Southerin Nights and Secrets (Boys are Back in Town) Page 4

  “No way. Not a chance. That stuff keeps me sane after the shit I see here every day.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “The Board should just hire a bunch of robots if that is what they want.”

  “You wondered why Mr. Bent doesn’t consider you team leader material and I’m telling you.” She sighed, indecision dancing across her features as she debated in her mind. When she spoke her expression was a tad bit softer. “I need the full report on what happened today on my desk. Now. Mr. Bent will want me to brief him in the morning. He didn’t appreciate your ‘heroics’…his words, not mine.”

  “That guy won’t be happy until he has me neutered.” Bent wouldn’t even be in his job if his dad hadn’t donated a shit load of money to the right people and they both knew it. Beck had earned his chops the hard waythe honest way—and that seemed to be what pissed Bent off the most. “I’ll send you the report on what happened in the next couple of hours. Thanks, Ginger.”

  “Dr. Sutherland.” She stopped in her retreat, giving him what could only be described as the Navy SEAL hairy eyeball. She’d always levied it at him when she was pissed and when he’d met her dad, he knew where she’d gotten it.

  “Call me Beck.”

  “Dr—”

  “Okay, Beckett. It’s what you used to call me. Do it as a sign of good faith.”

  “Fine…Beckett.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you keep calling me Ginger, you won’t have to worry about Mr. Bent neutering you. I’ll do it myself.”

  “Got it.”

  He waited until she turned away before he let the grin take over his face.

  Chapter Four

  He was the world’s worst boyfriend but Beckett was a damn fine doctor and it killed her to have to admit it.

  Looking around the bustling ER, Virginia observed the perfectly orchestrated choreography of the staff, their professionalism and dedication supporting the statistics that proved how effective they were at saving lives. For the past three days, she’d spent a lot of time down here observing how things worked in the Level One Trauma Center. This was a good hospital in every department, but this section was the crown jewel.

  And Beckett Sutherland was the undisputed Crown Prince.

  The staff loved himeven when he yelled at them in the heat of it all. He kept his cool, was decisive and brilliant in his approach to getting the patient stable and to a place where they had a fighting chance. Constantly in motion, he attacked every problem and issue with an unending well of energy she recognized from their time together.

  His bedside manner was natural, and she couldn’t help comparing it to the doctors who’d treated her mother over the years. It wouldn’t have changed the reality of the diagnosis, but it would have been damn nice to feel like someone really gave a shit. Beckett was good at looking like he gave a shit.

  No. That wasn’t fair. He did care. All she had to do was remember the look in his eyes when he’d told her about Marcus and she knew it was the real deal. Beckett cared deeply about his patients and their families.

  Butand with Beckett his file was full of “buts”he was brash, often did things off protocol and constantly pushed the absolute outer limits of what was acceptable in a corporate, litigation averse world. He played it so close to the edge that it wasn’t even in the same zip code as the gray area. From his records, he was a maverick that slept with the staff and had no compulsion to even try to get along with the corporate side of the house. The animosity between Beckett and Mr. Bent was damn close to legendary.

  In short, Beckett reminded Virginia of her father in every aspect, and she’d spent a lifetime living with the chaos he created and cleaning up the debris. She didn’t want to do that again.

  He should be a no-brainer choice for the team lead position but his unpredictable behavior undermined his chances.

  She didn’t trust Beckett. Bottom line. He was clearly the worst choice for the team leader position.

  But she wanted him. No reason to lie about that to herself but it sure as hell made her want to push him as far away from her as possible.

  “Can I help you?”

  Virginia turned, coming face-to-face with the ER nurse, Trish Prentiss. Highly competent, Trish was often on schedule with Beckett, and they worked as an efficient team.

  “I was looking for Dr. Sutherland.”

  “He’s in exam room three”—the other woman leaned in to continue in a lower tone—“he’s got a patient with FMPS, but he should be out soon.”

  “FMPS?” She wracked her brain for what that meant. She was no doctor but years spent working in the medical field had familiarized her with most terminology.

  “Fluff My Pillow Syndrome.” Trish laughed, her blue eyes lit up with glee as she almost cackled in delight at whatever this situation held for Beckett. “Women come in here with a minor complaint, and once they’re feeling better they take one look at Dr. McHottiepants and start making goo-goo eyes. Before you know it they’re fixing the hairdo and asking for him to help them get comfortable.”

  “Oh.” She paused, suddenly noticing the deep rumble of his voice followed by a girlish giggle drifting out of the exam room in question. “What does Dr. Sutherland do about this?”

  “Do? He eats it up. Beck flirts right back…” Trish looked down at her clipboard before looking at her with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to run to administer these meds, but I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”

  She nodded at the other woman, watching as she hurried, stopping briefly to relay the promised message. Virginia turned away, her eyes caught by the arrival of an ambulance in front of the large double doors. Staff raced over and immediately got to work on the patient.

  “Trish said you were looking for me.”

  Virginia didn’t need to look to know who it was. She’d know Beckett’s voice in the middle of a shouting crowdjust a hint of his deep drawl made her skin tingle like she’d just come into a warm room from the cold. She hated every bit of the reaction.

  She turned, his cocky grin making his dimple stand out against the scruff of a couple days of beard. He leaned on the counter of the nurses’ station, confidence fitting him as well as the dark T-shirt and jeans partially hidden under his white lab coat. Forget the docs on that primetime TV show where angst was a terminal illness, Beckett could serve as the leading man in anyone’s “playing doctor” fantasies. She was immediately irritated by her reaction and lashed out with the first thing that came to mind.

  “She was just describing your exemplary bedside manner with female patients.” It was a low blow, and she knew it the moment it slipped past her lips. He slept with co-workers, but there had never been a whisper of him being inappropriate with a patient. She was irritated.

  “I don’t sleep with patients,” he stated, his dark eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them.

  “But you’ve got to realize that sleeping with work colleagues poses a certain danger to your professional goals, Dr. Sutherland.”

  “Jesus. You sound like one of those crappy HR videos about never telling a dirty joke and not drinking too much at the Christmas party.” He moved closer, the movement slight but enough to block out the people around them and increase the intimacy factor one or two notches. Combine that with the smile barely tugging at his full lips, and she felt heat crawl over her skin. “I thought we agreed that you would call me Beckett.”

  Fine. He wanted it straight, he’d get it straight.

  “Beckett. You can’t just screw your way through the hospital and expect to get promoted to ER Team Leader.” She shook her head, still as baffled by this man today as she was nine years ago. “Sooner or later you’re going to get an EEO complaint hurled at you. In case you slept through the crappy HR videos, sexual harassment is not the a key to anyone’s success.”

  He took another step closer, his anger and agitation causing his features to sharpen. He leaned over and responded in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

 
“That would be total bullshit. First, I haven’t screwed my way through the hospital.” He raised his hand for her to stop when she opened her mouth to contradict the obvious. “I’ve slept with consenting, adult colleagues who were completely on board with how it would go down.”

  “I don’t think we want to get into actually counting how many of the staff you have slept with in this hospital. Don’t bullshit someone who knows you.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? She never had known him at all. If she had she wouldn’t have been so ripped open when he moved on. But that really wasn’t the point.

  “It doesn’t have to be true. Just one accusation could ruin your career.” She made sure he was looking right at her when she told him the one message she hoped he got loud and clear. “And the committee won’t care how good a doctor you are if it happens.”

  He stared her down, the little tick in his jaw giving away his inner turmoil. If he was still the same Beckett she remembered he’d turn this around to a joke or another topic altogether. It was frustrating. The charm was fun and useful in a tough situation, but it blocked the real guy hidden underneath.

  “Fuck.” Beckett broke eye contact, looking around the ER and running his fingers in the hair just behind his left ear, leaving it rumpled and sexy. She had to clench her hands to resist reaching up and smoothing the unruly waves down into a less enticing curl. When he returned to meet her gaze, his fingers wrapped around her own, a quick squeeze emphasizing his point. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  It was hard to focus on responding in a grammatically correct manner with the warmth of his skin against her own.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Second ticked by as they stood, hands intertwined, eyes searching for answers that neither was willing to give at this point.

  “So you think I’m a good doctor?”

  The grim set of his mouth, eased into a grin calculated to tease one of her own and she relented a little, unwilling to break even this small détente between them.

  She should really pull her hand away, to break the connection, but she didn’t. In fact, to her horror she found her fingers twining even closer with his when he shifted their grasp and tugged her closer. Virginia didn’t resist, the warmth of his body reaching out to touch her, the scent of his skin—masculine and earthy—tempting her to lean in even closer.

  She found her words, realizing that he was waiting for an answer. “Yes, I think you’re a good doctor.”

  “But not a good man?”

  “I…”

  Beck stepped even closer, leaning into her, his legs pressing against her own, the rough fabric of the denim causing the bare skin of her leg exposed by her short skirt to tingle. His voice was low, almost a whisper that she felt hum along her marrow.

  “I’d like the chance to prove you wrong.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sure you do.” He smiled, his dimple drawing her gaze away from his eyes for a split second. “Just like I want to know how you’ve changed over the last nine years.”

  Virginia opened her mouth to answer, to agree to his request because she damn well was curious to see what all these years had done to Beckett Sutherland. She’d have to be dead to not want to know.

  “We need help! Somebody fucking help out here!”

  The sound of a man’s voice, loud, angry, and urgent rang out from the waiting room. Beckett whirled around, all of the ease from a few seconds before disappearing like Clark Kent vanished in any available phone booth.

  “Sir. You can’t just come back here.”

  The crowd in the trauma center had parted, allowing the progress of the screaming man and the woman he held against his side. Even at this distance, Virginia could see the blood—ungodly amounts of it, too—on both of them. It was difficult to see which one was hurt the worst.

  “Move the fuck out of my way and get Beck Sutherland out here. Now!”

  Beckett’s back snapped to attention at the sound of his name, his spine a rigid pole of tension under the white lab coat but he didn’t rush forward like Virginia expected. He just stood there, hands clenched at his sides as he locked eyes with the man who quieted down almost immediately. As if they knew something major was going down, everyone around them stilled, looking between the two of them—waiting for whatever was going to happen.

  Virginia’s gut tightened, a frisson of apprehension tickling the back of her neck. She was so tuned into the events unfolding before her that she jumped when Beckett finally spoke, his voice loud and angry.

  “Get them in a room now.” When no one hustled at his orders, he shouted even louder. “Get off your asses and move it. Now.”

  Staff scuttled around, the hush dissipating like vapor with the shuffle of shoes on the hard floor and the bustle of getting the injured people into an empty.

  “Dr. Sutherland.” Virginia stopped, correcting herself when she got no reaction. “Beckett.”

  He turned his head, eyes roiling with a myriad of emotions, none of them good. His jaw was tight, any resemblance to the cocky man of a few moments earlier, long gone.

  “What?”

  “Do you know that man?”

  The moments ticked by as he stared, dragging out the tension enough where she worried if he would answer her at all.

  “Yeah. I know him.”

  “Who is he?” She prodded, knowing he wasn’t going to offer the information voluntarily.

  “He’s my father.”

  With that hanging in the air between them, Beckett turned and headed toward the waiting patient while she stood by, dumb and clumsy with shock. She couldn’t believe what he’d revealed, blowing away another set of her memories like they were just tissue paper wisps of a younger woman’s romantic imaginings. But now she knew that Beckett was just as she remembered him. Untrustworthy. Cagey. A liar.

  Because she distinctly remembered him telling her that his father was dead.

  Chapter Five

  Beck was good at compartmentalizing when the shit hit the fan.

  It was gift. It was a trick of self-preservation, allowing him to do something as simple as make a sandwich while staying alert enough to avoid his father’s flying fists.

  Now he used the ability to examine the woman writhing on the table, clutching at her left side with hands slick with blood and still try to figure out what the hell Sandy Sutherland was doing back in Elliott.

  “Ma’am,” he said as he slipped on latex gloves and placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to calm down with his touch. “I’m Dr. Sutherland, and I’m going to need to look at your injury.”

  He paused, waiting patiently as she turned to look at him, her eyes filled with pain. She nodded, and he reached down to pry her hands away as gently as he could, unsurprised with the rigidity of her fingers. Shock was settling in.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Alison,” the woman sucked in a breath when he lifted her shirt away from the wound. “Alison Chase.”

  “Okay Alison, you want to tell me what happened?”

  “She was shot,” Sandy Sutherland ground out from the opening of the treatment area. His tone matched his “Are you fucking stupid?” expression and Beck couldn’t deal with his bullshit right now.

  “Sir, you can go to the waiting room. I’ll be out to talk to you when I’m done here.”

  “No.”

  Beck bristled at his answer, anger at his father’s refusal making his skin hot and tight. He was damn well not going to listen to him mouth off at him in his own trauma center.

  “Move your ass to the waiting room or I’ll move you myself.” Beck looked over his shoulder, locking into eyes identical to his own. The stare down lasted a few second before his father gave one quick, pissed-off nod and retreated.

  The staff around him were silent, eyes huge and full of questions and none of them meeting his own. He didn’t know how many of them had heard his confession that this man was his sperm donor, but
if even just one had caught that juicy tidbit, the entire hospital would know in a matter of hours. Fuck.

  Ginger was hovering in the door, completely still in the way that only she could achieve, her face devoid of any emotion. But she met his gaze, holding it for a brief second before he turned back to his patient. That conversation would have to wait.

  “Sshh. It’s okay,” he crooned when she cried out a little as he palpated the wound opening, lifting her slightly to look at the exit wound on her back. It was a clean shot and probably missed anything important but he wouldn’t be able to complete treatment here. He glanced over at Trish standing next to the blood pressure monitor, noting that it was low but not to the point that he was urgently concerned about her crashing. “Set up IV fluids, normal saline and Type O neg blood. Push morphine for the pain. Call the MRI team and let’s gets a picture for the trauma surgeon, open an OR, and type and cross for four to six units packed red blood cells.”

  He looked down at Alison, smiling to ease the worry on her face. “I think you’re going to be fine, but we’ll get a surgeon to stitch you up after we make sure that nothing inside was nicked by the bullet. The nurse is going to set up an IV and get some pain meds going for you.” He squeezed her hand. “Getting shot hurts like a bitch. I know from experience.”

  “No shit,” Alison huffed out on a quick laugh which stopped suddenly when her movement caused more pain. “Ouch.”

  “That’s what you get for laughing at me.” He assisted with the IV, wanting to get her comfortable as soon as possible. Trish nodded at him after she emptied the syringe into the port on the IV bag. Alison was going to be happy very soon.

  “Nice bedside manner, Doc,” Alison said, the drugs working their magic enough to give her room to joke a little.

  “Keep it down. My boss is right over there,” he smiled down at her as he took the tablet that Trish held out to him, double checking the information and entering his code for approval. When he looked down again, Alison’s eyes had slipped shut. “I’m going out to the waiting room to talk to my father about what happened. Go with her to MRI and OR, okay?”