Thankfully, that was the final patient of the day. I fantasized about spending the afternoon in bed with my sexy but grumpy bodyguard, even though I knew that was about as likely to happen as seeing him perform a violin solo in the streets of Gelada.
Just before I closed the clinic doors, a woman rushed into the clinic, first addressing Riggs, who was inventorying supplies closer to the door. “Doctor? Excuse me, are you the doctor?”
Riggs frowned, but I piped up, “I’m Dr. Rogers.”
The woman turned to me, and I saw that she was young—maybe only fifteen or sixteen. She was also sweating and almost shaking with exertion like she’d run some great distance.
“Are you okay?” I demanded. “Is there an emergency?”
“No.” She shook her head. “¿O tal vez si? Not emergency for me—for my grandmother. Her heart.” The girl thumped a hand over her own chest. “Es muy rápido.”
Rapido. I was positive that meant fast, but a fast heartbeat could mean her grandmother was suffering from any one of a hundred things, from a heart attack to dehydration.
Riggs inserted himself into the conversation. “¿Donde estas tu abuela? Is she here with you?” He looked over her head at the makeshift waiting area expectantly.
The girl shook her head. “En la casa. She is too sick to come.”
Oh. I immediately began assembling a list of things I might need for a heart patient.
But Riggs gave the girl a single firm head shake. “Debes traerla aquì. We don’t make house calls. She has to come to us.”
“Is too far,” the girl argued. “She said, ‘Marisol, I cannot walk there. If it’s my time, mi preciosa, it’s my time.’” Her big, brown eyes filled with tears. “Please,” she begged. “Please come help her.”
“I’m sorry, Marisol,” Riggs began. “We can’t—”
And that’s when I got pissed.
Truly, the man’s bossiness knew no bounds.
He didn’t want to talk, so we didn’t talk. He wanted to sleep, so we slept. Fine. But I was not going to let him dictate the way I doctored my patients. I was in control of this situation.
“Vamonos,” I told Marisol. “The clinic’s closing down anyway. Let’s go.”
“Uh, fuck no. There’ll be absolutely no vamonos-ing,” Riggs shot back, hands on his hips. “It’s not safe to leave the compound. Remember what I told you the night of the gala? No heroics.”
He was right. He was. And under ideal circumstances, I’d like to think I might have given his idea due consideration.
But today was not that sort of day.
“I don’t remember us talking about very much last night at all, Mr. Riggs. So you can stay behind if you’d like, but I’m going. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
5
Riggs
I wanted to throttle him. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was a strong one. I was still kicking myself for crossing a line with a principal last night, and he’d provided me with an easy excuse to take my frustrations out on him.
“I absolutely can stop you,” I bit out. “Pretty sure I can incapacitate you right here, right now.”
Carter met my eyes. I’d expected a continuation of his defiance, but his deep blue gaze held serious concern. “Please, Riggs. We have the afternoon free anyway, and I can’t let someone die on my watch if there’s any way I can help them. Surely, you understand that feeling. You’re a soldier.”
His sincerity stopped me in my tracks, just long enough for him to take advantage and bolt out the door with the go-bag I’d put together with the necessary items we’d need in a fast evacuation situation as well as the portable AED machine. “Grab the EKG,” he called over his shoulder.
Had I tried arguing, I would have been arguing with a Carter-shaped dust cloud. He was already out the door, and I was going to lose him if I didn’t hustle to catch up. I grabbed the portable EKG and the big trauma backpack, patting myself down to make sure I had everything I needed. Knife, gun…
I snorted when I found the tin of salve Carter had handed me the night before during the “attack” from one of his fangirls—the tin I’d picked up that morning and stuck in my pocket for reasons I didn’t want to think about too much.
I trust you, Riggs.
I tossed the tin in the backpack with the supplies and raced after him.
And came skidding to a halt when I saw Carter and Marisol approaching a footpath that led directly up the mountain.
“Nope,” I said, already pouring sweat. “Not carrying all this stuff up that hill.” Not only would it suck, but my hands wouldn’t be free in case I needed to react to a security situation.
“There is a truck at my friend’s house here in town,” Marisol said hesitantly. “Maybe he will drive us.”
Her friend turned out to be perfectly willing to drive us. For a large fee. And only if we sat in the back like cargo.