Saber's Surrender (Imperial Knights #2)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

Saber

“Dragon. Stop,” I sneer as I notice what he’s doing. “What the fuck, man?” I don’t break his concentration as he continues to probe Roxy’s mind. Watching her in agonizing pain does something to me, the need to protect her from the pain he’s inflicting upon her swamps me. “Stop!”

He shakes his head to rid himself of the haze and Foxy drops to her knees, clutching hers.

“What. Was. That,” she pants out. When she lifts her head to face us, I clutch my hands into fists. Her ducts are swollen and the red lines in her eyes are prominent, startling.

“She’s not the enemy, Dragon. What the fuck were you thinking? What did she do to cause you to go down that route?” I bellow out the question, my entire body vibrating in fury.

“I’m fucking over the two of you acting like assholes to one another, Saber. It’s bleeding into the club and I’m not having it! My old lady left here shaking because of it. You two may think you’re being sly when it comes to hiding the venom between you, but you’re not. It’s my job to protect every damn member of this club, including the two of you. If you won’t willingly tell me why one of my men has been mentally breaking down ever since bringing the Doc here, I’ll use any means necessary to get the truth out and fix it.”

“It’s personal, Dragon. Ain’t nobody’s business but ours,” I argue.

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dragon alleges. “If it’s affecting you to the degree it is, then it’s all of our business. You fucking walk around here with a chip on your shoulder and take it out on anybody that crosses your path. I’m done, Saber. You have one goddamn week to figure this shit out or I’ll figure it out for you. Got me?”

“Got you,” I say, adamantly nodding my head. “We’ll work it out.”

“You better because if not, you won’t like the consequences, either of you,” he insists as he drops his foot from the wall where it was propping him up and levels us with a dirty look before swiftly walking out.

“Shit,” I utter, looking up at the ceiling, hoping it has an idea of how we’ll find a way to get along. At least give the pretense we are. I don’t have to forgive her. I don’t even have to like her—I just have to find a way to respect her as a fellow doctor who’s in charge of keeping the little ones on task.

“What did he do to me?” Foxy asks, falling onto her ass with a thunk, hands still clutched around her skull.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, avoiding her question. She doesn’t know anything about any of our special gifts, including mine. I’ve always kept that secret close to the vest, because when we were younger I didn’t understand it well enough to talk about it. Now that I do, I don’t trust her enough to open up that flood gate because knowing her, she’d likely drown me in it.

She gets that look on her face that she always used to when she knew I was lying about something and refusing to tell her the truth. I suppose she decides it’s not worth it because she shakes it off and sighs.

“How do we get him off our backs, Saber? He’s not going to think we’ve suddenly gotten past our issue.”

I snort before saying, “Our issue?”

“You know what I mean,” she derides, standing up and walking over to the cabinet that holds all of our charts. “If our anger at one another is bleeding into the club like he claims, he’s not going to let this go. I don’t know him well, but even I can see that isn’t a probability.”

“No,” I snort, “it’s not and he won’t simply let it go. He’s going to watch us like bugs under a microscope until he’s satisfied we can get along without it affecting the rest of the club.”

“So what do we do?”

“We fake it,” I answer. “I don’t like you; I don’t respect you, but I can admire your work ethic and accomplishments. I think the best thing we can do is avoid confrontations and smile at each other, no matter how hard it is to do it when we’re in the same room as each other.”

“I guess I could do that. Does that mean you won’t be standing over my shoulder when I’m examining one of my patients?” Her question is ludicrous in my opinion.

“No, and that’s because no matter how good you are, these are still my patients, friends, and family,” I answer with all the honesty I can muster.

“That’s fair, as long as it’s professional and you don’t let how much I hurt you affect our working rapport,” she surmises.

“Then we agree, we’re coworkers and nothing more,” I state, sticking out my hand for a shake.

“Coworkers,” she says before tacking on, “respectable coworkers, Saber. I need a clear mind while seeing patients.”

“Deal,” I concur, my hand still out in the air waiting for her response. It’s going to be hard to hide the snark and asshole when it comes to her, but for my family, for the club, I’ll bite the bullet and provide her the respect she needs to do her job.

“Okay then,” she replies, finally shaking my hand. “Not friends, but friendly.”

I nod my head in response. “Yep. A working relationship, nothing less and nothing more.”

I’m at the hospital today doing my stint in the emergency room and my thoughts are scattered. It’s part of our contract with the hospital that we have to do so many hours a month in this department. It’s not my favorite, but it’s not the worst I’ve experienced. Being a combat medic during my time in service to my country has that title. Still, one of the silver linings from that particular time in my life is I’m able to quickly and easily triage patients, which means in almost no time at all, the overflowing waiting room is down to a more manageable level.

Right now, I’m in a patient room with an anxious mom and her five-year-old child, whose symptoms have been going on for close to a week at this point. I can tell she’s past the point of exhaustion, and at her wit’s end.

As always, when I’m caring for a little boy, my mind is on my son. It’s been years since I gave in and signed the papers giving my rights away as his father, yet I can’t move past the guilt that weighs heavily on my shoulders.

“Take a deep breath,” I suggest to the mom. “He can feel your anxiety and it’s making it hard for me to get a good look at him so we can determine what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs as her son climbs her like a monkey making its way through a tree’s limbs. It’s obvious he’s sick due to his pallor and sunken in eyes, but he’s reacting to her on an instinctual level at this point. “He just can’t seem to settle and it’s stressing me out.”

“I get that,” I respond in a soothing tone. I’ve seen this before in other patients, mothers and the bonds they have with their children are unfaltering. They’re tethered in a way I’ll never understand but try to sympathize with. “What can I do to help you and him settle enough so we can get some blood drawn, give him some fluids intravenously, and do a full examination?”

“Is there anything we can give him that’ll help him calm down? I don’t usually use over-the-counter medications on him, my husband and I typically take a more holistic approach when he runs a fever, but nothing we have in our cabinets at home has worked.”

She’s almost rambling in her haste to impart everything to me, but she didn’t answer my question. That’s one thing I don’t like about civilian medicine over my time in the military. Because of my rank, when I asked a patient something, they answered without a second thought. Now, though, I feel like I have to tease the answer out and it can be a bit frustrating.

“Ma’am, first we need to get him to settle down. While it’s not pleasant to have blood drawn or an IV inserted, we can cause unnecessary pain if he wiggles around too much. How about you sit on the bed with him between your legs?”

It’s not ideal, but as soon as she does it, the little tyke settles with his back against her front and looks at me. I’ve already noted the pallor, as well as the fact that his skin is hot to the touch. Now, it’s time to check out the possible culprits; his ears and throat. I warm up the bell on the stethoscope and lean in to listen to his chest, where I hear a distinctive skip in his heartbeat, as well as a wheeze. He tries to grab the strap and I say, “No can do, little man. These aren’t for play.”

“Here, doctor,” the nurse says, handing me the otoscope so I can check his ears.

“Ah, I see what’s going on,” I tease. “You’re trying to grow potatoes in your ears and that’s simply not done, Calvin.”

Calvin giggles which was my intent while I check his other ear, then his nose before I say, “Open wide and say ‘ah’.” I pull the tablet toward me and jot down my findings in his chart. Having worked in environments where everything was written down, I find this is one aspect of the technology age that I highly prefer. Nothing is really left to chance when it comes to an exam, regardless of the patient’s age. Not only that, but I’m able to input my orders and do an electronic signature so that the ball gets rolling toward a resolution.

“Okay, Mrs. Jones, we’re going to get a chest X-ray, swab his throat for strep, and also his nose to rule out the flu,” I tell the mother. “In the meantime, the nurse will also draw some blood then get an IV started because he’s definitely dehydrated. Has he been vomiting at all? What about using the bathroom?”

“He hasn’t really been peeing all that much, but I figured it was because of his fever,” Mrs. Jones replies as the nurse gets all the things she needs together. “No real vomiting although he did say his tummy hurt.”

“Once we get his tests back from the lab, we should have a clear picture of what’s going on with the little man. Y’all try to relax until then. I’ll turn the lights down low and the remote to the television is hooked to the bed railing. Nurse Calla is going to get his swabs and blood drawn in the meantime. I’ll be back once I have some answers for you.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Mrs. Jones utters, her eyes heavy as she fights to keep them open. Calvin has already lost his battle and sleep has claimed him. I only hope he doesn’t jar when Calla pricks his skin and probes his mouth.

Since there’s no more patients to be seen at this time, I head to the doctor’s lounge and use the lull in activity to grab a bite to eat and rest.