Chapter One

Shannon

 

“I swear, this shift is never going to end.”

 

I picked up the chart for the next patient I needed to check in on and blew a loose strand of hair from my face. The tight bun I had my short curls bound in was starting to come unraveled, which usually signaled the end of the shift was nearing, but I still had half a shift left. Evening shifts at St. Jude’s Sacred Mission Hospital were good for a few motor vehicle accidents and at least one trauma case – thanks to the neighborhood biker presence.

 

Death Angels.

 

At least half their name was accurate. I never saw anything angelic about them. Their members ran rough and didn’t seem to care about their surrounding community or anything else outside their club walls. Staying clear of them was the smartest thing anyone in town could do.

 

“It will be over soon enough.” Tracy, my coworker and closet friend, grabbed her open can of soda and took a sip. “What I wouldn’t give for some real caffeine. Like an espresso.” She sighed and closed her eyes in mock fantasy.

 

“Did you check on room 407?” I asked, casting a shadowed gaze down the hall to the closed door.

 

Behind it laid our floor’s mystery man. No name, no identification on him at time of arrival, and he’d barely been conscious enough for anyone to get any information out of him.

 

“Not yet, but when I did my rounds earlier, he was sleeping. Didn’t even stir when I took his blood pressure. I can’t believe you haven’t been peeking in on him.” Tracy leaned back in her chair, watching the monitor for any incoming messages.

 

Although night shifts killed my sleeping habits, at least I didn’t have to deal with family members and overzealous new doctors. Most of the docs did their rounds during the day; it was rare to see one on the floor past eight o’clock, and visiting hours had ended already. So, unless a patient called us, we were able to get through our shift without intense drama.

 

“Why would I do that? He’s a patient just like the rest on this floor. Just because he happens to be a little attractive doesn’t change that.” I rustled through charts to find a particular log I wanted to review.

 

“A little attractive? Shit. Shannon, he’s hot. I mean, sizzling hot. Didn’t you see those abs on him? The tats? I mean, it’s like the devil himself created that man.”

 

I gave her a look. “Exactly. The devil. He’s dangerous. And stupid. He completely wrecked his bike from what I hear. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet, his brains would have been all over the pavement. He’s lucky he only has those deep cuts on his arms and some bruised ribs.”

 

Tracy stared at me with a plastered grin on her face.

 

“What?” I asked when Tracy continued to keep quiet.

 

“So, you don’t find him interesting, yet you know all of his injuries?”

 

“Shut up.” I tossed a file on the counter and pushed up from my chair. “I’m going to get a bag of chips from the vending machine. I have a taste for something salty. You want?”

 

Tracy looked at her watch. “No thanks. I think I might run down for a smoke. Can you cover me for a few minutes? Sharon and Marie should be back from their rounds soon.”

 

I sighed. “Sure. Anything I need to do?”

 

“Yeah.” Tracy’s smile widened. “Room number 407 needs to be looked in on. He probably needs a new IV bag.”

 

“Tracy,” I said with warning.

 

“You can thank me later.” Tracy winked and grabbed her pack of Marlboro lights from her bag in the bottom drawer and jogged off.

 

I glanced at the call screen. Room 406 needed something. I would take care of that patient first, then I would peek in on 407. Midnight – Tracy had taken to calling him ‘Midnight’ when he’d been officially tagged as ‘John Doe’. Aside from the fact that he’d been brought in close to that time on the night of his accident, a day ago, he had a large tattoo on his back. Just a simple black square surrounded by rose stems entwined around it.

 

After helping the patient in 406 to the washroom and back to bed, I went in to see about Midnight. The room fell silent once the door closed, aside from the faint beeping of the heart monitor. He laid in the bed closest to the window, and the curtain was pulled across. No one could see him from the door. I made a note to ask Tracy why she’d keep the curtain drawn like that if he was alone in the room and unconscious, and made my way to the bed.

 

Standing at the foot of his bed, I stared at him. His hair, dark and wavy, had a tussled quality to it, like fingers had been run through it recently. Tracy really needed to keep her hands to herself.

 

He’d been put in a hospital gown, but it didn’t do much to hide his physique – broad-chested and muscled everywhere. The dark tats running up and down both arms also gave him more of a dangerous-mysterious quality.

 

I walked to the side of the bed, checking his IV. Perfectly fine. Tracy had such a nose for troublemaking.

 

“Well, you don’t really need anything, do you?” I said to my sleeping patient.

 

His chest rose and feel so evenly, so peacefully, it almost made me forget how he ended up in the bed. And what all those dark tattoos could mean.

 

“Maybe I could get you a beer? Help you find your gun? Do you carry a gun?” I asked him, resetting the IV drip and checking all the connections. “Of course you do. I doubt someone as hard-looking as you doesn’t own one.”

 

I pulled back the bandage on the wound on his arm. It would need redressing in the morning, but it could make it through the night well enough.

 

“And you are so hard-looking.” I glanced at his torso. Even through the hospital gown, I could tell the man was ripped. I sighed. This man could be dangerous, murderous even, but it really didn’t take any appeal away from him. Tracy was right. He was delicious.

 

I patted his hand, letting myself take an extra second to feel the warmth of his rough hands… What those things could probably do to my body.

 

“You have no idea, sweetheart,” a throaty voice said and his hand wrapped around my wrist.