lips and chin wobbled. “Promise you’ll be here. I’m scared.”
His fingers brushed against her right cheek. “I’ll be right here when they bring you back.”
Eleanor reacted to his voice and appeared to relax. Now calm, the team was able to move her to CT scan.
Wes pulled his phone from his pocket. Christian answered, “I notified Hanlon. He said he’d do the family notification. How is she?”
“She is in serious condition in CT scan and being examined more thoroughly as we speak. Her eyes are loaded with glass. Do me a favor and pick my truck up. Take a look around. I want to know why she went off the road.”
“She could be a bad driver,” Christian said.
“She could.” Wes ended the call as another rang in.
“Tuck Hanlon. What’s her status?” Tuck was the medical facility director for the DC branch of Chase Medical, which also covered the Virginia center.
“Jetta wrapped a tree. From the intrusion, forty-plus miles per hour. I found her conscious with nasty contusions left side of head, left chest, and I’ll assume left side. Her eyes are loaded with broken door glass. I wrapped them. She’s scared to death. Rest of the physical exam unremarkable.”
Beautiful hair and lips made for kissing.
He continued, “Lost consciousness in the move and regained consciousness. She got combative when they tried to cath her—though I think I would too. That’s a whole other story. C-spine and chest x-ray normal, UA negative for blood. Vital signs within normal limits. In CT now.”
