Cocoa Beach detective, Manus Laughlin has stepped into shark infested waters at work. When he and an informant are attacked, he ends up pulling Brooke Collins, an ER nurse under the waters with him. They’ll have to work together to survive and bring the criminals to justice. Behind her half-hearted jabs, the nurse is disturbingly tempting. Even more so when he realizes her bravado is an act to keep her distance. Manus is as determined to break through her barriers as he is to solve his case.
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*****
The nurse turned to leave, but called over her shoulder. “Don’t be surprised if a detective or two stop by.”
“Dr. Crummin already warned me. Thanks.”
Brooke turned back to her patient.
“It looks like you came in on the right night,” she told him. “Dr. Crummin will take excellent care of you and so will I. Why don’t we clean you up a little? I know how uncomfortable dried blood can be. After I get that cleaned up, I’ll get someone to help me put clean linens down for you. Won’t that feel better? I love getting into a freshly made bed. It–”
“Good to know.”
Brooke’s head whipped around at the male voice. Recognition was immediate. Anger quickly followed recognition. A moment later, her nursing instincts kicked in. Detective Laughlin didn’t look well. His suit was torn and dirty, his face bruised and bleeding, and he appeared to be upright through sheer determination. Her professionalism overrode her opinion of people. “What happened to you?”
“Not important,” he said walking to the end of the gurney. She noticed how his fingers wrapped around the edge in a white-knuckled grip as he nodded toward her patient. “He going to make it?”
“He’s still unconscious. You can’t talk to him.”
“Not what I asked, Collins.”
She clenched her jaw at the hard-edged comeback. “I don’t know. Dr. Crummin may be able to give you more information, but I’m just guarding him from anyone who might disturb him.”
Her reference clearly hit its mark if the narrowing of his eyes was any indication.
“He’s alive because … never mind. Just,” he stopped and grabbed the bed with both hands.
Brooke watched the color start to drain from his face and his eyes blinked rapidly. She moved quickly to his side, her hand reflexively going to his wrist for a pulse. He shook her off.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said pulling himself to his full height and turning to the door.
“You should have someone look at that gash over your eye.”
She watched his arm lift, probably checking the cut she mentioned. Having lived around cops and military men most of her life, she figured he probably hadn’t even noticed it except to swipe at the blood messing up his vision.
“It’s fine.” He continued through the door.
She followed him to the door, where he leaned against the frame, crossing his arms. She looked toward the nurse’s station. “Derek,” she called. A male nurse turned and walked over.
“Hey, Brooke, what do you need?”
“Would you please take care of the detective’s injury?”
“No, he won’t. I told you it’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
Brooke glared up at him. “It’s a gash, not a scratch. It probably needs stitches and from the amount of blood on your sleeve. Actually, from the dirt all over your clothes, you could have other injuries as well. You need to be checked over.”
“Look, man, if I stitch you up, there won’t even be a scar,” Derek said.
Brooke felt sorry for her friend when the detective turned his glare in Derek’s direction.
“You, look man, touch me and you’ll need medical attention.” He then turned back to her. “If you think it needs stitches, you can do it, no one else. I’m not leaving this witness unprotected.”
His hard tone was laced with something else. Wariness? Why, she wondered. Does it matter? Detective Laughlin might annoy her, but she doubted he deserved whatever had happened to him. Besides, he was a cop and she knew how hard their job could be. A grin pulled at one side of her mouth as she thought about her detective brother. She had a feeling Laughlin would be as difficult a patient as Tres could be. Cops preferred to be the ones in control, having someone else take care of them didn’t sit well.
“What’s it going to be, Collins?”
Looking back toward the patient in the room. The monitor’s said his vital signs were all steady. As she returned her gaze to the detective, she decided if he was going to stay, it would be better to keep him calm so he didn’t cause her real patient distress.
“I can’t leave this patient, but, if you stay quiet and don’t bother him I’ll take care of it. Sit over there,” she said as she stepped backwards and pointed at a stool. She looked over at Derek who’d stepped just inside the doorway. His raised eyebrows asked her if she was sure. She smiled up at him. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless. Besides, he knows my brothers. He wouldn’t dare hurt me.”
“He knows your brothers but calls you by your last name?”
“That’s a long story we don’t have time for tonight. Would you bring in a tray so I can stitch him up?”
“Sure.”
Derek left the room, but not before sending a hard look Detective Laughlin’s way. Brooke shook her head. When were men going to realize she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? A second later, the memory of a time when she hadn’t acted as if she were capable popped into her head and with it, her desire to argue the point disappeared. She turned back to the angry man sitting a few steps away. Blood dripped on the floor from where he’d wiped at the gash again and increased the blood flow instead of stopping it. After grabbing some gauze from the counter, she stood next to him.
“Please stop. You’re making it worse, not better.” She pressed the gauze to the injury with one hand while holding the back of his head with the other so she could apply more pressure. She felt herself flush when the fact that his hair was much softer than it appeared registered. It was an odd and unwelcome sensation since she hadn’t been interested in dating since before leaving Arkansas. Focus on the job, she told herself clearing her throat. “Does the pressure hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you telling me the truth?” she asked as Derek walked back in.
“Yes.”
“You’re just a fountain of information aren’t you?” she grumbled as she motioned for Derek to pull the stand closer. “Thanks.”
When Derek was gone, Brooke released the back of the detective’s head and lifted the sterile cover from the instruments. After surveying it, she realized she’d need a couple more items, but they would be in the cabinets behind her.
“Can you hold this for a minute?” she asked the detective and his hand came up. He worked his fingers in between hers and Brooke had to stifle a shocked gasp at the contact. Quickly pulling her hand free, she turned to the cabinet and busied herself gathering items. It was an odd and unwelcome sensation given that after her disturbing experience in Arkansas she had sworn off men. Maybe she shouldn’t have done so many double shifts close together. That made more sense. Her system was short-circuiting. When she turned back to face Laughlin, she found him staring at the young man in the bed. Her compassion for friends and family of patients made her want to put his mind at ease. “I wouldn’t say he’s out of the woods, but he is stable.”
“That’s more than I expected.”
Brooke decided to try and distract him. “Can you tell me how you got this injury?”
“The bullet didn’t take me down so they used a two-by-four.”
She gasped and his gaze flew to her face.
“Shit. Sorry, I –”
“You were shot?” she asked, then glanced back at the patient in the bed and lowered her voice. “What are you doing walking around? You should be –”
He held up a hand halting her words. “It hit my vest, I’m fine. Bruised, but fine. I promise.”
“You could have started with that.” She glared at him.
*****
About the Author:
Sandra is the author of three series, totaling more than 15 books. She writes contemporary romantic-suspense. The majority of her stories are located in Colorado because it possesses such a diverse selection of heroes and heroines. In less than a minute you can see a cowboy, an engineer, a lawyer, or a stay-at-home mom/dad. The combinations of characters keeps her very busy. You can also find her characters visiting New York or finding trouble in Florida. These two locations pop up because she grew up in central New York and enjoys vacations at Cocoa Beach.
When she’s not writing you might find her at a sewing machine. Learning to sew at age seven, she enjoyed making clothes for herself and family for years. Now she prefers making quilts for family and friends, though occasionally she will whip out a skirt or two.
Before writing full time she had various jobs. Her employment started as a substitute church secretary when she was in high school and ended as a faculty assistant (aka Copy Lady) in a high school in Colorado with stints as bank secretary, fabric store clerk, and temp secretary in between.
She lives in northern Colorado with her husband and Rudy, their rescue dog from Japan. Her sons are grown and move around the country, but still provide endless inspiration and support for her writing.
Thanks for the amazing post, Charline. Love it!
You’re quite welcome. 🙂