Chapter 31
Splice
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” - Seneca
Boston, MA, USA – March 16th, 7:00 PM
Blood seeps between her fingers. Anna presses down harder. The joints in her fingers grind. Her arms tremble.
“Lift on the count of three.” Dr. Schwartz orders like a general. One—the wound pulses against Anna’s hand. Two…inhale…three…exhale.
“Lift!”
Anna moves her hand. No one breathes.
“Clamp on.” Dr. Schwartz ties off the artery.
Anna steps back. The monitors beep steadily. “Blood pressure stabilized. Heart rate is high, but steady.”
The rush of victory replaces the adrenaline high as Dr. Schwartz closes the patient. Under the fluorescent lights, Anna scrapes off a flake of her survivor’s guilt. How many lives need to be saved to pay off the debt for the one she stole?
Alarms go off.
“Defib.” Dr. Schwartz’s voice rises over the chaos. Anna secures the electrodes to the man’s chest.
“Clear.”
“He’s flatlining.”
“Again. Clear.”
“No response.”
“Again.”
Anna wills the ECG line on the monitor to spike. It refuses.
“Mark the time of death at 8:17 PM.”
Anna examines the man on the bed: dark hair, an unlined face, and a permanent tan from working outdoors year-round. Life beats down everyone—but it sucks being knocked out in the fifth round.
She lifts the sheet over his head.
***
Crumpled, blood-stained paper fills the bag. Anna yanks the ties on the garbage bag and unrolls a fresh sheet for the next patient.
“At least he was an organ donor.” Harlow tosses the used needles into the bio-hazard box. “Someone is thanking God today.”
Is that what she’s supposed to do? Anna’s chest tightens. That’s like being punched in the face and told to be grateful because your attacker hands you an ice pack. The price of some prayers is too high.
Anna peels her gloves. “Room’s done. Let’s get the next patient.”
***
In the glow of the street lights, light rain turns the sidewalks into a minefield of brown slush. Anna hisses as water soaks her sneakers—the perfect ending to a crappy day. At least the shock woke her up. She’d better get caffeine before driving home.
A car pulls up alongside the curb. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
Anna hesitates, “I have my car.”
Turner steps out and opens the passenger door. “You’re in no condition to be on the road. Do you want to cause an accident? The hospital’s overtime budget is already depleted.”
Anna slides into the warmed leather seat. Turner adjusts the heat settings so hot hair blows on her feet.
“How was work today?” She leans back against the headrest.
“Had a successful transplant today.”
“My loss, your win,” Anna mutters, the weight of the day forcing her eyes closed.
***
Damnit— the bastard blocked him again. Ryan follows behind Turner’s Porsche. He drove straight from the airport, arriving just in time to see Anna getting into the other man’s car.
He steps on the gas. The reports he received while he was overseas said she and Turner haven’t had any contact outside the hospital. It’s the doc’s bad luck if he thinks that will change tonight. If he touches what isn’t his, it will be a devastating loss to the medical community. A surgeon is useless without his hands.
Ryan’s hands choke the wheel. If greedy opportunists hadn’t created a mess with the trade routes, Anna would be sitting next to him right now. Two cars ahead, the Porsche changes lanes. Ryan cuts off the minivan on his right, not letting them out of his sight.
Even though the war between the Petrovs and the Orlovs caused some unexpected delays, the Balkans import and export market is now under his control. It’s time to focus on domestic business. He slows down as he gets off the highway.
The arrangements to ease into Anna’s life have been finalized. She’ll see he has the power to ensure no one ever lays a hand on her again—then she’ll fall into his.
***
The hum of the engine cuts off, dragging Anna out of a foggy half-sleep. She rubs the sore spot on her neck. “Thanks for the ride.”
She opens the door before Turner makes it around to her side of the car.
“What time is your shift? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“I’ll take the train or hitch a ride with Zoey.”
“Anna.”
She feels a tug on her hand.
“You can lean on me.”
Anna looks down at their intertwined fingers. Shouldn’t she feel butterflies in her stomach? She wonders if he made a mistake during her surgery. Maybe she is heartless.
“Turner, I…You…”
A sports car pulls into the drive.
“What are you doing here?” Anna steps back. She tries to distance herself from Turner, but he still has a grip on her hand.
Ryan’s dark eyes narrow on Turner. “I was driving by and noticed someone bothering you.”
“Doesn’t seem like your neighborhood?” Turner challenges.
Ryan cocks his head, “What’s your point?”
Shit. This is getting out of hand. Anna shakes off Turner, inserting herself between them, but her five-foot-three-inches is hardly a barrier. “I’m fine.”
Ryan places a hand on her shoulder. “Since I’m here, why don’t we catch up?”
His touch feels like a branding despite her thick winter coat. Anna resists the urge to shrink back. Indifference is the only weapon she has.
“We were talking.” Turner interrupts.
The grip on Anna’s shoulder tightens. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Anna forces herself not to look back at Turner. He’s a natural knight in shining armor, wielding a scalpel to save her life and shielding her ever since. She can’t risk him.
“No.” Anna shrugs. “Just colleagues.”
Ryan lets go of her; he crosses his arms, his lips curl in a smirk at Turner. “Thanks for taking her home. We won’t hold you up.”
“You first.” Turner insists.
“We’ve got catching up to do.” Ryan turns his attention back to Anna.
What the hell? Is Turner trying to paint a target on his back? And there is no way she is letting Ryan in the house. These men need to go.
“I’m tired.” Anna breaks in. “You can both leave.”
Neither one budges. She might as well be talking to a couple of bricks. Her chin juts, and a spark flares in her eyes. She steps forward.
Strong arms encircle her, pulling her onto her tiptoes. She arches back. He leans forward, pushing her off balance. She clenches the soft leather of his jacket. A hand brushes her cheek. His thumb strokes her lips, barely separating his from hers.
A low voice caresses her ear, enunciating each word with precision. “Do you need help?”
Anna pulls him closer, steadying herself. “Bú.”
She steps out of Kang’s arms. She doesn’t have the energy to wonder how he got here. She looks between the three men. She is done, done with today and with them.
Without another word, she marches into the house. The door slams, cracking through the night.
***
The thump of gloves hitting the pads can’t smooth the edge off Ryan’s frustration. “What is he doing here?” He misses the mitt. His fist strikes Li’s chin, snapping his head back.
“You should have done the job right the first time.” Ryan shakes out his hand. Li spits blood into a towel.
The image of Anna in Kang’s arms taunts Ryan. He recognized the possessive warning. It was as subtle as a gun in his face.
“Do you want me to remove your competition?” Li’s eyes flicker over the tension in Ryan’s face. He increases the speed of the targets.
“Competition? He’s a washed-up soldier.” Ryan spits out through his ragged breath. Sweat stings his eyes. “He…isn’t…close to…my level.”
Drained, Ryan grabs a towel. Cool logic replaces his rage. “He can’t stay in the USA long— three, maybe six months max.”
“He doesn’t seem the type to take a vacation.” Li wipes down the equipment.
“Contact our man inside the Hangzhou Customs.” Ryan orders. “Find out what Kang is up to.”
“Yes, sir.” Li nods.
Countless scenarios run through Ryan’s head. With Kang as an x-factor, the game has gotten more interesting. Ryan sheds his sweat-soaked T-shirt. Let’s play.
End of Book 1
If fated to meet, no distance can keep you apart… but some red threads are twined by blood and tears.
I hope you enjoyed the ride so far. This marks the end of Book 1. I’m going to work on editing to send to publishers before starting Book 2. Stay tuned for more updates in the Repercussions world. There is also a spin-off story in the works centering on the other victims in the container.