SEIZED, A Romantic Suspense Novella

Seized

By Suzanne Ferrell

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Table of Contens

Copyright

Dedication

To all the Nurse Anesthetists I’ve had the pleasure of working with over the three decades of my nursing career. You are the unsung heroes of Labor & Delivery, and I thank you for your dedication, your expertise, your compassion and quite often your sense of humor. You’ve always made my job easier.

To Colleen, Carol and Keith. Thank you for your invaluable help on the technical parts of this book. Your vast knowledge of your equipment and medications always amazes me. I hope I did it justice.

Prologue

June

“I
’m sorry, Mr. Wilkes. There was nothing more we could do.”

The man—the emergency room nurses had called him a resident, dressed in green scrub pants and shirt, his surgical mask hanging loosely tied around his neck and draping down onto the front of his chest—gave him a sympathetic look and settled one hand on his shoulder. “We tried everything we could, there was just too much internal damage and your wife had already lost too much blood.”

He shook off the young surgeon’s hand and sank onto the plastic-covered waiting-room chair behind him. He ran his hand over his nearly balding head and stared down between his work boots still caked with the mud from the construction site where he’d gotten the news that Betsy had been in an accident on the outer belt.

Betsy. Gone.

Grief slammed into him like a sucker punch in a bar fight.

Since the day they’d met, she’d been his lifeline, his salvation. She’d kept his head above water whenever the images of his time in Afghanistan threatened to pull him deep into the abyss. How would he survive without her?

He struggled to take in a breath then another and another. All of a sudden he was gasping for air like he’d run a fifty-mile training mission with a full pack.

“Easy, slow your breathing down,” the other man said, sitting two seats away, but turning to focus on him. “Slow it down or you’ll pass out from the loss of carbon dioxide.”

A physiology lesson? Now? He’d just lost the most important person in the world and this is the comfort this guy gives him?

His anger flared through the fog of despair, bringing the desired result the surgeon wanted, his breathing slowed. Then he remembered it wasn’t just Betsy he’d lost.

There were two of them.

“The…the baby?” He could barely get the question out through the lump stuck in his throat.

The resident surgeon shook his head. “We couldn’t save either one. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Wow. He’d heard those words on all the crime shows for years. They sounded and felt so hollow. No comfort in them whatsoever.

A sound cut through his pain. A woman’s gasp.

He turned to see the other people in the waiting room. A well-dressed woman in pearls and hair cut in a fashionable style had her hands over her mouth and tears streaming from eyes filled with relief. Standing next to where she sat was a man most people in the state knew from television broadcasts, Senator Howard Klein.

“Because we got him into the OR quickly, we were able to not only stop the bleeding but save his leg, Senator,” another surgeon said. He was an older man dressed in the same scrubs as the younger man who’d delivered his devastating news. “You can see your son once he gets to his room and the police allow visitors.”

“Police?” the Senator asked, his voice full of condescension.

“Anytime there is a death in an accident, the police have to investigate the situation. I’m sure it’s just a formality, sir.”

The surgeon shook the Senator’s hand and Wilkes could no longer hear what was said, but read the joy on the mother’s face.

“Who is that?” he asked the resident beside him. “The doctor with the Senator.”

“Dr. Hodges.”

“Did he work on Betsy?”

“As the attending on call, Dr. Hodges oversees all cases that come into the ER this weekend. But I assure you your wife was already getting the attention she needed.”

He focused on the young doctor’s face, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice, a sign to anyone who knew him not to feed him any bullshit. “Did. He. Work. On. My. Wife?”

Backing away in his seat, the resident cast his eyes sideways at his mentor then nodded. “Yes. Dr. Hodges did come in once the case was underway. But as I said, by that time your wife had lost quite a bit of blood and the internal damage was too great—”

“If she’d been in the OR faster, would she have been saved? If he’d worked on her first?”

“There’s no way of knowing—”

“But there might’ve been a chance?”

“There’s always a possibility, but the internal damage—”

“I got it. Thank you.”

The young surgeon swallowed a few times then left him alone.

He sat in the dark corner, eyes focused on the other family in the room. Senator Klein, one of the people who’d voted to deploy his reserve unit to the war. The bastard who voted against soldiers receiving counseling for PTSD—the very kind of care his beloved Betsy had been doing when they met. He let his anger narrow and focus until clarity hit him.

The Senator and his entourage finally left. Still he sat in the silent room. Finally, the housekeeping staff filtered in to begin their nightly cleaning and he knew it was time to go home.

Home.

Home was where Betsy was, not the empty house they’d bought last winter when they’d decided to start a family. Now there would be no family. No Betsy. No home.

Why?

Because the Senator’s son was drunk—he’d heard that said by hospital employees in the elevator right after he’d arrived—and slammed his Beemer into the back of Betsy’s car so hard it shoved her into the semi stopped in front of her.

But the surgeon, Dr. Hodges, had acted quick enough to save the bastard’s leg, but not Betsy’s life.

It wasn’t right.

Someone should pay.

Chapter One

December 4
^th

(
Six months later
)

“
I
can’t believe you agreed to be on call for Christmas Eve,” Judy Edgars snapped, barely reining in her anger.

She hated how bitchy she sounded these days whenever the topic of her husband Dave’s job came up, but it was better to let him see her anger than her fear. It wasn’t the fear of him getting called in on a holiday that worried her. It was a repeat of his getting shot over a year ago that frightened her.

Focusing on the food preparation for the night, she set a platter of sandwiches by the bowl of chips on the wet bar.

Since she was on call at the hospital tonight, with the possibility of having to go to work because of the combination of drunken partiers and icy roads, Dave, his brothers, brother-in-law and friend had moved their weekly poker game to their house for the evening. Someone had to be here for their three children.

“It’s not like I have much choice. As the new man to the SWAT team, I’m low man on the totem pole,” Dave replied as he set the extra foldout chairs around the poker table in the newly remodeled basement den. “Besides, you know we both have to take our turns at being on call. I’m a cop, you’re a nurse. It’s the nature of the beast as far as our jobs go.”

At least her job wouldn’t get her killed.

Judy swallowed down the panic that rose inside her at the thought of the danger Dave dealt with on a daily basis. “With me on call to the OR this weekend, I hoped we could have the rest of the weekends this month off to spend with the kids and your family. Wasn’t that why we moved back to Columbus from Cincinnati this summer? To be with family?”

Fighting the angry tears that seemed to be so close to the surface these days every time she and Dave fought, she turned around and opened the downstairs fridge. She clenched her jaw tight to keep from saying anything more and felt his eyes watching her as she loaded in the beer she’d bought for the guys tonight. What she really wanted to do was smash the bottles on the ground in frustration.

Finished, she closed the door, turned and leaned back against it.

Dave had straddled one of the barstools across the granite counter of the bar, folded his arms in front of him, his handsome brown eyes staring straight into her. Despite the slight slump in his shoulders, the man radiated intensity. It was one of the things about him she’d fallen in love with ten years earlier. It was also one of the things that infuriated her at times. He understood right and wrong. When he made a decision, he stuck to it. His sense of honor so ingrained he’d never cross the line—even for family.

She fought the urge to stare at his left thigh where the bullet had narrowly missed his femoral artery in the shooting, or the spot on his shoulder where the second one grazed him. If she did, she was sure he’d read on her face just how scared she was these days and that wasn’t something she wanted him to know. He believed she was strong. She could handle anything.

“Yes, we came back to be with family and for me to take the job as one of the hostage negotiators for the SWAT team, babe. It’s what you wanted—me off the tactical team, doing something safe.”

“So you’re taking holiday call to punish me for wanting to keep my husband and the father of my children safe?”

“No, I’m taking it because it’s my turn and I said I would.”

There it was, that iron will that said he wouldn’t bend on his decision no matter what she said or did.

“Believe it or not, Judy, I don’t want to punish you. I’ve been trying to please you. But nothing I do these days ever makes you happy, does it?”

Before she could answer him, her cell phone rang. They both recognized the ringtone she’d set only for the hospital. Ignoring the pointed eyebrow-lift he’d given her at the sound, she picked it up.

“What’s up?” she asked already heading upstairs to the bedroom to change into her scrubs. “Shooting? How many? Three? Damn! I’ll be there in fifteen minutes if the roads aren’t too slick.”

Dave had followed her up the stairs and stood in the doorway watching her.  “A shooting?”

“Multiple victims, that’s why they’re calling me in. The staff can only handle two of the three,” she said as she pulled off her sweatshirt and grabbed her scrub top.

“Sounds like a gang shooting.”

“Probably. But I still have to go help patch them up.” She wiggled out of her jeans then into her scrub pants.

The doorbell rang and the conversation ended as he went to answer it.

While she hurried into her work shoes she heard the arrival of the poker players. The rumble of male voices and laughter, along with the giggles of two little girls greeting their uncles rolled through the house. She let out a sigh and glanced at the crib next to their queen-sized bed and the small boy sleeping soundly. How she wished she could stay home and enjoy the evening with her family, but like Dave said, being available for their jobs is what they did, at the expense of their marriage and family.

However, as much as she hated leaving Dave and the kids, at least her job wasn’t as dangerous as his. The worst part for her was driving on Columbus’ icy roads to get to the hospital.

Swallowing down the surge of fear she had most days when she thought of the risks in his work, she gave herself a good shake. Standing here wishing for things to be different wasn’t getting her any closer to the hospital or helping save the shooting victim. Leaning down, she gave baby Wyatt a kiss on his nearly bald head then grabbed her work bag and left the bedroom.

The others had gone down to the basement family room, while Dave waited alone at the door. He held her coat for her as she slipped it on then he stepped in front of her.