Racing Against the Clock. Lori Wilde

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Racing Against the Clock - Lori Wilde


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a hour,” she warned.

      “Okay, fine. I’ll just go ahead and draw your blood and then carry the specimen to the lab in the syringe. I can put it in the correct tube when I get there.”

      “Thank you.” She beamed at him.

      He wrapped a yellow rubber tourniquet around her arm and palpated a vein in the bend of her elbow. “Make a fist for me.”

      After drawing her blood, he then put the syringe into a red bag marked with a biohazard chemical emblem.

      It was after eleven o’clock and Danny was getting ready to leave for the night when Tyler walked into the lab.

      “Here’s the blood on Jane Doe,” he said.

      “Lad, your timin’ leaves a lot to be desired,” Danny grumbled good-naturedly and started to shrug out of the coat he’d just put on.

      “No, no, go on. I’ll put it in a purple-top tube and label it for the next shift,” Tyler offered.

      “You’re a saint, you are.”

      “Off with you.”

      Danny headed for the door.

      Tyler removed the syringe from the red plastic bag and took off the needle cap. He started to push the needle into the tube’s rubber stopper but his hand slipped and he accidentally plunged the needle into the pad of his thumb.

      “Yeow!”

      “What’s the matter?” Danny turned back and paled when he saw the syringe of blood protruding from Tyler’s thumb.

      “I slipped.”

      “Ah, Laddie. I shouldna let you done that,” Danny castigated himself. “It’s my job.”

      “It’s not a big deal,” Tyler said, trying to appear casual when his heart was racing. He’d just been stuck with a patient’s blood and he didn’t even know her HIV status.

      Jane Doe wasn’t HIV positive.

      How do you know? Just because you don’t want her to have AIDS doesn’t make it so. Her blood work is abnormal.

      Danny took the syringe and blood tube away from Tyler. “Go wash up at the sink and mind you fill out an incident report on this. You’ll have to get tested and so will she.”

      “Yeah, yeah.” Tyler washed his hands at the sink and tried his best to ignore his throbbing thumb. He would live.

      But would his beautiful mystery woman?

      By the time the X-ray technician wheeled her back to the emergency room, Hannah was more than ready to see the last of Saint Madeleine’s. A knock sounded on the door and she looked up to spy Tyler standing in the doorway, a blue scrub suit in his hands and a smile hovering at his lips.

      “Ready to go?” he asked.

      She nodded, relieved. “Do I need to go to the billing office?” she asked. “It’s going to be tough. I don’t have any identification. To be honest, I don’t know if I have health insurance or not.”

      This was the truth. After her run-in with Daycon, she figured her old boss would not be inclined to pay her medical bills. Especially since he would rather cover her funeral expenses instead, but not until he got his hands on Virusall.

      “Don’t worry about it.” Tyler said. “I’ve already checked you out of the hospital.”

      “How did you accomplish that feat?”

      “I told them I would be responsible for your bill.”

      “Dr. Fresno,” she protested, “I can’t allow you to do that.”

      He raised his palms. “Shhh. I have more money than I know what to do with. We’ll discuss it later. Right now you need a warm bath, a hot meal and a good night’s sleep. Hopefully by morning your memory will have returned and we can piece together what happened to you.”

      “Why would you do this for me?” she asked. “I’m a stranger to you.”

      “I’m curious about your condition. About you.”

      She wasn’t buying it. There was something more. Mere curiosity didn’t cause a man to open his home to someone he did not know.

      “What’s the real reason?” she asked.

      He looked at her for a long moment and she saw a myriad of emotions play across his face. Sorrow, loss, sadness, regret. By helping her, was he assuaging something inside of him? A long ago guilt? A bad choice made? A wrong turn taken? Was he looking for redemption? Who was she to deny him his salvation?

      “A stranger helped me once when I was in deep trouble,” he said quietly. She could tell by the way he held himself that the memory of his troubles still haunted him. “I vowed that I would never turn my back on someone in need. And from my vantage point, you’re looking pretty needy. Besides, you remind me of someone I once knew.”

      His voice caught and Hannah realized then he wasn’t doing this so much for her or even for his own good karma, but for the person that brought the gravelly, emotional sound into his voice. She shouldn’t fight his generosity. She should just accept it as a gift. Why was it so difficult for her to receive help?

      Hannah swallowed hard. “I have trouble taking assistance from people I don’t know.”

      “Ah, trust issues.”

      “You have no idea,” she muttered.

      “I understand. You’re under no obligation to me.” The look on his face was one of utter compassion. He had no ulterior motives. He was simply a nice guy. Why did she have so much trouble accepting that?

      Because no one has ever been kind to you without an ulterior motive.

      “What about the police?”

      “I told them you weren’t available for an interview until tomorrow morning.”

      “What happens tomorrow when they find out I’m not here?”

      “We’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

      A lump formed in Hannah’s throat. She couldn’t believe the kindness of this good doctor. She didn’t deserve to be treated so well, particularly since she was lying to him.

      In that moment, Hannah experienced a premonition, a spooky sensation that sent goose flesh flying up her arms. By agreeing to go off with Dr. Tyler Fresno and evading the police, was she possibly making the gravest mistake of all?

      Chapter 3

      “Are you hungry?” Tyler asked as they left the hospital in his silver BMW.

      It was either early or late, depending upon your definition. The parking lot lay half-empty. The sky was dark and the street lamps exuded a fuzzy golden glow. Hannah had crashed her car around dusk, now it was after midnight.

      “Famished,” she admitted and pressed a palm to her belly. She hadn’t eaten all day. Between the terror of fleeing Daycon’s men, living through a smashup and experiencing a miraculous healing, she was ready for a down-to-earth activity like supper.

      Besides, eating might take her mind of this unexpected twist of sexual desire building at a brushfire pace between she and the good doctor. Being in the car alone with him was causing her to think some very unseemly thoughts. She kept getting a flash of what he might taste like. Warm and sweet, she decided. And deliciously sinful. Like Death By Chocolate dessert.

      You’re just famished. Knock off the fantasy.

      “How are you feeling otherwise?” Tyler fretted. “No nausea, no headaches, no dizziness?”

      “I’m fine except I could eat a hippopotamus.”

      “How about a hamburger instead?” He chuckled and pulled through a drive-through fast-food


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