Pregnant with the Soldier's Son by Amy Ruttan

Author:Amy Ruttan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“WE NEED TO get this man up to an O.R., stat!” Clint held his hands on the man’s chest, trying to keep the blood from gushing out of the gunshot wound in his chest. He hated guns. He hated the destruction they caused.

The doors opened and his interns pushed the gurney toward the O.R. while he barked orders, and as they raced down the hall, flashes of his time in the insurgent compound flashed around him.

Familiar faces of his captors began to appear in the crowds as he moved down the halls.

Focus.

Clint shook his head to clear the thoughts. He couldn’t let them jangle his mind right now. He couldn’t lose control. The life of the man beneath him depended on him keeping it together.

When they were in the O.R., he leaped off his patient and had one of his residents take over as he scrubbed in.

He pressed the bar and let the water run over his hands, scrubbing them over and over with soap.

“Dr. Allen?”

Clint turned to see Ingrid’s replacement standing there with an X-ray. “Yes, Dr. Misasi.”

“His X-rays show that he has fractured ribs.”

Dammit.

Clint took the X-ray and held it up to the light. “It’s not too bad. We can still go in. Will you assist me, Dr. Misasi?”

Dr. Misasi nodded his head. “Of course.”

“Good. Scrub in. We have to move fast. The patient is losing a lot of blood.”

“Right away.”

“Amputate his arm. Do it now!”

Clint froze as that voice from his past infiltrated his brain.

“Give me some morphine or something!” Clint demanded from the insurgent.

“No. You will do the amputation now or I will lash you again. Do it. Do it now.”

Clint glanced at the young boy, shivering.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Dr. Allen?”

Clint jumped and gripped the sink. He was still in the scrub room. The clean, antiseptic scrub room, and beyond him was his patient with a GSW, one who was sedated and would receive the correct care.

This patient wouldn’t feel him cracking his chest.

This patient wouldn’t scream.

The screams echoed between his ears.

Shake it off.

“Dr. Allen?” Dr. Misasi asked. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He turned back to the sink and began to scrub it all away. He had to keep the flashes of his capture away.

Right now he had a job to do.

When he was done, he headed into the O.R. where his scrub nurse gowned him and held out gloves which he slipped his hands into.

“He’s ready for you, Dr. Allen,” Nurse Warren said.

Clint headed over to his patient, but not before he glanced up into the gallery and saw Ingrid sitting there. She was the only one in the gallery, watching.

It gave him a thrill that she was here watching him.

Keep it together.

“Ten blade.”

* * *

I miss surgery.

Ingrid watched longingly through the gallery window as Clint operated on a police officer who had been shot in the line of duty.

She’d spent the morning with Jase. Not that they had much interaction with him being on a ventilator, but he was doing good.

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