Dead on Arrival (16 page)

I chuckled as I'd often wondered if the ER staff really cared or noticed anyone's clean undies. Still in the afterglow of last night, I walked much lighter, nearly prancing, and headed into the bathroom. No tissues there either. Apparently ER Dano's mom did not practice the same words of wisdom as Stella Sokol.

Laughing, I walked into the kitchen to look around as there wasn't even toilet tissue in the bathroom. Despite the Victorian setting, this was still a guy's house. On the counter was a tissue box—empty.

“Damn.” There might be some in the cabinet above, so I opened it to a pile of papers, which cascaded out at me.

I shook my head and started to grab them to shove back in when the words caught my eye. TLC. Overcharge. Carry deceased. The fake list of EMT and paramedics' names were listed as receiving cash from the undertakers, and no real names were given.

My eyes blurred. I didn't need to read any further.

ER Dano had the papers that proved the fraud at Tender Loving Care Ambulance Company so nonchalantly piled up in his kitchen cabinet—as if he didn't have a care in the world about them.

Dano was involved in the fraud.

After my “find” at ER Dano's house, and knowing he was physically all right after he insisted as much, I had showered, dressed, and headed off to work where the first thing I did, even before my morning tea, was to seek out Jagger, who I found sipping his coffee in the parking lot. When I told him about my discovery and that I had been there to nurse Dano, Jagger leaned back on the hood of his SUV and looked at me.

“Interesting.”

“Interesting? That's all you've got? Interesting?” I leaned against the side fender as my lack of sleep was already taking a toll on me. “Come on, Jagger. Obviously ER Dano is involved. He was hiding evidence in his kitchen cabinets!” And damn how I hated that. I mean the sex was great (great!), and I really cared for him—however those words would never pass my lips to Jagger's ears.

Jagger leaned closer. “If you talk a bit louder, all the employees will be able to hear.”

I curled my lips. “I'm just so pissed.” I was really pissed at fate. Here I find a hot guy, who seemed to like me, which I liked, and he's a criminal. I looked up to the clouds and shook my head. St. Theresa must have been very busy last night and my “needs” didn't qualify for prayer answering.

Jagger said, “Look, you don't have any proof of why they were there. We need that.”

I bit my lips. “Are you saying you don't think Dano is guilty? That he's not covering up the fraud?” Please. Please say it because I believe whatever you say since it's always true.

But Jagger merely said, “I'm saying we need proof. Can't close a case on assumptions. Right ones or wrong ones.” He looked past me. “Here he comes now. You'll need to get into his house again tonight and find out more. I'll go with you.”

“No!” I said way too loudly. He glared at me. “No need. I can handle Dano. You maybe should go see if Pansy's any more alert.”

Suddenly I wished I could swallow back those words.

Had I really just given Jagger an assignment? An order. Or something close to being an order?

Yikes!

He looked at me, turned, and walked away.

While Jagger swaggered away, I watched his butt moving from side to side, and I didn't even get hot. Okay, I did get a wee bit warm.

I had way too much on my mind between fraud and getting back to ER Dano's house where who knew what would happen…again.

And I hoped to hell that I wouldn't get hot at some inopportune time.

When I pushed myself up from Jagger's SUV, I wondered if he'd agreed to my “order” or would he show up tonight?

Dano smiled at me as we poured ourselves the usual morning drinks. The teabags at TLC always tasted a bit stale, but I chalked that up to cheap management.

I looked at Dano. “Any word on Pansy?”

He shook his head then winced.

“You shouldn't move like that.” I sipped at my tea, and then I winced. Really stale.

“Damn it. I'm fine. Just the external shit hurts when I move too much. No mental problems, Nightingale.” He leaned closer. “But thanks for last night,” he said way too loudly.

Everyone in the room gave a collective stare! I muttered, “Last night…we…Dano…ER Dano…Dan…I…” After a fast sip, which now tasted delicious, I said firmly, “You all know I had to wake him up to check his pupils and sanity.” I turned to walk out of the room and over my shoulder said, “That last part is still in question.”

The room roared.

I walked to the door.

And I heard Dano growl—in some amazingly sensual way!

In order to get away from being so embarrassed, I walked to Lilla's desk.

She sat there filing her nails, and I knew that all her work was already done, and now her day would consist of answering the phone, directing visitors, and snooping. Lilla was a peach!

“Hey,” I said, sitting down opposite her. “What's going on?”

“Morning,
chérie
.” She leaned closer and smiled. Very sexy-like, but I knew it wasn't as if she were flirting with me. Nope. It was more as if she
knew
something.

“What? What's going on? You have some info?” I set my tea on the edge of her desk.

“No, but you do.”

“Hm?” I leaned near. “What do you mean, Lilla?”

With her sexy smile switching to a sexy grin, she whispered, “I see you have made love.”

I blinked. Had to. Maybe her accent was confusing me, so I chuckled. “This is funny. I thought you just said I'd had sex—”

With a bright red polished hand of long nails, she waved in the air, “You heard correctly, my
chérie
. Dano or Jagger?”

I choked on nothing. My hands, sans any long nails or bordello polish, flailed in the air, sending my tea mug spilling over. “Geez! Sorry!”

Lilla laughed, pulled several tissues from her container, and said, “Relax. It only shows to woman like
moi
, who are astute in those matters.”

`“Oh, yeah. That makes me feel much better.” I took some tissue and wiped the desk. Luckily the mug had only been half-full, and there were no papers nearby to get soaked. The closest one only got a beige splash of a stain. “Sorry.” I picked it up. Oh, boy. I was correct.

Dano had a similar run sheet like this one, only a few of the medication charges were different, but I could swear the date, times, and names were the same. I explained what I'd found to Lilla, and she showed me all the papers that recently had come in to be filed.

One more was the same. Identical information except for the final numbers—so one had to have been doctored.

“I have to go back to Dano's tonight—”

Before I could finish, Lilla was up and wiping vigorously at my scrubs top, which didn't even get wet.

“What are you—” I asked.

“Don't worry,
chérie
, that will come out. You use some…”

I know she kept talking, kinda wildly actually, but then I looked up to see a reflection in the glass partition behind Lilla's desk.

“That'd be okay with Dano,” ER Dano said, standing behind me, “but he wonders what for.”

Oh, no! I smiled, Lilla wiped, and then I said, “We had a date, silly, or did you forget?”

Thank goodness for Lilla's fast actions and my quick mind!

I slowly turned around, pushed Lilla's hand away because I think she was so flustered she kept wiping at nothing, and I didn't want Dano to notice. “Oh, hey. I'll bring dinner. How's that? Sure. I'll bring the eats.”

That implied I'd cook it, but before I could clarify it'd be takeout, Dano agreed and hurried past us.

I flopped backward in my chair and said, “I have to call my mother to make my dinner.”

Lilla laughed, but I wasn't feeling real jovial.

I sat in the back of #456 while Buzz drove at top speed. Premature labor. That was the call, and I prayed the baby would calm down and decide a Friday was not a good day to be born.

At least I'd had some time to call Stella Sokol before we got the call. It took several minutes to clarify that I didn't have time to stay and eat but would she make me a takeout dinner for two. Since today was Friday, my mother was making potato pancakes. Not exactly sensual gourmet aphrodisiacs, but mom made the same menu on the same day of the week forever.

Even before I was born. That's how far back forever went.

I looked up toward the window between the cab and the back of the ambulance and noticed Dano's hair just about touching his neckline. Damn. He looked hot even from the back.

I really wished he wasn't involved in the fraud or…gulp…the stabbings.

Relying on gut instinct had gotten me through years of nursing and saving lives. Right now my gut said Dano wasn't involved. I decided I'd be looking for evidence to clear his name instead of convict him.

And besides my gut—I had Jagger.

If he'd thought Dano was guilty or a threat, he wouldn't let me go in alone.

So the proof would be found out tonight
if
Jagger showed up.

Dano had joined me in the back of the ambulance since the patient really did appear to be in labor. We'd called the ER, gotten orders from Dr. Pringle, and were now following them the best we could.

However, I knew these little ones could have a mind of their own.

Dano adjusted the IV while Buzz pulled the ambulance out of the condo parking lot where the woman, Angie, had lived. Her husband was at work, so I called him to tell him to meet us at St. Greg's while Dano and Buzz had worked on Angie in her living room.

Now she looked up at Dano. Her eyes glistened with tears as she asked, “Is my baby…my baby going to—”

Dano touched her arm. “Naw. I'm taking over. This kid is going to stop running the show and let us pros take over.”

Tears formed in my eyes. Not only did the gruff, burned out paramedic do his medical treatments to perfection, but when push came to shove, his bedside manner adjusted to meet the needs of, and to calm and relax, the patients. I could still hear the ER nurses fawning over how he always put in the IV with a saline lock, his paperwork was always in order, and he taped the IV with a “V” shaped piece of tape—all of which made their jobs easier.

What a guy.

He couldn't be involved. Just couldn't be.

Angie smiled and then grimaced. “Oh. Oh. Oh, god.”

“What?” Dano asked, feeling her abdomen then listening to the fetal heartbeat. I could hear him curse when he turned his head to the side, obviously so she couldn't hear and become alarmed. “What is it, Angie?”

“I think, well, I've never had a baby before, but I think my water broke.”

Dano and I looked at each other. I'm sure a similar curse came to both of our minds, but we held back.

Dano banged on the window to Buzz. “Step on it!”

“Right, boss,” he said and swerved so hard I toppled into Dano's shoulder.

But neither of us could say a thing because with Dano's hand still on Angie's abdomen, and with her facial expression, I knew she was heavily contracting.

Just like I knew this baby was going to be born today—soon.

“Hold on, honey,” Dano assured Angie.

She looked from him to me and said, “I can't.”

Dano kept talking softly to her, getting her to pant through contractions so she wouldn't push, and checking the fetal heartbeat.

I examined her to see if there was any sign of the baby and looked up at Dano.

“Black hair,” I said so only he could hear. “I see a bit of head crowning.”

“Shit,” he mouthed, and before I knew it, he was banging on the window ordering Buzz Lightyear to pull over to the side of the road.

And then the fun began.

Buzz hurried to the back of the ambulance, but it proved to be too close quarters for him to get near Angie too. Besides, Dano said there wasn't anything for him to do other than radio the hospital and be the go between.

At first Buzz looked pissed. I guessed he wanted in on the excitement of a delivery, but since I'd worked OB for many years, Dano kept me assisting.

I followed his instructions of what to grab from where. Although I'd been in delivery for hundreds of babies, I didn't know the setup of the ambulance well enough yet, and this little one might be way too little without any NICU equipment or staff here.

The only thing going for us was that Angie's abdomen was a good size, so I silently prayed her calculated date wasn't correct, and the baby would have already developed lungs to survive.

Please, Saint Theresa.

“Angie,” I asked, “who is your doctor?”

“Greenberg,” she managed through heavy breaths.

I felt my forehead wrinkle and looked at Dano. Dr. Greenberg was a general practitioner and not even in a family practice business. “I mean your OB doctor, hon. Who has been seeing you since you became pregnant?”

Angie's eyes spilled over. “My husband lost his job, and we didn't have insurance. We couldn't afford it. So—”

I patted her hand. “No problem. This little one is going to be fine,” I lied. Geez. She didn't have any prenatal care, went into premature labor (maybe), and couldn't afford the impending hospital bills
or
this ambulance ride to boot.

Damn insurance again.

Buzz had stayed outside the backdoor to direct traffic away and prevent rubbernecking. He'd pulled the ambulance into a scenic overlook off the highway, but cars still slowed when they noticed us. Every once in a while he'd step closer to the door and ask how things were going until Dano growled at him that we'd let him know when he needed to.

Angie began to scream.

Dano lifted the blankets from her, and we both looked to see the black hair very obvious now. I thought the head looked much bigger than a preemie's and hoped Angie had been wrong on her due date.

“It looks a decent size,” I whispered to him, close to his ear as a matter of fact, since Angie was now in such pain and yelling.

“Let's hope,” he added.

Dano explained that we couldn't give her anything for pain and instructed her again on breathing. I stuck on a pair of rubber gloves and assisted Dano as he told me what to do.

Even though I handled emergencies very well, he had a way of calming me more, and thank goodness it also worked on Angie. Her hysteria turned into compliance and following his instructions.

“I want my baby to live,” she repeated several times.

I winked at her. “He or she will. Don't worry. Just do as we say and things will be fine.”

I looked down to see Dano grimace and wondered if his head hurt. Then I noticed the baby's head was out—and the cord was wrapped tightly around its neck.

Damn!

“Don't push,” he ordered, and the seriousness in his voice had Angie panting instead.

“Good girl. That's right. Don't push right now,” I kept saying until Dano had the cord eased off and up and around the baby's head after several tugs.