Chapter 2 - THE ORDER NO ONE EXPECTED
The first thing the stranger did was refuse to die.
Not because he was brave.
Not because his men were standing beyond the glass threatening everyone who came near him.
But because when his pulse weakened and the monitor began alarming, he caught Emma Richardson's wrist and said, very clearly, "Not tonight."
Emma stared at him.
"Then stop trying to sit up."
His mouth twitched.
Even bleeding out, the man apparently found her amusing.
Dr. Chen pressed another dressing against the abdominal wound.
"Emma, call the trauma surgeon again. Tell them we need the operating room ready immediately."
The gray-haired bodyguard appeared in the doorway.
"He's not going upstairs."
Emma turned.
"Then he might not live to see sunrise."
The bodyguard's expression became murderous.
She didn't move.
Dr. Chen stepped forward.
"The abdominal injury requires surgical assessment. We cannot safely treat an internal gunshot wound by simply stitching the skin. He needs imaging and, depending on what we find, an operation."
The wounded man closed his eyes.
Then he opened them again and looked at the bodyguard.
"Tomas."
"Boss."
"Let them work."
"But—"
"That's an order."
For the second time that night, Tomas obeyed.
And the man who frightened half of Chicago was wheeled toward surgery while Emma ran beside him, one gloved hand holding pressure against his wound.
His fingers reached toward her sleeve.
"Your name."
"Emma."
"Last name."
"Richardson."
He studied her face.
"Remember me, Emma Richardson."
She looked down at him.
"Survive first. Then we'll discuss your social calendar."
He laughed.
It became a cough.
Then his eyes closed.
The operation lasted three hours and twenty-six minutes.
The surgical team controlled the internal bleeding and removed the retained bullet. Emma assisted as part of the perioperative nursing team when her duties were reassigned, watching the surgeons work under bright lights while the clock moved toward dawn.
The man had survived the initial injury by a margin so narrow it frightened even Dr. Chen.
Seventy-two sutures were counted across the repairs and closures documented by the surgical team.
By the time Emma finished the required records, her legs felt made of glass.
She was washing her hands when Dr. Chen appeared.
"He's alive."
Emma closed her eyes.
"Thank God."
"He's asking for you."
She laughed tiredly.
"He should be asking for pain medication."
"Apparently, he has other priorities."
The stranger was awake in a monitored recovery room.
He looked paler without the bloody shirt, his dark hair disordered against the pillow.
Tomas stood beside the door.
This time he didn't threaten her.
He stepped aside.
Emma approached the bed.
"You're supposed to rest."
The man's eyes followed her.
"You saved my life."
"The surgical team saved your life."
"You were the first person who touched me."
"That's generally what happens when somebody arrives bleeding in an emergency department."
He smiled faintly.
Then held out his hand.
"Julian Vescari."
Emma went still.
She knew the name.
Everybody in Chicago knew the name.
Julian Vescari controlled shipping interests, restaurants, private security companies, and allegedly a criminal network that police had spent years trying to dismantle.
His photograph appeared on local news broadcasts at least once a month.
He had been called ruthless.
Untouchable.
A man whose enemies rarely remained enemies for long.
And she'd just spent the night helping keep him alive.
"Wonderful," she muttered.
Julian raised an eyebrow.
"Something wrong?"
"Only that I probably should have charged you extra for the attitude."
His quiet laugh surprised her.
Then his expression changed.
"There's something I want."
Emma folded her arms.
"You're not getting discharged."
"Not that."
"What?"
"Sign your work."
She stared.
"Excuse me?"
"The dressing. The medical record. Something with your name."
"Mr. Vescari, I documented my care because it's my job. I'm not autographing your stitches."
His smile widened.
"Fair enough."
Then the door opened.
A younger security man hurried inside.
"Tomas. We have a problem."
Tomas turned.
"What?"
"Someone accessed the hospital's patient-tracking system. There's already a request to transfer Mr. Vescari."
Emma frowned.
"Transfer him where?"
The guard swallowed.
"Saint Catherine's Private Recovery Center."
Dr. Chen, entering behind him, stopped immediately.
"Nobody from our team authorized that."
Emma looked toward Julian.
His expression turned cold.
"Who requested it?"
The guard hesitated.
"The system says Dr. Chen."
Dr. Chen went pale.
"I didn't."
Silence filled the room.
Then Julian sat forward despite the pain.
"Listen carefully."
Tomas moved closer.
"Boss?"
Julian looked directly at Emma.
And issued the order that would change her life.
"No one is to threaten, follow, bribe, or interfere with Nurse Richardson. Not my men. Not my family. Not even me."
Everyone stared.
Julian continued.
"Preserve every record connected to that transfer request. Notify hospital security and the proper authorities."
Tomas looked astonished.
"You're asking for police involvement?"
Julian's eyes hardened.
"Someone just tried to move me out of the hospital using a doctor's identity."
Then he looked at Emma again.
"And somebody knew exactly which nurse would notice."
Twenty minutes later, Emma received a message from an unknown number.
YOU SAVED THE WRONG MAN.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Her younger brother, Noah.
The photograph was dated yesterday.
Noah had been missing for seven years.
Emma stared at the screen until her knees gave way.
May you like
Because the brother she had buried in her heart was apparently still alive.
And somebody knew where to find him.
