Chapter Two

Taka rubbed the bridge of his nose with the tips of his fingers. He wasn’t rostered on nightshift this week, but he’d still managed to be here twenty-two hours. Somewhere in the middle, he’d managed to flake out for three hours in the doctor’s lounge, but that was it. He sighed and turned toward the elevators.

Hell, I need a shower.

Sandpaper over his eyes would be a blessing compared to how they actually felt. He’d finally finished his emergency surgery, so at least he could go home now. He had one last file to drop off at the triage desk in the ER, then he was out of there.

So far, he’d been able to avoid thinking about the huge commitment he would be making at precisely five o’clock tomorrow evening. Talk about pre-wedding dread. His stomach was so tied up in knots, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Or was it the day before?

He smiled at the emergency nurse behind the desk and dropped the file in front of her.

“Here you go, Leticia. As requested.”

“Thanks. I’ll see that Alan gets it. You off home now? You look beat.”

Taka breathed deep. “You bet. I’ll be glad to see the back of this place for a few weeks. I need a week of sleep.”

Leticia laughed at him. “Don’t get greedy, now. We can’t have you getting too fresh.”

The ambulance sirens approaching the doors behind him caught his attention. A strange feeling gnawed at his gut as he glanced over.

“You’d better go while you still can.” She glanced up at him from the file. “Good luck tomorrow. You’ll have to bring in some photos for us all once you’re back from the honeymoon.”

Tomorrow.

Matt bugging him about his messed-up life only made it harder to believe he was doing the right thing. He’d demanded that Taka tell him why he was marrying Monique, because he hadn’t believed Taka was in love with her.

He was right.

Taka hadn’t told Matt the real reason. Hadn’t really known how to. The tension that surrounded them when his best man saw Monique would be so thick he wondered if Matt would be able to keep his promise and not make a scene at the actual ceremony. He wouldn’t be surprised if every single photo taken would feature Matt scowling in the background. Taka scraped a hand over his stubble-roughened face. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be much fun if they couldn’t get along.

Taka looked back at Leticia and nodded in agreement, anxiety twisting his gut. “Thanks, I will.”

He sighed and started to walk toward the doors that faced the parking lot. He was going to have to get over this. He’d give it a chance, even though the woman he loved was marrying another man. He had to. He owed Monique that much. He’d messed up, not her. She shouldn’t be humiliated because he couldn’t get his act together. If it didn’t work after that? He would figure that out if it came to it. He rubbed at his stomach. The gnawing deep in his gut got worse.

He stopped and turned.

A gurney burst through the doors. The paramedics were almost running to get the patient into the ER.

“Female, early forties. Roll over. SUV hit the cab she was in. She’s critical.” The paramedic rattled off her list of suspected injuries.

Taka glanced around. The only ones there were interns. The residents on duty were busy with other crises.

He was too damn tired. He should just go home and let them deal with this. But his stomach was revolting on him. He actually felt nauseous.

Something is very wrong here.

They rushed her to one of the trauma rooms across the hall. Taka swore and ran after them, Leticia right behind him. Halfway to the gurney he got a glimpse of the patient. All tubes and wires and long, curly hair. Blood had stained it dark red. It covered everything.

The machine they had strapped to her started screaming as he caught them.

“She’s flatlining! Get me a crash cart, now!”

Taka glanced at the woman’s bloodstained face, and his own heart jolted mid-beat.

Shock stopped him cold. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

The intern across put his hands to her chest to start CPR, but the angle he was at was impossible. He’d never resuscitate her like that. Seeing his ineptitude sliced through the painful fog that had wrapped around Taka’s brain. Taka vaulted onto the gurney, straddled her hips and shoved the intern backwards.

“Move!”

He pushed at her chest furiously. “Come on! Don’t do this to me. Not now. Breathe, goddammit!”

It wasn’t working.

Buttons flew in every direction as he ripped her shirt open to gain access to bare skin. Cuts and scratches covered her torso, the blood congealing and meshing together in a garish patchwork against pale skin.

Her face and head were bruised and battered from what appeared to be a couple of gashes, and shattered glass from the windows was embedded deep into her skin. He didn’t have time to think what he’d do if she had any brain trauma, because the most talented neurosurgeon they had was her son.

They burst through the doors of the OR. He slipped off the gurney as he was handed the paddles of the defibrillator.

“Clear!”

The screech of the alarm still blared at him.

This can’t be happening.

“Again! Clear!”

Her battered body arched in protest to the treatment. A tiny blip sounded on the monitor.

“We have a pulse!” Leticia spun around and picked up the intubation tube, handing it to Taka. He tilted Gabby’s head back and worked it into her swollen throat. She was fighting him every step of the way.

His gaze lit on her stomach. This was so wrong he almost laughed. “Her abdomen is distended. She’s hemorrhaging. She won’t make it upstairs. I’ll patch her up here, then finish up there.”

Taka tied on his mask and threw scrubs over his blood-stained clothes, firing instructions in all directions.

Leticia grabbed items for a tray. “You talked to her out there, Doctor. Do you know her?”

Taka glanced at her over his mask. “She’s Dr. Winchester’s mom.”

Silence descended on the room, momentarily stopping everything. Shocked faces stared at each other and at Gabby.

“C’mon, people! We can’t screw this up.”

Taka glanced over at the anesthetist, who nodded. Gabby was under.

He flexed his hand. The slight tremor stilled by pure force of will. He picked up his scalpel. The mind-numbing exhaustion had disappeared the moment he’d recognized her. In that one moment, he knew he couldn’t marry Monique. His future was lying in front of him, with the woman he’d dreamed about for years, not in a loveless marriage that would most likely end in divorce. He had to try. Had to give it one last chance to show her he cared, and see if she could ever care for him.

He took a steadying breath and gritted his teeth as he pressed the cold metal to the tortured skin of her abdomen and glanced up at her closed eyes. He couldn’t afford to hesitate now, couldn’t second-guess himself. Not with her.

Don’t leave me. Not now.