Sam sighed.
The doctor had been listening to Mary Jo's story with fascination--I bet he watched soap operas, too.
"I'm sorry," he told me, sounding it.
"Unless you have some means of effectively restraining him, I cannot treat him here.
I won't risk my staff." "Can we have a room, then?" I asked.
Time wasn't our friend.
We could take him back to his house and take care of him .
.
.
but once Mary Jo had reminded me of the danger he'd be in wounded, in the middle of his pack, I really didn't want to take him back there and hurt him.
Sam caught my eye and looked down the line of curtained rooms to the one I'd retrieved him from.
I looked back at the doctor.
"A real room would be best.
Could we use the X-ray storage room?" The doctor frowned, but Jody came to my rescue.
"This is Doc Cornick's Mercy," she said.
"She's dating Adam Hauptman, the pack Alpha." "Who is lying in my lap," I told them.
"I'm sorry.
If it were anyone except for Adam who was hurt, we could make sure your personnel were safe--but Adam's the only one who could keep a lid on it reliably.
You are right not to risk your people.
But I've got a couple of wolves here--Mary Jo's an EMT--and we can manage on our own.
If it weren't urgent that we get started, I'd just take him home.
But if we don't do something soon, the scars will be permanent." His feet were the worst.
Wholly human and .
.
.
I could see bone under blackened skin.
He was unconscious, sweaty, and four shades paler than usual.
"What can we get you?" Fournier asked.
"A stretcher," said Mary Jo.
She looked at Sam, waiting for him to take over.