Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
I spin the wheel and slam on the gas, speeding away before the doors are even fully closed.
2
KACIE
It’s rare that I actually get to take my break, but after a grueling weekend shift that meant I had to sleep the entirety of yesterday, I’m not wasting the opportunity to breathe fresh air for a minute. As a resident doctor in the ER, ninety percent of the time, there’s too much to be done to manage a proper break.
Needing out of the stuffy, bleach and sanitizer-scented air, I step outside and lean against the brick exterior of the hospital. Sighing heavily, I rest my head on the brick and let my eyes fall closed, feeling every damn knot in my muscles, ache in my ankles and feet from rushing about so much.
I love my job, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been studying and working for this for ten years, and I’m far from the end of the road. For as long as I can remember, my life’s dream has been to be a surgeon. I want to take care of people, to help them, to know how to save them. I’ve pursued it with voracity, sacrificing any chance of a social life, forgetting about dating or love so I can be the best of the best in my classes, and now, the best of the best in residency. I’m damn good at my job. I always get great reports from my mentors and all the work has been worth it.
But dammit, I’m still tired as hell.
My friends—who I see every couple of months if I’m lucky and I’m not very close to because I never have time—are getting married or buying houses, and I’m still doing the same thing I’ve always done. Working. It’s worth it. It will be worth it. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the tiniest pinch of jealousy whenever I see their wedding posts or pregnancy announcements.
I’m only twenty-eight. I have time. But I’m keenly aware that when I become a surgeon, I’ll still be just as dedicated to my work. Will there ever be room for anyone or anything else in my life?
I’m jolted out of my mess of thoughts by a hand wrapping around my arm and a palm pressing over my mouth. I try to scream but can’t even part my lips, and my breath gets stuck in my throat.
My eyes fly open and I desperately take in the sight of the two men before me. The one with his hand over my mouth and his other hand holding my wrists together has dark eyes and a slightly crooked nose. The second, who I catch glimpses of as the first yanks me away from the building, is very tall with green eyes and stubble. It’s that one who says to me, “We’re not gonna hurt you, Doc. We just need your help, all right?”
I don’t trust this man for shit, but there’s a weird sincerity in his eyes that I can’t help but notice. I try to dig my heels in as they drag me away from the hospital, but they’re both practically double my size in both height and muscle. I don’t remember the last time I saw the inside of a gym, and though I think I’m pretty strong thanks to the shit I have to deal with at work, I’m pathetically outgunned here.
My eyes flick from side to side, but there’s no one else out here. Even if there was, the two men block my body with their size and there’s no way anyone would see me properly. The first man’s hand is still pressed over my face, so there’s no way I can make a noise to alert anyone.
I struggle as they rush me around the building to where a fancy black car is idling in the lane between the public parking lot and the staff parking. Shit! What is it those warnings always say? Don’t let them take you to a second location?
I’m so screwed.
In a blur, the back doors open and I’m shoved inside, squished between the two men who took me. One last time, I try to kick out, to do anything to get myself out of this shit show, but before the doors are even slammed closed, the driver makes a tight u-turn and speeds away.
“Let her go. It’s not like she’s got a gun stashed in those scrubs,” the driver says as we reach the highway, the hospital not even visible behind us.
The man to my left chuckles, and the man on my right who’s been holding me finally drops his hands.
I take a huge, gasping breath, my head swinging from side to side freely now, taking in every detail I can before my eyes come to rest on a bright blue gaze in the driver’s rearview mirror. I must be losing it because I swear my heart stops in my chest as we make eye contact.