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“Just a little snafu that might lead to trouble, nothing we can’t handle.” I needed to show a confident front, even if I wasn’t entirely sure if it was real or imagined. He nods, and I go to scrub in. Time to start building.
“Christ.” I huff from behind my surgical mask as my nurse wipes my brow. “I feel like my bladder is going to burst.” I look at Azizi, my second set of hands. I had called him in to assist, knowing that this surgery would be complicated and lengthy. “Can you suture while I run?”
“Of course.”
“Small and tight, none of that railroad shit.”
He nods, and I scrub out, headed for the adjacent bathroom. I had set my phone on the charger here to check things out if I found myself with a moment. Of course, the ringer was off, so I had no idea that Saint had messaged like forty times. Fuck. Unlocking the phone, I hit the voice mail. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I listen to him. The things Finn said did not lend me to the actual urgency of the situation. My anxiety starts to build until I listen to the rest of the messages.
The next is urgent, asking me to call, but the texts let me know he is actually okay and will be here soon. That he loves me and can’t wait to hold me. I settle myself and then head back to finish with my patient. Azizi is finishing up the last of the sutures and prepping her for binding when I get scrubbed back in. “You want the last stitch?” He asks, knowing full well that I do. Taking over, he sets the victory music.
Flight of the Valkyries.
“Smartass.” I chirp as he shakes my hand, and they roll Miss Fitzsimmons to recovery.
“I’d hug you, but you smell like a swamp. I swear you need better air in here.” He wipes his brow with his mask that he’s now removed since the room is clear.
“Yeah, it went on the fritz last week. That’s why I scrubbed in with shorts and a tank under here.” We walk out together. “I’m gonna grab a shower before I go check on her. My man is on his way to get me.”
“I’ll look in now in case she’s a fast wake. I’ll do my reports and email them in the morning. The wife wanted to go to Chez Louise.”
“Yum.” I rub my belly. “I know I’m starving.”
“I hear that. You have a good night, Toney.”
“Thanks, you too.”
Washing the conditioner out of my hair, the lights flicker. I pause, looking and listening. It sometimes happens, especially this time of year. It used to be that the Santa Anna winds blew hardest from October to March, but the last few years, they’ve blown till nearly June. The phenomenon can make some people a bit crazy, but honestly, aside from the occasional loss of power, I love them. Getting dressed, I can hear them and the thunder from the impending storm. Then the power goes completely. Shit. I stand in the locker room, waiting. The auxiliary power should pop on any minute now. Sure enough, the room turns red from the emergency lights. I had expected to hear Dakar checking up on me, but it’s oddly quiet—except for the storm. That uneasy feeling fills my belly again as I grab my stuff and head out front.
Dakar is missing. He wouldn’t have left without telling me. I double back, heading for the surgical supply room. Finn should have made an appearance. If I were him, I would have been looking for me as soon as the power kicked out. This has fucked up written all over it. Saint, where the fuck are you?
I grab a capped scalpel from the drawer and tuck it under the back strap of my bra. It lays flush so it cannot be seen. Then taking a second, I crack the sheath and cautiously make my way toward my office. The red lights make me feel like I’m stuck in a bad horror movie. You know the type, where with each step, the hero—or in my case, heroine—takes the lights flash, and then behind them, you see a huge fucking monster creeping up, getting closer.
My blood runs cold as I take trepidatious steps and glance behind me. So far, no monster, just the ones in my head, and the only sounds are the winds and my slow, shallow breaths. Getting aligned with my office, I see the light of my laptop on and Finn sitting in the chair opposite my desk. Relief washes over me as I head in, ready to scold him for scaring my anxious ass to death.
“Finn, you little shi—” I’m blinded momentarily when the main generator kicks in. as my eyes adjust, I realize Finn is tied to the chair. Before I can do anything, my hand with the scalpel is grabbed, and a hand goes over my mouth. My chair spins, and an older man of Latino descent is seated there. His clothes are impeccable. A tailored black jacket covers a white mandarin collared dress shirt, paired with a blood-red jacquard vest. Around his neck hangs a simple yet brilliantly shined silver crucifix. His long hair is dark, without a single slicked back strand out of place. I watch as he smiles, sticking a cigar between his lips which are supporting a downward turned handlebar mustache.
“Miss Fuzion.” He says my birth name as though it were his own. “Or may I call you Toney? Please let Santino have your weapon. I only wish to have a little chat. I am Hector Alverez, your new business partner.”
