Chapter Eleven
JULIE’S ATTORNEY CONTACTED her during her commute to the courthouse, reminding her that any statements made could have serious repercussions for her and her legal representation if the family proceeded with their lawsuit. This thought weighed heavily on her mind, leaving her in deep contemplation. Could this be the motive behind the attempted detonation of her vehicle? Was this an effort to prevent her from providing testimony? The question lingered, even as she considered that her testimony would not have any groundbreaking implications, regardless of its direction.
“Gun!” A piercing scream erupted from the front seat, shattering the tense silence. In an instant, chaos ensued. She felt the sharp crack of glass exploding around her and a searing sting igniting on her left arm as panic engulfed her while Rodney pushed her into the seat, shielding her body with his like a human barricade. At the same time, the SUV lurched forward, the engine roaring as it accelerated.
“Get us the hell out of here,” she heard Rodney yell to the driver—a man he referred to as Boss—as if the agent needed direction. From what Julie sensed, that was precisely what he was doing.
“Are you hurt?” Rodney asked, pressing his body close to hers protectively.
She attempted to shake her head but couldn’t move it because he had covered her. “I—” she said, terrified for her life. Someone had just shot at them. Or, rather, they’d shot at her.
“Christ, you’re bleeding,” Rodney said as he pulled away from her. “Let me see.” He grasped her arm and turned her toward him, leaning in closer to examine—what, exactly?
“Change direction. Head to the hospital,” he told the driver. “Julie’s been hit.”
Had she been injured? Did he mean she’d been shot? Why couldn’t she— “Ouch!” she screamed, the sound bursting from her lips when Rodney’s fingers grazed a tender spot on her arm. A sharp jolt of pain radiated through her, and she finally recognized the sting. How serious was it? Her heart raced as anxiety clawed at her insides, and she wondered how much damage had been done.
Taking a breath to steady herself, her medical persona took over. She gently moved Rodney aside. “Let me see.”
Rodney raised his hands in surrender, leaning back while keeping his eyes on her. “Okay.”
She turned her arm to get a better look at the wound. She had no idea a bullet wound could hurt this much. It brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. Trauma surgeon, she reminded herself, stiffening her spine. She could work through the pain. No, she couldn’t repair the damage herself. She’d need someone else to do that, but she could examine the injury.
Unable to see the other side of her arm, dread gripped her heart as she realized she couldn’t assess the full extent of the devastation. There was no exit wound to be found, no sign to guide her through the horrific uncertainty she faced as she examined the injury with trembling hands. The pain was relentless. Agony coursed from her arm, racing through every bone in her body like wildfire. She felt a deep, aching sympathy for the patients trapped in their suffering, waiting for surgeries that seemed to stretch into a cruel eternity, with no hope of relief from the torment of their pain.
Considering medication, she said, “There’s some ibuprofen in my purse. Would you please get it?” It may not help much, but it was better than nothing.
Doc bent down and grabbed her brown leather purse from the floorboard. He sifted through it until he found an over-the-counter bottle of ibuprofen and handed her two tablets. Casper, the agent in the passenger seat, reached back and, after twisting off the cap, gave her a bottle of water.
With her left arm securely pressed against her torso, she accepted the medication from Rodney, tossed the pills into her mouth, and then took a sip from the water bottle to wash them down. The pharmacologic effects would likely manifest later due to their proximity to the hospital. However, starting the treatment reassured her about her healthcare.
“How serious is it?” Rodney asked, concern written all over his face.
“Bad,” she replied. “The bullet is still inside.” She gripped her injured arm, bent at the elbow, pressing it tightly against her body as if trying to shield it from the world. A searing pain enveloped her senses, clouding her mind and overshadowing all her thoughts. The harsh reality crashed down on her like a tidal wave—she had been shot, and it felt surreal, as if her life had become a haunting nightmare from which she couldn't wake.
“It won’t be long. I can see the hospital,” Boss said from the driver’s seat. “ETA is two minutes.”
Julie nodded, not fully agreeing but acknowledging they were close, which was good because she was on the brink of passing out from the pain. She focused on preventing shock, aware that it could be possible if medical assistance didn’t arrive soon.
As they screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance, Rodney opened the door before the SUV stopped entirely. Boss jumped out of the vehicle and opened her door. “Careful now,” the agent said as he helped her from the SUV.
Rodney was by her side before she had fully stepped onto the concrete driveway. “I’ve got you,” he said, holding her other arm to steady her.
“Good. Because I’m unsure if I can—” Then it went black.
When Julie woke, she discovered she was in a hospital bed with Rodney sitting beside her, watching her intently. He jumped up as soon as her eyes opened. “You’re awake!”
She nodded as best she could, but a searing pain ripped through her arm, stealing her breath and blurring her vision. Hadn’t they seen her yet? Why were they turning a blind eye? She didn’t want special privileges, yet this was a time of desperation. Trauma cases were rare during the day, only emerging as shadows at night when the gangs roamed freely, leaving chaos in their wake. “Wa—” Her dry mouth prevented her from finishing the word.
“Oh.” Rodney grabbed a glass of water from her bedside. “Here.” After she drank hungrily, he set the cup down and walked to the door, flinging it open. “Tell Sanders that she’s awake.”
He hurried back to her bed. “The doctor will be here soon.”
Julie knew better. Typically, the nurse saw patients first, followed by the doctor, as it was standard medical protocol. “Have they removed the bullet?” She couldn’t tell, as her arm felt aflame.
Rodney nodded. “Yes, the surgery was successful.”
That’s why he called Dr. Jeffrey Sanders, the trauma surgeon on call that day, since she and Garcia were scheduled to appear in court. Thank goodness their hospital had top-notch professionals.
To her surprise, Dr. Sanders and a nurse entered the room.
“How’s our patient?” he asked with a smile, a stethoscope hanging around his neck and a sleek tablet in his hand.
“It hurts,” she said as she attempted to sit up, but instinctively used her arm, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through it. “Ouch!”
Dr. Sanders reached for her while the nurse checked the machines and medications flowing into her system. “Take it easy. I don’t want you to mess up my work that soon. How would it look if I failed on our future chief of surgery?”
Since the rumor started that Dr. Ryland Macon, the current chief of surgery, wanted her to replace him, her life changed. The other surgeons began treating her differently. They went out of their way to assist her, complimented her, and consistently showed her deference. It was unnerving.
“Come on,” she said, adjusting the blanket with her right arm. “That’s just a rumor.”
Dr. Sanders shook his head. “If you say so. Anyhow, how’s the arm?” He set the tablet on the end of her bed and pulled the stethoscope from around his neck.
“Hurts,” was all she said as the cool metal of the stethoscope grazed her skin just above her heart. “Hey.”
The doctor winced and pulled the instrument back. “Sorry.” He warmed the tip with his hand and then said, “Take a deep breath. You know the routine.”
She followed her doctor’s instructions, taking deep breaths until he was satisfied.
“Let me see the wound.” Dr. Sanders unwrapped the bandage and examined the area around the stitches, causing Julie to jump and let out a yowl. He looked at her with sympathy. “Sorry.”
She jerked her arm away and rubbed the area she could without pain. The stitches looked excellent to her, and she would have minimal scarring. “They look good,” she told the doctor, and she could have sworn he grew two feet taller with her compliment.
Releasing her arm, Julie looked up at the doctor. “Thank you. But could I have something for the pain? Something mild?”
Dr. Sanders nodded. “That’s what Regina is doing right now.”
When Julie glanced at the nurse, she saw her inject something into her IV line. She could only hope it wasn’t a powerful sedative. “When can I be released?”
“I’d like to keep you overnight, but I know you. We’ll hold you for a few more hours until the anesthesia has completely worn off so we can ensure there are no complications. You know the drill.”
She did. The availability of ICU rooms also depended on the length of stay, which meant there was space for her to recover a bit longer. She appreciated this since she wasn’t sure she could walk yet.
“Any questions?” Dr. Sanders wrapped the stethoscope around his neck and picked up the tablet to start typing.
She wanted information about the surgical procedure but decided to wait to review her medical chart for now. Currently experiencing residual sedation, she preferred to extend her rest. As a result, she gently shook her head and closed her eyes. “No, I’m stable and comfortable.”
Dr. Sanders gently patted her leg. “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Although she didn’t see them, Julie knew the doctor and nurse had left the room. That left her with Rodney, and the men she believed were outside her door.
“How are you, really?” Rodney asked, reaching for her hand and surprising her.
She slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the haze that clouded her vision, and locked her gaze onto his wounded eyes—suffering yet searching. “I’m fine,” she lied through clenched teeth, the words rolling off her tongue like bitter ash. Deep down, she felt a pang of guilt, fully aware that this painful moment was not just for her but was carved deeply into his heart. She could sense the weight of the injury she bore—his responsibility, his anguish—looming like a heavy shadow over them both.
With their hands clasped, Julie felt uncertain about its meaning. Was he offering her comfort? Why had he taken her hand in the first place? She was his client, and he was her patient. Neither relationship allowed for such a personal gesture.
Sensing her distress over his move, he released her hand and quickly stood, running his fingers through his short hair. “I’m so sorry.” He turned to her, and she could see the pain radiating from his gaze. “I should have been sitting on that side. I should have been watching the windows more closely. Christ,” he said, turning back to her. “I should have protected you.”
“Rodney, I’m fine. This is nothing,” she lied. “Just a scratch.” A scratch that hurt like hell and would prevent her from doing her job properly.
The realization hit her all at once. She wouldn’t be able to perform surgical procedures. Although the impairment was temporary, the thought of being unable to operate was overwhelming. Initially, her arm would be in a sling, significantly limiting her range of motion. While rehabilitation would eventually restore function to her arm, performing surgery would be off-limits for an indefinite time—until the chief of surgery decided it was appropriate for her to resume her duties, allowing her to transition from patient care to instructional responsibilities in the operating room, where she would guide her students through surgical techniques.
She took a deep breath, fiercely reminding herself that she was alive, and that was truly all that mattered. His despair pierced her heart as she looked at Rodney, filling her with an urgent need to lift him from that darkness. With a gentle touch, she leaned over and placed her hand on his, letting warmth and reassurance flow between them. “It’s really okay, Rodney. You and the team did an incredible job. You got me here, and I’m truly fine,” she said, her voice steady yet full of compassion, hoping to dissolve the shadows lingering in his eyes.
At that moment, a wave of dread washed over her as she realized that her ethical principles were being tested. Deep down, she prepared herself for the inevitable failure. Yet, surprisingly, instead of feeling guilt or regret, she experienced a strange thrill bubbling within her. Curiosity ignited her spirit, and she looked forward to the challenge with unexpected excitement.