Page 14 of Savage Saint

“She did. I heard it,” one of the newer nurses says, dropping her water bottle and orange juice on the table before taking the chair next to me. She’s peppy, full of energy, and her bright pink scrubs with flowers on them match the vibe. “Now hit me. You look seconds away from falling asleep.”

“Diantre, it was a slow and never-ending shift.”

“At least you were smart enough not to tempt the emergency room gods.” I don’t miss the side-eye she sends one of the male nurses walking in at that moment. “I’m new, and even I know that.”

“It was a close call.” I demonstrate it by holding my thumb and pointer finger close together. “Katia threatened me, and I bit back the urge.”

Standing, I groan and stretch, giving myself a moment before handing over my patients—their current needs, what they’re waiting on, and anything she needs to keep an eye on. It wasn’t a busy night by normal standards, and if things stay this quiet, they should have an easy morning.

Once she’s off to make her rounds, I grab my bag and water and head toward the exit when Cari stops me. “Genesis, can you do me a favor, por favor?”

“Does it involve me working another shift today?”

“No.” She laughs, handing me a small gift bag. “Just need you to run this to Anthony in security. He’s working the entrance today, and I missed him yesterday. It’s his birthday gift from me.”

The last part is mumbled under her breath, and I want to laugh so bad, but don’t.

They’re both in their fifties, divorced, and into each other. Flirt on the sly, but we all know.

“Got it. I’ll drop this off and tell him to join you for lunch today at twelve.” Add a wink and a smirk at the end. “Or do you want to call him and ask yourself? I’m your wing woman.”

“Stop it.” Yet she’s smiling. Cheesy too. “You think he’d want to?”

“Absolutely. Leave everything to me.” With that, I head toward my next mission: matchmaking. There are three people in the waiting room when I walk through the lobby; one is grimacing while holding her wrist, and the other seems annoyed by whatever the man with him is saying.

Everyone looks at me, but I’m zeroed in on the man already standing to greet me. He’s smiling, pointing at the bag. “Is that for me?”

“I’m just the delivery girl. Cari wants me to formally ask you to join—” I don’t get to finish as I’m yanked backwards so hard my shoulder jerks, before I’m turned to face a man. One who is dripping with blood. So much of it.

When I walked into the emergency department twelve hours ago, I never thought I’d end my shift with the cold steel of a gun pressed to the side of my head. That I’d be dragged past a too-terrified-to-intervene security guard by a beautiful fallen angel, forced into a waiting car, and then handcuffed—the click of the cuffs trapping me inside his dangerous game.

And through it all, his honey-colored eyes never leave mine…

4

SAINT

PRESENT…

She’s shaking.

Her chest rises and falls fast, jagged little breaths against the fresh, sea-salt morning air as I yank her across the parking lot. I keep a firm hold on her, and the scent of hospital bleach scrapes against my senses, but it’s the sweet notes beneath that make me inhale deeply. It’s warm and decadent, a touch of honeyed mango, and completely out of place with the smell of exhaust fumes clinging to me.

Then there’s the lack of fight in her.

No screaming. No crying.

Even as my fingers dig into her soft skin, forcing her forward, the beautiful little medic doesn’t look away from me. The slip of a woman takes me in without flinching, cataloguing the blood stains on my hands and cut…

Precision. Clinical. Unafraid.

My eyes drop for a second, catching her name beneath the hospital logo:

Genesis Romero, Lic. En Enfermeria

Now the short medic has a name. Pretty, but I’m more impressed by her lack of panic.

Even as her breathing grows choppy, sweat beading at her temple, she doesn’t give in. If anything, she’s too focused on me as I drag her across the parking lot instead of looking for someone willing to help.