Honovi’s Briefs

Chapter 1

HONOVI

“Are you aware the patient’s consent was obtained under sedation?” I asked for the third time in as many hours.

The surgeon’s nostrils flared. “Once again, I’m aware the patient had been stabbed and was at risk of death. I didn’t think stopping to let him sober up was worth his life. Still don’t, in fact. No matter how many times you want to ask me the question.”

Dr. Xavier Rhodes was a beautiful man. There was no doubt about that. Everyone in Hobie, Texas, was aware of it. In fact, I’d overheard Doc Wilde say something about how the man was “too perfect.”

He also came off like a textbook ego-driven surgeon who thought he was a god, which was going to be a problem on the stand if this civil suit went to trial.

Hell, it was already a problem for me.

He was handsome, yes—maybe even ridiculously, unfairly handsome—but I could hardly stand to look at the man since every time I tried to question him, he turned into an automaton hell-bent on ruining this case or crushing my spirit, whichever came first.

I took a breath and held it for four beats, five. Seven. “Be that as it may, the patient is contesting the procedure, and you and the hospital are on the hook for it.”

He leaned forward and jabbed the table with one long, elegant finger to make his point. “This is a complete waste of time. Ask any surgeon in any hospital in the country and they’ll tell you they would have done the same thing. The man needed his appendix out, so I gave him an appendectomy.”

“You were treating him for a stab wound,” I pointed out calmly. In order to keep from adding another stab wound to this case.

He took a breath and repeated his earlier explanation as if he was pressing Rewind and Play on a boring and disgusting med school lecture.

“During the procedure to repair the penetrating abdominal trauma, I identified necrotic tissue and purulent fluid consistent with early necrotizing peritonitis. At that point, I extended the incision and proceeded with an open appendectomy and lavage to avoid sepsis. Standard procedure. Had I not made the call, sepsis would have led to septic shock, where blood pressure collapses, organs fail, and mortality exceeds 50 to 60 percent, even with aggressive ICU intervention. Yes, he came in for a stab wound, but that stab wound actually saved his life.”

“Says you,” I murmured as I made a few more notes.

His square jaw somehow managed to get square-er. “Mr. Baptiste, with all due respect, there’s no doubt in my mind that this will be resolved in the courtroom once we get medical experts on the stand.”

I tried not to stare at his hands as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the table.

In the few months Xavier Rhodes had been back in Hobie, those capable hands of his had earned a hell of a reputation among his patients. Superhuman, they said.

Which was completely irrelevant right now.

Focus, Hon.

“I believe your defense attorney’s goal is not to get anyone on the stand,” I explained, glad I wasn’t his actual attorney, only assisting the guy with information-gathering and trial prep as a favor.

“It’s to gather enough evidence to make them go away.

And so far, your combativeness and refusal to cooperate hasn’t helped us get anywhere near that goal. ”

Dr. Rhodes pushed back from the conference table with those same damnable fingers and stood, shooting the cuffs of his expensive dress shirt and smoothing his baby blue tie down to his shiny silver-buckled belt.

“I have kept my cool for over three hours of repetitive, inconsequential questions about a simple medical decision, Mr. Baptiste. And I’ve reached my limit.

A patient and his ambulance-chasing attorney are looking for an easy payday.

I hope this hospital’s legal team is good enough not to give him one.

If you have more questions for me, you’ll have to schedule them for another day. Good afternoon.”

With that, I watched his tight, rounded ass, pristinely draped in expensive suit pants, walk out of the conference room and into the hospital corridor.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

My paralegal tilted her head and pursed her lips. “To be fair, he stayed way longer than anyone expected.”

I gave Gracie a weak laugh. “Not nearly long enough. You and I both know we didn’t need any of that information. We needed to know how he’d handle being under pressure with repeated questions. And the answer is, ‘Not particularly well.’”

One of the hospital administrators I’d forgotten was in the room sighed as she stood up. “The poor man. Dr. Rhodes has been slammed ever since Dr. Khidhri retired. I don’t know when he sleeps. One of the nurses says he’s practically living in the doctors’ lounge.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “Could his overwork and possible sleep deprivation be used against the hospital in this case?”

Her fond expression turned to a scowl in a blink. “What? No! Absolutely not. Dr. Rhodes is bound by the strictest of safety procedures, which require adequate rest between shifts. He’s a rule follower.”

Sure he was.

I didn’t express my doubt, only nodded at her.

She fussed with her tablet. “I’ll get him scheduled for another session. Just send me a few available times, preferably in the afternoon. Dr. Rhodes’s surgeries are typically scheduled in the mornings.”

I stood and gathered my things, resisting the urge to text my friend Oliver—who worked for the Dallas firm representing the hospital in this case—and tell him to shove his “favor” up his ass. No wonder his team hadn’t wanted to handle this witness themselves.

“I’m in the middle of a few family cases that will require me to be in court,” I told her. “I’ll see what I can put together. In the meantime, if you can explain to Dr. Rhodes that I’m on his side, that would be appreciated. He seems to think I’m the enemy, and that’s not going to help our case.”

Either that or he’s simply an asshole.

I kept that last thought to myself. Egotistical surgeons, no matter how pretty, were a pain in the ass. If he didn’t want to cooperate with this civil case, that was the hospital’s problem.

“I’ll talk to him,” the administrator agreed with another sigh. “I just feel so bad for him. Thank goodness he’s not married, or his spouse would probably turn up here angry.”

I forced myself not to roll my eyes as she chuckled. We all had our struggles. Right now, I was juggling an impossible case load of my own as a family attorney because I was a sucker for a family in need, but I’d still made time to respond to my friend’s heartfelt plea for assistance.

Oliver had started by asking me for help with a brief related to the case. Then he’d escalated the favor to testing and prepping their main witness. What had begun as a “brief favor” had turned into a pain in my ass that was anything but brief.

But Oliver’s firm had deep pockets and was paying me well, which meant it was in my best interest to suck it up and get the job done.

After returning to the office, I forgot all about Dr. Xavier Rhodes. I did not, however, forget about the million other things I needed to complete before the day was over.

When I finally left the office, I’d agreed to another deposition session with the “poor” doctor in a few days’ time. Honestly, I didn’t expect anything different at our next session, so I wasn’t surprised when it was more of the same: ego mixed with stonewalling.

“And you received your medical degree from where, Mr. Baptiste?” he asked with fake naiveté after I’d questioned him again.

This time, I was the one who stood abruptly and ended the session. It was late. The only time we’d been able to agree to meet was six o’clock, when everyone was short-tempered and ready to go home.

“This was a bad idea,” I said, trying not to blame the man himself. Or punch him in the face. “Why don’t we find another time to meet that isn’t so late in the day?”

The edge of his lip curled up. “Does baby need a snack?”

I blinked at him in surprise, even as something about his question, spoken in his deep voice, made heat furl deep in my belly.

We were alone momentarily since the hospital admin had left the room to answer a call, and I hadn’t wanted to keep Gracie from her husband and child.

My words came out through gritted teeth. “I beg your pardon?”

He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, his long fingers on full display against the wrinkled cotton of his rolled-up sleeve.

“I’m happy to have someone bring you a meal, Mr. Baptiste.

Just say the word. Hypoglycemia can have devastating side effects, including mood swings and confusion, as I’m sure you know. ”

My eyebrows jumped to the ceiling. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is your problem? I’m trying to help you, and you’re doing nothing but regurgitating your surgical notes at me over and over. And now you’re accusing me of being hangry?”

At my loss of temper, his lips widened into a knowing grin. “Ah. There it is. Finally, I get to see the actual human instead of being peppered with questions by a corporate attorney with the personality of a manila folder.”

I gathered my things quickly, trying to hide the fact that my hands were shaking with anger. I refused to let this prick provoke me into being unprofessional.

“Thank you for confirming the stereotype about surgeons, Dr. Rhodes,” I said in as calm a voice as possible.

“It’s true what they say that stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.

And to think, I used to believe the surgeon’s god complex was a coping mechanism.

Turns out, surgeons are just egotistical assholes. Good night.”

I felt the burn of his stare on my back as I left the room.

As soon as I was out of sight, I closed my eyes and blew out my breath, wondering why the fuck my heart was racing and my skin was tingling.

You would think I had a thing for egotistical assholes.