Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,38

dog a little closer.

“We do need to keep him available to help on a case,” Aaron said. “He knows Miss Paula and she feels safer in the hospital with company. So far, he hasn’t been a hinderance to her care, so I’d really appreciate it if he could remain here with my partner, Ms. Matthews,” he said, nodding her direction, “while she keeps Miss Paula company.”

His partner? Brianna sobered and sat a little straighter. He considered her a partner and showed his respect for her in that two-word title. Had a man ever considered her a partner, an equal? Not that she could remember. Aaron did. In fact, from the moment he’d carried her out of that mansion and stayed with her the entire helicopter ride to the hospital, he’d shown her nothing but respect and friendship.

“Does he have fleas?” the nurse asked, sounding a little more cooperative, but still eyeing Stanley like he was a mangy escapee from the pound.

Before Brianna could reply, Paula shook her head. “No, I bathed him…for that just…a week ago.”

The nurse studied her, then Aaron, and finally her gaze settled on Brianna and Stanley. Brianna was as anxious as she’d been the day her parents were making the decision whether or not to adopt her from the Sisters of the Sacred Heart orphanage.

“Policy is no animals except service animals are permitted in the building,” Teri said. “So I’m assuming he’s a service dog of some sort?”

“Yes,” Brianna, Aaron and Paula all said at once.

“Good. That means he’s not going to cause any trouble or make any messes, right?”

They all agreed.

“I’ll even take him outside before I leave,” Aaron said, standing as the nurse passed by.

“Thank you. And no more questions for your other witness. She needs to rest before her next treatment.”

And with that the nurse opened the door, propped it open with one foot while pressing the hand sanitizer button on the wall and rubbed the cleanser all over her hands on her way out the door. The act so smooth, she obviously practiced it every time she left a patient’s room.

“I’d better keep my promise,” Aaron said, reaching for Stanley’s leash.

“I like my nurse,” Paula said after he left.

“Why?” Brianna asked, already suspecting the answer.

Paula grinned. “She made your detective sweat.”

“Good, you’re awake. I’d hate for you to miss this part,” he said staring down into the brown eyes, pupils dilated with fear along with the lingering effects of the opioid he’d laced the guy’s bottle of booze with. The donor struggled to pull free, his once powerful muscles straining to no avail against the leather restraints.

Amazing how trusting some of these creatures became when you dangled expensive liquor in front of their faces. Like a big mouth bass seeing a nightcrawler wiggling on a hook in the water. Temptation always leads to the fall.

“So, now that you’re awake, we can begin. You are going to become a productive part of society. Instead of taking, you’re going to give back.”

He pulled the cap off the large bore IV needle and held it up to where the two brown eyes could focus on it in the overhead fluorescent lighting. “This is a sixteen-gauge angiocath needle. One large enough for blood to pass through it. Whose blood you ask?” He laughed and listened to the sound bounce off the cement blocks of the room. “Why, yours, of course.”

Taking a clean alcohol swab, he scrubbed at the specimen’s left brachial artery. The big vein popped up in the emaciated arm. One thing about drunks over addicts, their veins weren’t shot all to hell.

With a steady hand he plunged the needle beneath the skin and straight into the vein, getting an immediate flash of blood into the chamber. He pulled back on the needle, leaving the plastic cannula in place and quickly hooked on the blood tubing. Reaching to the side, he opened the blue plastic clamp to allow the blood to fill the length of tubing to the first collection bag.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, tucking the thick thermal blanket around the body. “It doesn’t do for you to get chilled. Slows the blood removal process down. And we can’t have that.”

He’d learned that months ago with the violinist. As much as he’d enjoyed seeing her naked body as he’d worked, warm bodies gave up their blood so much easier.

The eyes in his donor grew wider and his breathing quickened. He patted the shoulder soothingly. “No need to get anxious, you can’t fight this.