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Entering the double doors of the ICU, I see the charge nurse standing at the nurses’ station. “Hey, Christie, my admit from ER here yet?”
“Which one?”
“Detoxer? Escorted in by police?”
She flips through the paperwork clipped to her clipboard. “Looks like he ended up going to the fourth floor. We had zero open beds, and the house sup wouldn’t hold him in ER.”
“That’s bullshit,” I bark.
“Don’t tell me. Tell the house supervisor. They made the call. I offered to shuffle someone more stable to a med surge unit, but they said no.”
I storm out of the ICU, taking the stairs two at a time. I don’t want this guy to lose control in the unit, and I certainly don’t want him anywhere near Lainey.He’s on the verge of starting a nasty detox. He will be hallucinating, violent, and hard to control. He needs supervision in a unit equipped to handle him, not in a unit where the nurses have five other patients to worry about.
I call the house supervisor on the way up. “I want my detoxer in ICU,” I demand.
“The ER tech said he was stable; he will be fine up there.”
“Yeah, he’s fine because he’s sedated, but that won’t last, and he’s violent.”
“Well,” she sighs, “if he starts to decline, we can shuffle him downstairs, I—"
I hang up on her, knowing my words are falling on deaf ears. I storm the stairs two at a time, hitting the stairwell that goes to the fourth floor when I hear a brutal slam.
What the hell?
Terrified screams echo down the hall, increasing in intensity the closer I get to the patient rooms.
My stomach plummets as I sprint toward the distressed sound of someone pounding on wood, only to round the corner and see our oldest aide, Suzie, outside a closed door. Her hands are balled into tiny fists, banging on the door in front of her astears streak down her face. “Stop!” she pleads against the closed door, “please, stop!”
“Suzie.” I brush her aside and try to open the door, pushing with my shoulder only to open it a crack and find a chair knocked over, blocking the door.The muffled sound of feet shuffling, and equipment being broken leaks from the room.
Through choked tears, Suzie musters, “Lainey, she’s trapped. He’s going to hurt her!”
Lainey.
I stand back and raise a leg, kicking the door as hard as I can.
Nothing.
I lean down and ram my shoulder into the wood, feeling the impact vibrate through my entire body. The door pops a little, enough to spark hope and I fall back. Putting my entire body, energy, and emotion into my shoulder, I ram it again. Ignoring the searing pain, I smash it one, two, three more times when I hear the snap of the wood splintering. I rear back to kick again, harder this time, and the door finally breaks free from the frame.
I shoulder my way in, and rage consumes me when I see the asshole with his filthy hands coiled around Lainey’s neck, pressing her up and against the wall. The IV pole is lying on the floor, beeping loudly, broken bags of fluids creating a slippery pool at their feet.
Her hands are on his face, clawing his skin to shreds. He’s bigger, stronger, and has a fleet of drugs fueling his system, but goddamn she’s a fighter.
Within two furious strides, I’m over the broken chair, and my arm is wrapped around his throat, using every ounce of strength left in my shaking body to drag him from her and throw him to the floor.
I faintly hear Lainey cough with relief and the sounds of other staff arriving, but I can’t look at her. Not now. Not while he’sreared up on all fours, growling and trying to come at me. I meet his stance with a tackle, flip him on his back, and start punching.
Every strand of anger I have fuels my fists as they collide with his face. The alcohol seeping out of his pores stings my nose, and suddenly I’m eight years old again, pulling another scumbag off a woman as she fights for her life. I punch until my vision blurs, ignoring the sting as my knuckles split open.
A rush of people enters the room, it’s a whirl of bodies fighting for control as security pulls us apart. Two of the security guys keep me pressed to the floor until I submit, letting my body finally go lax under their strain.
“Lainey,” I grunt out. “Where is she?” I crawl to the last place I saw her, and she’s gone.
Dr. Hendricks grips my arm, tugging me up, and places both hands on my shoulders. “Ryan, for fucks sake, stop.” He tightens his grip and tries to lead me out of the unit. I pull my arm out of his grasp and ask again, this time louder.
“Where the fuck is she?”
