Ian watched the paramedics try to stem the bleeding. "Damn it. When I call you, I expect you to answer. Look, I need you to haul ass over to University."
Hunter let out a heavy sigh. "Who's hurt? I was notified everyone got home safe."
Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. "All personnel are fine. A woman was stabbed at a charity dinner tonight."
"Patient name?" Hunter buttoned his shirt and grabbed his hospital ID.
"Cassie Ellis Modine."
"I'll call ahead. I'm on my way," Hunter said, stepping into his shoes.
* * *
Ian felt helpless. The paramedics looked like they were losing the battle. Cassie's blood painted the sheets and floor red. When the female paramedic inserted a tube into her throat to help her breathe, blood and pink froth overflowed from it.
The male paramedic pressed a large needle into the vein in her neck. Handing Ian the bag of fluid, the medic ordered, "Squeeze this slow and steady." He covered her chest wounds as best he could with a plastic film. Cassie's heart beat to a strange staccato rhythm on the monitor. "Starting compressions," he announced.
Ian lurched as the ambulance slammed to a halt. A doctor and two nurses met them at the bay. "Is she allergic to anything?" a redheaded nurse asked.
"Penicillin," Ian said. He'd seen her old medical records.
The male medic straddled her on the stretcher as they rushed her into a trauma room. "Twenty-eight-year-old female, member of service, multiple stab wounds, left EJ, two liters in, intubated, CPR, five minutes, and counting." The female medic continued to breathe for Cassie.
Kyle Jones, a former linebacker and now ER physician, blocked Ian's entry. Numb, Ian stood in the hallway after the large doors closed. Brice Walton joined him. Both men stood like statues outside the trauma room doors.
Chapter Twelve
"Four units O neg on the rapid infuser," Kyle yelled. "Cool her down. Thoracotomy tray. Notify surgery we're coming. Trauma panel. Type and cross for ten units."
A choreographed ballet of medical personnel danced around Cassie. What was left of her exquisite dress and her lace La Perla underwear landed in bloody piles on the floor. The sounds of the saw cutting through her chest filled the room.
Kyle's gloved hands reached inside her body. It was a Hail Mary pass. He lay down a bedding of stitches over two small arteries and packed her chest with absorbent pads. Her body weakly responded to the interventions. "We have a heartbeat. Tell the OR we are coming now."
* * *
After Cassie was rolled out into the corridor, a nurse approached the growing group. "Gentlemen, there's a waiting room by the surgical unit. Sirs, are you hurt?"
Ian noticed why she appeared so worried—he and Brice were covered with Cassie's blood. Both shook their heads. "I can show you a place to get cleaned up. Come with me." She gave them a reassuring smile.
* * *
By the time Monique reached the emergency room waiting area, it was filling with law enforcement officers and the curious. Media began camping out front. Word traveled fast in the Beltway, mainly when a high-profile stabbing occurred in time for the nightly news broadcasts.
Kieran Chase, a smaller, slimmer version of his brother, made his way inside, bypassing hospital security with ease. Monique jumped when he pulled her into his muscled arms. Seizing her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, he captured her with eyes as intense as his brother's. Monique ran her fingers through his jet-black hair, cut in a military high and tight.
"Where's Ian?" Kieran nodded at Colby and Jason.
Monique held on to him. "I haven't seen him yet. He went in the ambulance with her."
* * *
Ian had clean hands, but he was still covered in blood as he joined Kieran and Monique. "What can I do?" Kieran asked.
Ian sat down to take a minute to put his head together, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Moments later, Julian ambled over. Despite working around the clock on the Louisiana rescue, he arrived prepared—no questions asked. His Cajun accent cut through the tension. "Boss, she's been moved to OR 1. She is alive. That pretty, youngfilleover there said they opened her chest in the emergency room—a last-ditch effort. According to her, there's a whole bunch of men in tuxedos and suits in the surgical waiting room on two."
A young nurse with braided blonde hair blushed as she exited through a set of double doors. The man with a sexy French accent could con a nun out of her panties. He kept the fact he was a widower and rarely dated a secret from most.
