Chapter 7 Priority Target #2
He fought not to smile like an idiot. It probably actually wasn’t good if Lynn was showing an unprofessional interest in him in front of her colleagues.
But then, he hadn’t seen a lot of warmth passing between her and those colleagues the few times they’d been in shared spaces in his presence.
Still, he held his expression in neutral and only dipped his chin in encouragement when Amy paused.
Amy’s words gained a little strength. Her shoulders unclenched. “I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t, because I can’t think of any other way to do the right thing.” She paused to roll her lips together in the same nervous gesture she’d made earlier.
A flicker of anxiety twisted through him. What the hell could she need to tell him?
Amy shuffled closer and lowered her voice. “I don’t have the details, but there’s a documented problem between Lynnette and Doctor Bishop.”
Bishop. That was the day doc that had rubbed Lance wrong from minute one. His body tensed and he locked his jaw.
“They’re actually not supposed to be assigned to the same cases,” Amy continued.
“Whenever possible, they’re to work in separate units entirely.
Those are the notations I’m privy to, no explanation of why.
They’re permanent orders, though. So, really, Lynnette should never have been the nurse sent to fill our roster for this week and she could absolutely have refused, but that— that’s not my point. ”
What she described sounded like a desperate, shitshow of a restraining order with prettier wording. What the hell could have happened that there would be formal records insisting on that type of separation? He couldn’t think of anything that didn’t make him need to break bone.
“My brother is in the Air Force,” Amy suddenly said, the topic switch jarring Lance’s concentration.
She was pressing the tablet to her chest and staring at him with pleading eyes, a request he didn’t yet understand.
“He talks all the time about technical stuff that flies way over my head. Makes it sound like you basically have to be a tech-wizard to do anything other than sit in trenches with rifles. Which I know is over-simplified, and I don’t mean to demean anything, my point is just— I was hoping that meant you could help me help her. ”
Lance felt his eyes blow wide before he could finish processing the information. “You mean Lynn?”
A small smile cracked her anxious expression and she loosened her hold on the tablet. “Yes. Would you … be willing to cross a small line to—”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “What do you need from me? How can I help?” And what the hell did any of Lynn’s situation have to do with Amy’s fly boy brother?
Relief melted her features and Amy turned the tablet around, holding it out as she spoke again, her words coming faster.
“This is the tablet Lynnette was using today. They’re hospital property, we have enough for each shift but the nurses don’t have designated devices.
Which matters because I noticed a notification had come in shortly after the end of her shift, and I shouldn’t have, but I peeked and”—she drew a hard breath—“there’s a video on here, recorded not twenty minutes before she would have clocked out, and it’s not good.
Doctor Bishop could get in a lot of trouble if this video isn’t destroyed, and she obviously knew that because she tried emailing it to herself, I presume to make sure she had a copy the hospital couldn’t get rid of. ”
His chest tightened with every word Amy spoke, but Lance kept his lips shut and let her say what needed saying.
“But the email didn’t go through,” Amy continued, “something about file size or compatibility, I didn’t pay enough attention when that part flashed across the screen.
I can only stall handing this back out for so long, and then it’s probably too late.
Claire’s pretty much turned the rest of the unit against her. ”
Lance unlocked his jaw when she stopped speaking for longer than three seconds. “What sort of video?” He asked the question carefully, as calmly as he was capable. But Bishop would die that day if the video showed him hurting her.
Amy tipped forward to see the screen without turning it from him, tapped on a folder, and a video pulled up, ready to play.
From the frozen image, the screen was mostly dark.
Lance thought he could make out a very close-up silhouette from the curve of her breasts beneath the scrubs she’d worn that morning, but the angle was strange.
The space beyond the form he was fairly sure was Lynn looked as if it were only lit from one side and not well.
Or as if she were in a darkened room with the hall-facing window uncovered.
His jaw tightened and Lance reached out to take the tablet. “You mind?”
Amy shook her head. “It’s short,” she said. “And it might help you understand.”
Oh, I already understand. But he still intended to watch. So, he reminded himself that he’d seen more than his share of shit—and most of it in the flesh—and he hit play.
There was a blur of movement that settled at what Lance identified to be Lynnette’s side, though the camera itself was at an odd angle which made the visual skewed.
Then Lynn spoke, and Lance listened with increasing tension as she clearly articulated the events that had transpired before the video began.
He listened as Doctor Bishop—the day doc who treated him like an inconvenience—hurled angry, derogatory insults but never once denied her claims.
He watched through a glare that ought to have fried the machine as another arm, a man’s arm, reached into the screen as the doctor began to threaten her. The arm reached for her with clear ill intentions.
A surge of pride rushed through Lance’s chest when Lynn calmly informed her assailant that she was recording them.
“On selfie mode,” Lynnette said in the video.
Blood rushed south to Lance’s dick at the sound of strength and confidence in her voice, and the undertone of the challenge. He had no right to be so damn proud of her, but he was.
She kept recording until the door slammed beyond the sight of the camera and her grip slipped, her whole stance slipped, revealing how shaken she’d truly been. Then it was over with barely a glimpse of her pained expression in the final few frames.
“You see why it would be a problem,” Amy said quietly. “She deserves to not have to worry about that nonsense at work. We all do. But the hospital will wash it away the moment anyone else gets wind of it. She could even … be the one who gets punished.”
Lance growled and snatched up the phone he’d left in his lap. “Not a fucking chance.” He flicked his gaze up to her. “What’s this got to do with your brother?”
She blinked, then flushed again. “Oh, I just meant … from what he’s always said, I hoped that meant you would know how to get that video off the tablet, even though apparently it won’t email.”
He stared at her for half a second, replayed her earlier words about her brother, and almost laughed. “Yeah, I can do that.” He turned his gaze back to the screen and swiped his thumb over his phone simultaneously. “I can do more than that.”
Amy wrang her hands nervously. “Can you do it quickly?” She was risking her job stepping over the line the way she was. He respected the hell out of her for it. He also recognized that she needed to return to her station with the tablet.
“Yeah. One minute.” He put his phone on speaker to free up his hand and set to work seeking out the link he’d need.
The line rang two times before Dietz caught the call. “Master Guns, I heard you’re out, what the hell?”
Lance grunted. “Political bullshit, Deets. I need a favor that’s right up your alley.”
Dietz laughed, undeterred by Lance’s agitated tone. “You know the cost, bro.”
“Consider it paid.” Lance tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of the tablet in his hands as he waited for the network’s slow connection to finish the transfer.
“I’m about to drop a video file in your extra inbox.
Keep it safe for me. And in the meantime, if you could find everything there is to know about a Doctor Gavin Bishop, surgeon at Klamath Community Hospital in Klamath Falls, Oregon, I’d appreciate the good stuff sliding my way.
Tips included, of course. I don’t cheat my friends. ”
Dietz snorted. “What’d this Bishop do to piss you off?”
“Watch the video and take a guess.” Lance tapped the next necessary button as the loading completed. He typed in some more information, followed one link to another, and dropped the attached file into the desired location. “You should see it in about five seconds.”
There was a pause on the line. “Lance’s Debt, huh? Interesting file name,” Dietz said, confirming he’d received it.
Lance backed out of where he was and set to work erasing his trail. Just in case someone at the hospital was particularly motivated. “You’ll know what it is and that I know what I owe you. All boxes checked. You get paid when I get the results, same deal.”
“Why you gotta go and make this sound like some black-market shit?”
“Please, you eat that shit up,” Lance returned. He paused as he opened the file information for the video itself. “Do me a sub favor and verify it plays before I delete this?”
“Can’t keep the original, huh?” A subtle clicking assured Dietz was in motion. Not that the man’s fingers often held still.
“Nope.”
Dietz hummed. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting. But yeah, looks like I got the whole thing. Your guy’s a piece of shit.”
“Not my guy, Deets,” Lance shot back as he watched the final loading bar wipe away the evidence from the tablet. “My girl.” He pretended not to notice Amy’s eyes go big as saucers. To her credit, she stayed silent.
Dietz, predictably, blew out a whistle. “Shit. Well now it makes sense. I’ll be in touch, brother.” He disconnected and a heartbeat later the tablet screen refreshed, no sign of the video file in sight.
For good measure, Lance triggered a restart on the device, then held it out to the still wide-eyed nurse.
He offered her the nicest smile he could manage.
“It’s booting back up, but I wiped the video completely.
” He indicated his phone. “Dietz has a copy, and he’ll keep it locked down until it’s needed.
He’s never not come through for me before. ”
Amy nodded the way people did when they weren’t fully listening. She looked down at the device now back in her hands, hovered a finger over the screen, and finally asked, “What about the email trail?”
Lance pushed out a scoff. “Everything’s gone,” he said. “The video never existed. Not as far as the hospital’s concerned. If Bishop goes through the tablets trying to find it, he’ll conclude Lynn was bluffing. It’ll piss him off, but I don’t fucking care.” He paused. “Pardon my language.”
She pulled in a breath and seemed to come back to herself, finding a smile that reached her eyes again. “Oh, you’re fine. We hear worse every day.” She tucked the tablet into the crook of her arm. “Thank you so much, Mr. Blackburn. I’m sorry I just sort of dumped this on you….”
He shook his head. “No apology necessary. I’d handle it more directly if I weren’t still a one-legged man.
Anytime you hear about something that’s a danger to Lynnette, I’d like to know.
” Not that he planned to stay in the hospital forever.
The surgeon he now severely wanted to punch in the face, and the kidneys, and a few other choice places, had dropped the word ‘release’ while Lance was getting back into bed.
Release would be fabulous, except for the possibility of it leaving Lynn in danger.
But as Amy darted from his room, Lance decided the notion of release was the last thing he needed to be worrying about.
The first thing he needed to know was whether or not Lynn was okay—whether or not it was even fucking safe for her to be coming into work.
Then he’d see about breaking every bone in Gavin Bishop’s pathetic body and taking a trip to Oregon’s famous coastline so he could toss the broken mass over a cliff.
Maybe he’d bring Jon with him for that part, just to make sure the body was properly washed out to sea.
The words Bishop had said to Lynn in that short video replayed in Lance’s mind and sparks snapped off his fingers with the rise of his agitation. He needed to cool it before he caused too many problems.
Lance closed his eyes and reflected on the vision of Lynn in his hospital room while they shared lunch.
Not his ideal first date, but as it had been her idea, he was over the fucking moon for it.
And that had been before she’d come back, with the food, yeah, but also in her damn tempting civilian clothes and visibly settled from her earlier upset.
She’d pulled the chair up closer to him, within reach, and talked.
Told him real shit. Listened to his real shit.
That vision of her, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her and a different warmth in her smile, lingered in his mind.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
And he would fucking slaughter any bastard who hurt her.