Abraxas's Kismet (Sentinels of Apollo Book 1)

Cerys Chapter 1

I had one hour to go, and then I’d be free. I was counting the minutes and praying that nothing screwed up getting out of here on time. If anyone or anything did, I’d cry. I was dog-tired, and I needed sleep. I had the next four days off and couldn’t wait to start. I was wrecked after working more than thirty-six hours over the past three days.

My shifts were supposed to be three twelve-hour shifts in a row, followed by four days off. It was becoming rare that I worked only twelve hours or only three days. It seemed something would happen to delay my departure, or someone would come in late or call off. My first shift of the week turned into a thirteen-hour shift. Yesterday was fourteen hours. I was running on fumes.

I had relaxation plans, time with Nain , Grandma Twyla, and a night out with the girls. I’d already warned my boss not to call me to pick up any shifts. I did it more than most, and she seemed to think I was the one to call all the time. If she did, the answer would be no. I was sticking to my guns.

As an ER nurse, I was a caregiver at heart, and I liked to help people. That was a great quality, but it made me unable to say no when I should. Nain was working to get me to say it more. She said I had nothing to prove to anyone. My worth wasn’t tied to how much I did for others. I needed to take care of and nurture myself sometimes. I didn’t have to be constantly serious and working. It was a hard habit to break.

I blamed my parents for making me this way. They’d been career-driven people who rarely took time to relax. They saw value only in those who were like them. It was all about getting suitable grades and extracurricular activities in high school to get into a good college. Then, it was keeping my GPA high and working my butt off to get my degree and then into a job that would pay well. However, during my first year of college, I rebelled a little by dating someone and choosing to be a nurse. They hated both. The guy hadn’t lasted, but my career choice did. I’ve been an RN for coming up on two years.

When I moved here, I was lucky to get into the ER. Typically, someone with my lack of nursing years wouldn’t, but it was a small town, and they needed someone who’d worked in a larger hospital like I had. I learned a lot in my first year as a nurse.

I went from working in a hospital in Las Vegas, where the population was well over half a million, to Needles, California, where we barely hit five thousand permanent residents. The town attracted thousands of tourists each year due to the warm winters and the summer boating. It was a change of pace and mindset, but I liked it. I’d spent most summers here growing up, and when I got the chance to move, I took it.

Of course, my parents detested it. They couldn’t understand why anyone would live in such a shit hole, their words, not mine. The whole reason I’d ever come here as a kid was because it was where my dad’s mom lived. Twyla, as she preferred to be called, was the exact opposite of my parents. She was free-spirited and quirky, believed in fairies and other things, and didn’t take life ultra seriously. My dad detested it, but he’d always allowed me to stay with her for a month every summer. Then, for the remaining eleven months, he’d complain about how he had to break me of the bad habits she instilled in me and threatened not to allow me to return. Mom would argue and tell him not to let me go, but he always did it.

Those were the happiest times for me growing up. I hated that I hadn’t been able to visit Twyla as much during college and after I got my nursing license. She wasn’t getting any younger—she was seventy-three to my twenty-three. However, you couldn’t tell it by how active she was. She was always doing something.

It was fate the way I ended up here. I was distraught one day after a shift in Las Vegas and contemplating if I wanted to change up my job when, like magic, I received a text from Twyla telling me the hospital in Needles needed nurses, especially in their ER. My heart had skipped. I replied, telling her that it sounded great, but there was no way I’d get into the ER. She knew it was where I wanted to work the most. She prodded me until I took a chance and sent in my resume. I’d been sure I’d never hear from anyone. To cover my bases, I submitted a couple of others to other units in the hospital, their home health, and a nursing home.

A week later, I almost fainted when I got a call. It was the emergency room director, and he wanted to speak to me. I talked to him for a half hour. He asked if I’d come for a face-to-face interview when we were done. I jumped at the chance. Fast forward a couple of weeks. I had the job, was working out my notice in Vegas, and packing up my life. Twyla was excited for me and insisted I move in with her until I got settled and had time to figure out where I wanted to live. I agreed.

They’d thrown a fit when I informed Dad and Mom that I was moving to Needles. They told me I was ruining my life. I’d never amount to anything there. It was a dead-end existence. They blamed Twyla for convincing me to do it. I discovered they called her and chewed her out. They demanded she make me change my mind. Twyla told them to go fuck themselves and hung up.

They still called, texted, or emailed me even after I left. Sometimes, they were trying to guilt me into returning. Other times, they’d send me ads for nursing opportunities back in Vegas. I thought about changing my number and email so they couldn’t, but they were my parents, so I didn’t.

“Hey, did you hear?” My coworker and best friend, Denise, asked, causing me to jump. I’d been daydreaming. I turned and smiled at her.

“Heard what?”

“They’re bringing in a guy who flipped his car. It sounds like he was high or maybe drunk. They want us to get him processed. They should be here any minute.”

Glancing at the clock, I groaned. It was twenty minutes until quitting time. My replacement hadn’t come to find me, which meant she was undoubtedly late again. I wasn’t leaving on time. Denise gave me a sympathetic smile.

“I know, I feel the same, but let’s tackle him together, and that way, we might get out of here sooner.”

I wearily walked over and hugged her. “Have I told you today I love you?” I asked.

“Oh, just in time for some girl-on-girl action,” an amused male voice said behind me. Turning around, I saw two paramedics pushing a gurney. The man on it had to be our patient. Nico, the guy grinning who made this remark, smirked. His partner, Sam, shook his head, but he smirked too.

“You wish, perv,” I said as I grinned. I liked both of them. They were funny and liked to joke, but I didn’t take what they said seriously.

“Well, if it’s not going to be that, then you and I should go out some night,” Nico added.

I knew he was flirting. He did it with everyone. And if I wanted to have sex and be done, then I would do it, but I wasn’t looking for that, so we flirted and left it alone. He was a gorgeous guy and all, but that wasn’t enough.

I heard what sounded like a deep growl, something a dog would make. I scanned the area, wondering if someone had accidentally let a dog in, but I didn’t see one. What I saw coming behind Sam and Nico was the man who made me want to melt every time I saw him. The scowl he wore wasn’t enough to scare me or decrease my fascination with him. I quickly averted my gaze before I drooled.

I could joke and flirt with any man and not think anything about it. However, when Deputy Sheriff Christou entered the ER, I became tongue-tied. He’d never tried to flirt, and I kept my interactions brief and professional, but he made my whole body react. Nico had turned to face the deputy, who was glaring at him. I guess he didn’t think acting silly during work hours was appropriate.

“Right this way. You can put him in bed three,” I told Sam before hurrying to get ahead of them.

They followed me. Deputy Christou came forward and uncuffed one arm from the gurney so they could lift the man off it and onto the bed. The patient was moaning and writhing restlessly. Christou attached the empty cuff to the rail of the bed. We were used to having patients handcuffed in here. I’d learned how to work around the cuffs and, sometimes, the deputy who was with them.

As Sam began reporting on the guy’s condition, vitals, and what they’d done for him in the ambulance to Denise, I got busy getting the man attached to the monitor. Hearing his name, Felipe Diaz, I addressed him.

“Mr. Diaz, I’m Nurse Cerys, and this is Nurse Denise. We’ll get you settled, and then someone else will take over. I’m putting on a blood pressure cuff, a finger probe to monitor your oxygen, and some leads to monitor your heart.”

“Hurry, I need something for the pain!” he begged.

“Sir, I have to assess you first and then speak to the doctor. We need to understand what’s wrong first, but I promise, as soon as the doctor orders pain medication, you’ll get it. We don’t want anyone in pain longer than necessary.”

He scowled and remained silent. As I finished attaching his blood pressure cuff and pulse ox, Nico gestured for me to come to him. He was at the foot of the bed. I walked over. Deputy Christou was standing not far away. Although I felt him watching me, I avoided his gaze.

“Yeah, Nico?”

“I wanted to let you know that we already medicated him in the ambulance, and he’s been asking for more the whole way here. I’m pretty sure he’s an addict,” Nico softly said so that Diaz couldn’t hear us.

“Based on the jewelry on his wrist, I assume he’s at fault in whatever accident that occurred.” I turned to address Christou. “The usual drug screen and toxicology reports, Deputy?”

“Absolutely. The idiot was speeding at a hundred miles an hour. He flipped his car. Thank God he didn’t hit anyone, or he would’ve killed them. Honestly, I don’t know how he didn’t kill himself,” he said gruffly. He made sure the part about thanking God and not hurting someone was loud enough for the patient to hear it.

Nodding my head, I returned to the head of the bed to attach the leads to the EKG monitor. As I did, Diaz spoke again. “Hurry up and get that doctor to order me something for my pain. This is ridiculous. Whatever they gave me in the ambulance must’ve been water. It didn’t do anything. I’m dying here,” he grunted.

“Please give me a few minutes to put these on and do my assessment. Can you tell me where you hurt?”

“Everywhere!”

“Okay, where does it hurt the most? And on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you’ve ever had, how bad is it?” I asked.

“It’s the same everywhere, and it’s a fucking twelve!” he said louder.

“Watch your mouth,” Christou snapped. He was still talking lowly to Sam and Nico. Denise was inputting the information she got from Sam into the computer, and I finished getting his monitoring equipment in place.

Knowing he wasn’t able or willing to answer me and that a twelve wasn’t realistic, I decided to start my assessment. I hooked my stethoscope into my ears and listened to his heart and lungs. From here, I worked my way down, listening and palpating various areas of his body. He’d groan and twist, but truthfully, no one area was more painful than another. I saw no apparent deformities to indicate he’d broken bones. If he had internal injuries, I wasn’t seeing signs of those, but we’d get X-rays and probably an MRI or CT scan to be sure. His pupils were dilated, which could indicate he was using opiates.

Not wanting to delay getting his blood any longer, I grabbed a phlebotomy kit and the various tubes I’d need. He gave me a questioning look as I wrapped the tourniquet around his upper arm.

“What’s that for?”

“We’ll need to run several tests on your blood. I’m just getting that now.”

“Why do you need that? I’m not consenting to have my blood tested for drugs or alcohol,” he said hastily.

“Those aren’t the only things we test for. I need to finish the others at least,” I informed Diaz.

“I’ll have the warrant for the drug and alcohol testing momentarily,” Christou told me.

I nodded to indicate I heard him but didn’t glance at him. I was cleaning my site to make my stick. Suddenly, Diaz had a hold of my arm, jerking me down almost on top of him. His fingers bit into my skin, causing pain. I hissed.

“I said no, bitch!” he yelled. He had a hold of me with his free hand. He shook me.

Seconds later, he was yelling for a different reason. Deputy Christou was at the other side of the bed in a flash and had a hold of his arm that was latched onto mine. He was applying pressure to my patient’s wrist, which had Diaz screaming in pain. As he did, the deputy leaned into his face.

“If you don’t let go of her, I’ll break your goddamn hand. Do it now!” he snarled.

I was immediately released. I stepped back and cradled my arm. Nico was next to me, trying to see it. “Let me see,” he said. I vaguely saw Diaz’s other arm being handcuffed to the bedrail.

I let go so Nico could examine it. “I don’t think he did any damage,” I told him as he gently pressed on the red marks.

The next thing I knew, Deputy Christou was crowding up to us. He took my arm away from Nico and began examining it himself. The feel of his rougher hands on my skin made me shiver despite trying to hold it in. He shot me a concerned look.

“Did that hurt?”

“No, it’s fine. Honestly, it’s just sore. I’ll be okay. A few days of being sore and some bruises that’ll heal, and it’ll be gone. I need to get back to my patient,” I babbled.

“He can suffer for all I care. If he touches you again, he’ll have more to worry about than a broken wrist,” Christou grumbled.

I noticed Nico smirking, though I had no idea why. With him, it was hard to tell. I held back a moan as the deputy lightly ran his fingers over my arm one more time before he let go.

“I’ll hold him while you get the blood you need,” he told me.

I didn’t linger. I got it and then was done. Having what I needed to report to the doctor, I was ready to do so. I caught sight of my replacement, Angie, standing outside the curtain. I wanted to tell her it was about time she got here.

“You can’t test it,” Diaz tried one more time.

“As a matter of fact, she can. I just got the warrant approved. I’ll be seeing you,” Christou told him as he smirked and held up his phone. Diaz appeared worried.

I left them to debate. I had work to do so I could go. Angie wanted to chitchat, but I cut her off. She irritated me on a good day. She was one to be late more often than on time. Or she called off, necessitating them to call those off to cover her shifts. She always used the fact that she had two kids as an excuse. She wasn’t the only one, and they seemed to get to work.

In some cases, they were single moms, too. She had a husband who could help her. When she saw I wasn’t in the mood, she shut up and let me give her report. After I was done, I finished what charting I had to do, sent the blood off, and spoke to the doctor so he’d know what he was walking into.

It was another half hour before I left for the day. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw Christou in his SUV. He was staring at me. I gave a casual wave, then got the hell out of there. He probably thought I was an idiot.

I thought of him the whole way home. Despite his surliness, something about him attracted me like a moth to a flame. He wasn’t a pretty man. Instead, I’d describe him as classically handsome with more rugged features, making him a mouthwatering specimen.

For one thing, he was tall. Of course, when you were only five foot three, most people, especially men, were tall, but in his case, he was taller than many guys. I’d say he was a lofty six-foot-three or so. I didn’t know his heritage, but he had olive skin, high cheekbones, and a somewhat rectangular face with a strong jaw. His hair and bold brows were a very dark brown. Thick, sooty lashes surrounded his dark brown eyes. He had a beard and mustache that was closely cropped yet thick.

His chest and arms more than filled out his uniform shirts. I wondered how they kept from ripping at the seams. So far, I’d never seen him in anything but short-sleeved shirts. Those shirts allowed me to catch glimpses of the intricate tattoos he had on them. They made me wonder if he had them anywhere else. I wasn’t sure of his age, but I estimated him to be in his thirties.

I wouldn’t know what to do with him, even if he would ever show interest in a woman like me. He was so raw and made me stumble over my words and blush. Besides, he undoubtedly went for worldly women. I wasn’t one of those. My one sexual experience was when I was eighteen. I’d thought I was in love, but that ended badly. After that, I concentrated on college and my job and left relationships on the back burner. That wasn’t to say I never went on dates. I did. But none of them had ever developed into anything more. At most, I’d go out a few times with a guy, find out there was nothing there, and end it. Several times, it had gone badly when they got upset because I refused to sleep with them after two or three dates.

A guy like Christou would be after an experienced woman who undoubtedly put out. It was best if I admired him from afar and sometimes, alright, often dreamed about him. It had been the same for the past six months since I first met him when he came into the ER.

Pulling into the driveway of the small cottage I shared with Twyla, I yawned. Movement caught my eye. Glancing to the left, I saw a sheriff’s SUV driving by. Surely that wasn’t him. Or was it? He must live nearby. I wondered why I’d never noticed him passing the house before. Hmm. Gathering my things, I dragged my aching, sleep-deprived body to the door and let myself in. All I wanted was a hot shower and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Twyla hugged me and kissed my cheek as I cleared the door. “Get yourself a shower and then in bed. I’ll keep it down. You can tell me all about it after you wake up.”

“I love you,” I told her.

“I know, what’s not to love? And I love you,” she said.

I stumbled down the hall to my room and shut the door. The urge to just fall on my bed was overwhelming, but the thought of lying there with cooties from work all over me was more motivating. Walking into my bathroom, I turned on the shower and then stripped.

I woke up at midnight. It wasn’t the eight hours I wanted, but it would do for now. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I wandered out to the kitchen. Now that I’d gotten some sleep, I was starving. My nose led me to the stove, where a pot was simmering. Lifting the lid, I inhaled the scent. My stomach growled louder. Twyla was Welsh, and while she cooked various foods, she still made some of the traditional ones she grew up with.

I recognized this one. It was a favorite of mine. It was called Welsh Cawl. It was a soup made with a variety of meat. Our go-to was bacon and lamb, though you could use mutton, beef, or fish and seafood. Besides the meat, she put potatoes, leeks, carrots, onions, parsley, parsnips, and seasonings in a broth base. We’d reheat it for several days and keep adding to it if we wanted. I knew this meant she’d made homemade bread. I’d slather it in butter and cut a hunk of cheese, and there would be my meal. It made me remember my childhood here. I opened the cabinet to get a bowl when she wandered into the kitchen. As I ladled up my soup, she got busy pulling out the butter, cheese, and bread.

“You want a bowl?” I asked.

“Sure do. I’ve been waiting on you.”

When we sat down, we didn’t bother to talk. We just ate. We passed the butter and knife back and forth as we devoured it. I was so hungry I got a second bowl, even though I shouldn’t. As a short girl, I tried to watch what I ate. It liked to go to my hips, tits, and ass. Twyla always admonished me if I didn’t eat enough to satisfy her. She said we had the bodies men wanted. Once we were finished and cleaned up after ourselves, we went to sit outside with a cold drink.

“Okay, now that I don’t have to worry about you eating off one of my arms or legs, tell me how today went. You were late again. Let me guess—you got tasked with a last-minute admission, or Angie was late, as usual.” She knew my work situation well. But as frustrating as it might get at times, I loved it.

“Both,” I said, and then I launched into the retelling of the highlights. I made sure not to tell her details that would violate HIPAA, but short of that, she got to hear my stories and woes. When I told her about Diaz, she switched from smirking to frowning to insisting on seeing my arm. She tsked at the bruises that were already apparent. On fair skin like mine, they stood out starkly.

“I hope that bastardiaid , bastard, ends up in jail for a while,” she muttered.

“Well, if he was high like they thought, he might.”

“And how was Mr. Burly and Surly? As lickable as ever?” she asked with a wink, then a chuckle.

I mistakenly told her about Christou and how he affected me a few months ago. She knew almost everyone in town, so it was no surprise she knew Deputy Christou. Since then, she had begun calling him that and teasing me about him. She kept pushing me to see if he wanted to go out. I told her I wasn’t his type, but she refused to believe it. She said I was exactly his kind. How she’d know, I didn’t have a clue.

“ Nain Twyla, stop. I told you. He’s not interested. And even if he were, I’d never be able to handle being close to him and not make a fool of myself.”

“ Merchaidd , girly, how often do I have to tell you he’s interested? He’s waiting for you to give him a sign. The next time you see him, pull him into a closet or stock room and lay a big kiss on him. He’ll know what to do then.”

“Oh my God, will you stop? The poor man would have me reported, and my ass would be written up for mauling him. I’m not some animal in heat.”

She laughed harder and mumbled, “He wouldn’t mind.”

Ignoring her, I went on to another topic. She shook her head but let me get away with it. She filled me in on what she did while I was at work besides sleeping. As we laughed and chatted, a sense of peace entered me. This was the life. I didn’t care what my parents thought. I was happiest when I was here in Needles and near Twyla.