Surrender My Love Read online

  “I’ll be out after I’m done,” Chloe informed him firmly.

  Nurse Wall’s eyes rounded. “Your behavior is completely outrageous! Who do you think you are? I want you to know we’ll be recommending your discharge!”

  Her stomach plummeted, but she pushed back the billowing fear. She did notice that Dr. Markson turned abruptly to Nurse Wall, his eyebrows raised in question. He took a step back and speared his long fingers through his hair, a look of exhaustion blanketing his face.

  “I will be waiting in the nurse’s station. And please do not test my patience.”

  He turned and stalked from the room, leaving her with her glaring supervisor. Chloe tried to ignore the vehemence leaking from Nurse Wall as she steeled her emotions and focused on the task ahead.

  Dr. Brad Markson paced the small room at the back of the nursing station, his long legs taking him from one side of the confining square to the next in just three determined strides. His fingers forked through his hair for about the tenth time since he’d walked into the room. His back ached and his temples throbbed from the unrelenting pressure bearing down on him. Usually he could shoulder the responsibilities of his position and tackle any obstacle that came at him with an innate skill that others openly admired and awed. But today had been a brutal day, a true test of a man wound so tight he threatened to collapse, and this last devastating blow was crushing his shoulders with its mighty weight.

  He’d been in surgery for the past six hours repairing a major coronary anomaly that other doctors had deemed inoperable. Not a candidate for a heart transplant, the patient’s prognosis had been grave. The young man would have been lucky to last another week without Brad’s intervention. The surgery had been grueling, requiring every measure of his skill and concentration. The cardiac team had all but fallen at his feet as the stuttering heart had jumped to life and the muscle started to pump vigorously as he’d finished the surgery. Brad had come out of the OR on an adrenaline high, full of hope and testosterone, only to hear the news about Mr. Barkley.

  Mr. Barkley had been one of the first patients he’d treated with Robotic Coronary Bypass Surgery. That surgery had been a stunning success and had catapulted his career. Other doctors had thought Mr. Barkley’s cardiac muscle too damaged to tolerate the surgery, but Brad had been successful. Mr. Barkley’s supportive family had been greatly appreciative and extensively generous to the hospital in Brad’s honor. He’d quickly developed a close relationship with the family, frequently attending family functions, and he even had several as patients. It had only been in the last year or so that Mr. Barkley’s mental status had started to deteriorate, but he still had a productive life.

  Brad ground to an abrupt halt, staring blindly at the wall. What the fuck? Mr. Barkley was supposed to go home tomorrow. What could have happened? How was he going to explain this to his family? He needed answers and that damn nurse told him he had to wait? He never had to wait for anyone! Yet, here he was, pacing a small disheveled room, waiting. He grumbled with annoyance, stemming the urge to march back to the room and drag her out. He could feel his stress simmering hotly below his skin, blistering his composure.

  Brad looked down at his long fingers, frowning deeply when he saw the fine tremors start. Damn! He fished a pill bottle from the pocket of his scrub top, adeptly twisted the top and popped a tiny white oval under his tongue. Feeling the sharp edge of his anger dull slightly, he closed his eyes and sighed wearily. His heart lurched painfully as he thought of his patient’s family, especially Mary. Poor Mary. She was going to be devastated.

  . Unable to contain his impatience a moment longer, he took a step towards the door just as it swung open.

  “What the hell took you—” Brad’s roaring words crashed abruptly as his gaze landed on the nurse’s face.

  Her countenance was glazed with a sickly pallor and the large hazel eyes that had previously glared defiance at him now studied the floor with a dull dispassion. He pulled his lips thin and turned his gaze from her, surprised by how much her doleful expression moved him. He couldn’t imagine what she’d just had to do. She’d said that she and Mr. Barkley were close. He supposed he should be sympathetic, but he had a difficult time considering anything except the task that lay ahead of him tonight. He’d have to call the family to inform them, then meet with them later in the morning. Just the thought sent crushing pressure sliding down his back-bone. He braced his arms across his chest.

  “What happened in there?” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended.

  Large, sad eyes hesitantly met his and he ignored the sudden jolt of emotion. “It—it’s as I said. We were talking and then he just coded. He seemed to just stop breathing.”

  “Had he complained of anything? Chest pain? Trouble breathing?”

  She swung her head back and forth, returning her nervous gaze to her feet. “Nothing. He was just confused.” He watched her forehead crease in a frown. “More tonight than usual. It’s so strange.”

  “His mental status tends to fluctuate,” Brad explained. “Did he get all of his medication?”

  The nurse nodded.

  “On time?” he pressed.

  At that, her head shot up and her dull eyes narrowed, filling with a glassy shine. She was obviously offended by his question. He almost smiled as he saw a hint of the defiance he’d witnessed back in his patient’s room.

  “Of course on time,” she snapped.

  He resumed his pacing, hands clasped behind his back. He shot a quick glance at her. She was still a statue by the door, her glare tracking his progress. “He was supposed to have his beta-blocker increased to fifty milligrams. Did he get the increase in medication?”

  Her shoulders squared and her narrow jaw tightened. “That increase was not supposed to occur until tomorrow morning, after he was done with the IV taper. Those were the orders,” she stated archly.

  Brad gave a perfunctory nod. She was right. He didn’t know why he felt the need to test her. She’d just been through hell and didn’t deserve his wrath. He sighed and delved his fingers into his hair, absorbing the anger and hatred that radiated like dark fumes from the nurse standing in front of him. Her lips were a slash of indignation and her eyes glazed with loathing. He knew if she had the liberty, she’d toss a few choice words in his direction.

  He continued to pace silently while she waited in anticipation of his next question. Truthfully, he had no more questions. She’d told him all he needed to know. He thought back to Larry Wasko’s words. Mr. Barkley was an old man. And although he’d seemed to be doing well, his heart must have failed. Brad just didn’t deal well with losing patients. He had a tremendous respect for life. His job was to preserve it and keep people healthy. It pained him to lose a patient, especially someone he was close to. It wasn’t something that happened often. The tough week and this grueling day were beating at him like heavy fists, leaving dents in his usually solid nerves of steel. He stopped and pivoted towards the nurse, feeling like a jerk for having been so hard on her.

  “That will be all.”

  She hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but then turned to leave, no doubt in a hurry to escape him. Brad’s gaze landed on her arm and he frowned.

  “You’re hurt. What happened?”

  She turned back, her amber eyes wide with confusion, and then she followed his gaze to her forearm.

  “Oh, nothing, really.”

  She started to leave again and he strode impatiently towards her. Taking her arm to get a better look, he scrutinized the line of half-moon bruises that marched across her forearm. The flesh was starting to blotch a light purplish-red, and he noticed that some of the skin was broken. He traced a finger pad over the area, registering somewhere in his subconscious the smooth texture of her delicate skin.

  “This looks new. Did this happen with Mr. Barkley?”

  She jerked her arm away from his grasp, seeming annoyed by the question.

  “Yes, but he didn’t mean to. He was just confused.”
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  “It’s not like him to be combative.”

  “He wasn’t combative. Like I said, he seemed more confused tonight.” He watched her eyebrows pull together as she seemed to summon a memory. “He was saying something about leaving the hospital.”

  “What was he saying?”

  Her pinched forehead showed her clear exasperation with him, but it was his personality to be tenacious, to question everything.

  At length, she shook her head. “He said ‘they won’t let me leave here’.”

  “Here…as in?”

  The nurse shrugged. “I don’t really know. The hospital, I think. He said he wouldn’t be going home. He was just so confused. He was also talking about surfing and falling from his surfboard.”

  Brad smiled and noticed her nervous gaze land on his mouth, but then it quickly fluttered away. “He was a big surfer when he was young.”

  She nodded, her glance veering eagerly towards the door.

  Brad found himself staring at her face. “What’s your name?”

  “Chloe.”

  “You may go, Chloe.” He sighed and nodded his chin towards her arm. “Get that looked after.”

  The words hadn’t fully left his lips before she was through the door. He stood silent for a moment, staring at the spot she’d occupied then ground the heels of his hands into his eyelids. Damn! He was stressed! He vaguely wondered if he should increase the dose of his medication.

  Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he settled for a different option and dialed the familiar number to his current stress reliever.

  “One hour. Be naked when I get there!” He snapped his phone shut and headed through the door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Ouch!” Chloe winced when the emergency room doctor ran a swab of stinging antiseptic over the bruised lesions on her forearm.

  “Sorry, Chloe.” Dr. Connolly said sympathetically, coating the area with a sticky film of antibacterial ointment.

  “It’s okay. I’m just grumpy. I had a tough night.”

  Dr. Connolly tilted her head and narrowed her green eyes at her patient. “I heard. I was putting in some stitches when I heard the code. You wanna talk about it?”

  Chloe shook her head, hooking her dark hair behind her ears. She was in a small cubicle with Dr. Nina Connolly, the director of the emergency room, and one of her good friends. She sniffled and looked away from her searching gaze, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes.

  “He…he didn’t make it,” she choked out, and accepted the gentle embrace her friend gave her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chloe pulled back and wiped at a threatening tear.

  “Things have been pretty rough for you lately. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  Chloe’s lips twitched wryly. Lately?

  “How’s your mom doing?” Dr. Connolly asked softly.

  She swallowed the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. “Better. She’s been stable since her last surgery. I—”

  Her words were cut off as a curly, dark head poked around the wall of the cubicle and she was grateful for the interruption.

  “Nina, are you finished? Your patient in room four is ready,” Sally, one of the ER nurses, cut in. “Oh, hi, Chloe,” she greeted, then ambled into the cubicle. Sally’s brown eyes widened as her gaze zeroed in on her injured arm. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  “Nothing. I just got a bruise.”

  She watched Sally’s eyes narrow. “I’m sorry. I heard what happened upstairs. I also heard that Dr. Markson was pretty angry!”

  Chloe blanched at the mention of the doctor’s name. A wave of anxiety washed over her, leaving her skin damp and cold.

  “He was,” she agreed softly.

  “I’m sure he was just being his usual disgruntled self! He’s always yelling, scaring the nurses,” Sally planted a hand on her hip. “The man walks around like he owns this damn place.”

  “He does.” Paul, a pharmacist, and one of Chloe’s good friends, interjected as he stepped inside the cubicle. “Do you know how much money he brings in to this hospital? Millions! I wish I had a quarter of his money.”

  Sally snickered. “I wish you had a quarter of his brains!”

  Paul rolled his eyes at Sally’s teasing and gave her the finger. Ignoring her, he turned to Chloe. “You okay, Chloe? I heard you were down here.”

  She nodded, staring into his concerned eyes. “I just may not have a job for much longer.”

  “What do you mean?” Dr. Connolly asked, frowning.

  “I was threatened to be discharged.”

  “That Dr. Markson’s an asshole! Why?” Sally was incredulous.

  Chloe shrugged and then explained what had occurred.

  “That man may have the face of an angel, but he is the devil himself! And Witch Wall, you know what I think of her,” Sally huffed angrily.

  “Brad Markson is one of the best cardiac surgeons in the country,” Dr. Connolly explained patiently. She faced Chloe. “It’s not right the way he spoke to you, Chloe, but he must’ve been upset about losing his patient. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

  “Oh, he did.” Chloe nodded, recalling with a shudder the sharp blade of his tone and the deep intensity of his dark, furious eyes. Somehow the memory of his touch was triggered, and her forearm started to tingle where he’d rubbed a finger pad over her bruised skin. Chloe violently pushed the memory aside, attributing the strange sensations to the ointment that had been slathered on her arm.

  “I know him. Do you want me to talk to him for you?” Dr. Connolly placed a loose bandage on Chloe’s arm, and then stood.

  “No!” she said sharply, then smiled, trying to dilute the alarm in her voice. It was nice of Dr. Connolly to offer, but her friends had already done so much for her during the past several months that she couldn’t burden them further. She would have to deal with whatever Dr. Markson or Nurse Wall had in store for her on her own.

  “You coming out with us on Saturday night?” Paul inquired.

  Chloe watched a hopeful gleam light his eyes, but shook her head firmly. “I can’t.”

  Sally’s lips twisted wryly. “What’s the excuse this time? You never go out! You’re a young, attractive girl, and yet you act like such an old woman!”

  “It’ll cheer you up. It’ll be good for you,” Paul chimed in.

  “Yeah, girl. You need a little R and R.” Sally grinned and winked. “What I call ‘robust recreation’, if you know what I mean!”

  Paul frowned and turned to Sally. “Chloe’s a nice girl, Sally. She’s not like that.”

  Chloe watched Sally’s dark brows jump into her forehead. “What? Nice girls don’t have sex?”

  Paul rolled his eyes again and huffed, and Chloe couldn’t help but chuckle at the bickering two. They were constantly at it. She exchanged a smile with Nina and shook her head. Sally was always trying to find her a date, but she had enough to deal with in her life and didn’t need distractions or more heartache. Besides not wanting to spend the money, she’d probably be working Saturday night. She was always looking to pick up extra shifts.

  “You coming out with us, Nina?” Paul turned to Dr. Connolly.Chloe smiled when the doctor blushed. “No, sorry. Wade has planned a romantic evening for us. My mother is taking little Joey for the night.”

  “Poor kid,” Sally joked, reminding her of Dr. Connolly’s eccentric parents. “Nina doesn’t need to come out with us. She gets enough R and R from that fine hubby of hers!” Sally poked Nina with an elbow and Chloe’s smile widened when Nina’s blush deepened and spread to the roots of her auburn curls.

  “I’d better go. I have a patient waiting.” Dr. Connolly hugged Chloe. “Let me know if you want me to talk to Brad Markson. Really, he’s not that bad. Everything will be fine.”

  “Thanks, Nina. But I can handle it.” She smiled at her friends. “Thanks for the support, guys. I better get back upstairs. I’m already on Nurse Wall’s shit list.”

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sp; “Don’t get me started on Bitchy Witchy.” Sally rolled her eyes, hugged her goodbye, and left.

  “I’ll walk you up,” Paul offered. “I’m headed back to the pharmacy anyway.”

  Sally gave her friend a genuine smile. Paul was always kind to her. He’d been tremendously supportive during the acute phase of her mother’s illness. She half listened to his words of encouragement as he walked her out of the emergency room. She was thinking about her day ahead, trying to shrug off her lingering melancholy. It was her turn to care for her mother and she planned on spending it at her mom’s apartment. Despite Dr. Connolly’s optimistic words, she couldn’t help feeling as though she should start looking for another job.

  Brad stood at the bank of elevators on the first floor of the hospital. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted the tie on his dark blue suit. He was in the middle of his office hours, but had to round on two of his private patients. These two particular patients were hospital VIPs and he always rounded on them separately because they demanded more of his time. One was a famous opera singer with the Metropolitan Opera House, Madame LaFontine, and the other was an Academy Award winning actor who never let him forget it.

  Angelique LaFontine didn’t really have a heart problem, but was convinced she did. If not for her large donations to the hospital, she would’ve been discharged days ago. Two medical students skirted him, nodding deferentially as they hurried by. He poked impatiently at the call button and then stepped back to look up at the digital display above the doors.

  “That doesn’t make the elevator come any faster, Brad.”

  The deep voice was from his colleague, Dr. Lipson, an internist he’d attended medical school with.

  Brad consulted his Rolex then looked up as the doctor strolled over. “When will this hospital get faster elevators? These damn things are ancient,” he grumbled.