Название: Secret Agent Affair
Автор: Marie Ferrarella
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: The Doctors Pulaski
isbn: 9781408908693
isbn:
“That could get infected.”
She was talking about his wound, he thought, his brain oddly feverish. Maybe she had hit him harder than he thought. “And that’s your concern how?”
“I’m a doctor,” the woman repeated for the third time. She was really getting on his nerves.
“You keep saying that,” he accused angrily.
To his surprise, he saw her smile. Or was that just a hallucination? “And I’ll keep repeating it until you let me treat you.”
He knew better, he really did. But he felt dangerously light-headed. Losing all that blood and then getting hit by a car, even if it wasn’t going all that fast, had conspired to wreck havoc on his stamina. He began to doubt he could make it back to the hotel room.
And there were cops out. It would be just his luck to attract the attention of one of them. Right now, he wasn’t at liberty to explain to one of New York’s finest why he was weaving through the streets like a drunken sailor with a gunshot wound.
Like it or not—and he didn’t—he was going to have to take a chance on this woman.
“Okay,” he growled in his most threatening voice. “But just so you know, I’m armed and dangerous.”
Her father had taught her that when she had her back up against a wall, she needed to tough it out and put on the bravest face she could, even if her insides were rapidly turning to jelly.
“Never thought anything else,” Marja replied matter-of-factly as she helped the wounded stranger into her car.
He passed out the moment she shut the door.
Chapter 2
Marja drove quickly, squeaking through amber lights about to turn red. She hoped all the police squad cars were in another part of the city. She’d deliberately left the radio off so that she could hear her passenger in case he suddenly came to and said something.
He didn’t.
The stranger was still out cold a few minutes later when she pulled into the underground parking garage located directly beneath her apartment building.
Zipping into the assigned parking space, she turned off the engine and eyed the man slumped over beside her.
“Okay, we’re here,” she announced. There was absolutely no indication that he’d heard her. Nudging him, first gently, then with feeling, accomplished nothing. Marja placed her fingertips to his throat and felt for his pulse. He was still alive. “Wake up,” she ordered loudly.
His eyes remained closed.
Okay, now what? she wondered.
Maybe he’d lost more blood than she’d thought. Marja chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. She needed to get him upstairs. No way could she get him out of the car and into the elevator by herself.
Marja looked at the stranger’s face. For a moment she entertained the idea of turning around and driving back to the hospital. Plenty of people could help her there.
But she’d told him that she wouldn’t and for some reason she couldn’t quite put into words, she felt that it was important that she not lie to the man.
With a sigh, she took out her cell phone. She pressed the keypad for Tania, the only one of her sisters who still lived in the apartment that had originally housed Sasha, Natalya and Kady before all three of them had gotten married. Pretty soon, she knew it would be only her living there. But right now, she shared the three-bedroom apartment with Tania—when her sister wasn’t staying over at her fiancé Jesse’s place.
The phone on the other end of the line stopped ringing.
“Where the hell are you?” Tania demanded with exasperation the moment she came on. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I need the car. They called me in to cover for Michaelson. If I don’t get to the hospital in fifteen minutes, I’m going to be late for my shift.”
Marja picked her words carefully. She didn’t want to say any more over the phone than she absolutely had to. “I need you to come down, Tania.” She glanced toward the slumped figure to her right. “I’ve, um, got a slight problem.”
For a moment there was silence, then anger. “There better be nothing wrong with the car or you’re going to be facing more than just a ‘slight’ problem,” Tania warned her.
The next moment the connection was abruptly terminated.
Marja closed her cell phone, pocketing it along with her car keys. Squaring her shoulders, she braced herself for a lecture when Tania arrived. The car was really Tania’s, although they did share it. Her sister had bought it from Sasha after their oldest sister had purchased a new one, an SUV to accommodate her family increasing by one. In its time, the vehicle had ferried all five of the Pulaski women to and from the hospital, as well as the house in Queens where they all grew up and where their parents still resided.
Deciding to give it one more try, Marja shook her unconscious passenger’s shoulder again and wound up with the same results.
“If you know what’s good for you,” she murmured to the unconscious stranger, “you’ll come to—fast.”
The elevator leading up to the other floors was located on the far side of the garage. Marja watched as the doors opened. Her sister had arrived faster than she’d anticipated.
Tania, casually dressed in jeans and a blue pullover sweater, a giant purse slung over her shoulder, quickly cut the distance between the elevator and the parked vehicle to nothing.
It wasn’t until she was only about two feet away from her car that she saw Marja wasn’t alone in it. And it wasn’t until she’d reached the car that she noticed the passenger’s condition.
Marja was already out. Rounding the hood, she opened the passenger door. “I need your help to get him upstairs.”
Tania stared at her sister, stunned. She was accustomed to Marja bringing men home, but they were usually in a far better state than this one—and conscious. She looked back at the slumped passenger.
“Bringing home hospital overflow, Marysia?” she quipped.
This wasn’t the time to get into a discussion. She needed to take care of the stranger’s wound before it became infected.
“Just help me get him upstairs, Tania,” Marja said wearily. “It’s been a long night, not to mention a long day.”
Tania made no move to help. Instead she leaned over the passenger side and peered at the man.
“Scruffy, but definitely not bad-looking,” she pronounced. Straightening, she glanced at her sister, an incredulous expression on her face. “You were the one who always brought home strays,” she recalled. The habit had driven their mother crazy, despite the fact that Magda Pulaski found a way to house each and every wounded animal. “But this—” Tania gestured toward the stranger “—is over the top, even for you.”
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