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Creed, thank god.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Creed is five minutes out. He’ll meet you at the emergency dock. We’re updating our communications with the hospital to let them know there are three patients: a nonresponsive male, a female in shock, and you. Can you tell me the nature of your injury?”
A space opened up in the line of traffic, and Ethan wrestled the bull-headed limo to the far right lane.
“I got cut on glass shards on my left arm and shoulder. I’m not spurting. I don’t need a tourniquet, but there’s quite a bit of blood, and I don’t want to put a pressure bandage on it since it’s broken glass. I’m letting my blood clean out the wounds. I’m turning onto the hospital ramp. I’m good now. Thank you, ma’am, for all your help.”
“With pleasure, Osbourne. You take care. Out.”
He drove to the bay where a group stood in blue scrubs.
They moved Clem to a gurney, and Mrs. Harcourt to a wheelchair.
They had a wheelchair available for Ethan, too.
“Thank you. But I’m going to find a place to park this beast and wait for a handler for my dog. I’ll be in in just a minute.”
“Those cuts are significant, sir.”
“Tango’s a tactical K9. I can’t leave her in the car by herself. It’s against policy. I won’t be long. I promise not to bleed out in your parking lot.” He shot the guy a smile to let him know he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. He wasn’t trying to be a shithead.
Ethan found two empty slots at the end of the emergency parking row that allowed him to drive through. The limo was long, but it wasn’t the stretch variety. Honestly, if the underside had held, it probably wouldn’t have driven much differently than his truck.
A woman in scrubs came out with a wheelchair.
Ethan opened the door and climbed out.
“Hi, I’m Sommer Haze.”
“Ethan Osbourne.”
“I’m a nurse in emergency. I heard you might be creating a biohazard in our parking lot. Our management frowns on that.” She smiled.
Ethan looked over his shoulder at Tango sitting at attention in the back seat. “I can’t go in.”
“Dog,” she said, pulling a pair of nitrile gloves from her pocket. “But I could take a look and get an idea what we’re dealing with.” She lifted his shirt fabric and probed. “Yeah, you’re going to need stitches and antibiotics. You cut yourself on the car glass in an accident?”
“More or less.”
Sommer turned to see what caught Ethan’s attention.
Even though Ethan had ended comms with Iniquus, Ethan had a feeling that Iniquus hadn’t ended comms with Tango. Creed pulled into the parking area and drove straight over to his space.
Creed got out of the car with a smile. “Hey, Sommer,” he said, making Ethan wonder if Cerberus was in the emergency department often enough that they’d learned the nurses' names.
“Are you the dog sitter?” she asked, pulling off the gloves.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ethan’s not wearing a Cerberus uniform.”
“His dog, Tango, is in the same program as Whiskey went through,” Creed explained.
Small world. “You’re Whiskey’s mom?” Ethan asked.
“I love Whiskey dearly. She’s a very good girl. But I’m not her mom. I’m her singing partner. Creed and I know each other from when he helped rescue two of my friends a short while back.” She smiled. “And even though it’s fun to make new connections, Creed, I need to get Ethan inside.”
