Release Party Bonus Excerpt 2--Another Rember Me Teaser

Here's a glimpse of my WIP (Remember Me) hero--Robert Livingston (who's a continuing character from Because of a Boy)...

****

"Finish prepping her," Neurosurgeon Robert Livingston demanded, his gaze lowering to his patient's now-relaxed features. "I want to be in there looking for bleeders in five minutes."

He made himself let go of her hand as she was intubated. Studied the portable CT scans the ER had captured on their latest high-tech toy. Focused on the challenges of the case, instead of the rush of unprofessional protectiveness he'd felt for the gravely-injured woman who'd been frantically trying to crawl off his operating table.

Jane Doe's skull hadn't been breached by whatever had struck her--a pipe, maybe something smaller. But there was significant damage. The CT scan showed a compound fracture, a subdural hematoma beneath and other lesions that could become life threatening. Reversing the damage, even delicately, would increase the risk of complications. Permanent debilitation. But he had to stop the bleeding. Remove any debris that might cause a clot or escalating pressure and swelling.

Then all there'd be left to do was wait, and hope.

It will be okay...

Trust me.

Every person in the OR had frozen at his unprofessional lapse. Her odds of a full recovery were around 50/50 at best.

But she'd been frantic. Terrified. Desperate. And then she'd grabbed his hand, and he'd fallen into those expressive brown eyes--just like Jacob's eyes. And in the face of her all-consuming fear, he'd found himself promising whatever he had to, just as he had with his baby brother over twenty years ago.

"I have to re-scrub." He turned away while his surgical intern stabilized the patient's head, covering everything but the shaved area around the injury with sterile dressings. "We open in two minutes."

It had been drilled into him in med school that his patients's problems outside the hospital were beyond his control. So were the many possible complications they faced during recovery. But in the OR, the control was his. And he was good at what he did. The best in the state, tops in his field nationally. He lost very few patients, and his were the most delicate trauma cases of all.

And, damn it, he wasn't losing this one.

Not because of an emotional lapse that had tapped into decade's-old memories of watching helplessly while Jacob slipped away.

He turned on the taps and lathered up. Breaking the seal on a fresh brush, he scrubbed from his nails to his elbows. His fingers clenched at the memory of his Jane Doe's hand trembling in his. The strength that had fueled her determination to run, even though she'd been weak from heavy blood loss.

And he'd found himself equally determined to protect her. To defend her from whatever she was so certain was closing in.

The brush clattered to the floor.

Damn it!

He opened another from it's sterile packaging.

Focus, man.

Get it together.

He was a doctor. His patient was perfectly safe now, whoever had hurt her, and it was the police's job to keep her that way. He'd said what he had to. Calmed her down so his team could finish prepping for surgery. He'd have done the same thing for anyone in her emotional state.
This case was no different than any other.

He scrubbed harder.

He'd never promised a patient anything before. And he'd have promised this one even more. Whatever it took to ease the panic consuming her so completely.

You have to help me get out of here...

He shook his head. Began to rinse--fingers up, letting the sterile water wash the soap downward, away from his fingers.

It was time to work his magic, then send Jane Doe on her way. His focus had to stay on patching her up, so she could go wherever she so desperately needed to go--before he became even more irrationally attached to helping her get there.