I’m not a surgeon so I don’t operate on Tess, but when my shift is done, I find myself waiting outside the theater for news of how it went. When Dr. Whiteshaw finally emerges hours later, he finds me still waiting there and debriefs me. I ask if I can be the one to relate the news to her husband given I treated her in the ER and he agrees.
When I make my way down to the guest area, I’m informed by the charge nurse that the ‘da Silva army’ as she refers to them has been moved to a private waiting room because the sheer volume of people who turned up to wait for news had become unmanageable.
At least two dozen men and women fill the room they’ve been moved to. They sit in smaller groups, talking quietly and lending silent support to their boss. There’s something about seeing that display of loyalty that warms my heart.
He’s sitting between two men, his elbows on his knees, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. It’s still full and it’s clear he’s using it more as a fidget prop than for the caffeine.
His eyes snap up to mine when I walk in and then he’s up and striding across the room towards me, an expectant and cautiously hopeful look on his face.
I smile and he stops abruptly, his eyes widening.
“She’s alive and she’s stable,” I tell him.
An unrecognizable noise bursts loudly from his lips as if all of the swirling emotions inside him try to rush out at once. He bends at the waist and places shaky hands on even shakier knees as he fights to control what I can only assume is the mad torrent of feelings crashing through him.
“The bullet tore through her spleen so she’s going to have a bit of a recovery, but they were able to stitch her up. She’ll be sedated for a while, but you can go see her. You can sit with her.”
He straightens and hugs the man I’ve now come to realize is his second in command as the others whoop around him and celebrate. Before I know what’s happening, I’m engulfed in a bear hug by one of the other men in the room. He picks me up off the ground and sets me back down only long enough for someone else to hug me. I can’t help but laugh at their collective happiness.
“Congratulations,” I say, genuinely happy for them.
They deserve a few minutes alone before I take them to her room, so I start to walk out when he stops me.
“Doctor,” he calls.
I turn to find him walking towards me. He looms over me, every inch the intimidating cartel boss. Then he extends a hand towards me.
“Thank you,” he says profoundly, inclining his head. “I’m forever in your debt for saving her.”
I know what that means in his world. I take his hand even as I say, “That’s not necess–”
“Anything you want, anytime,” he interrupts. “It’s yours. No questions asked.”
He motions over his shoulder without looking and a man walks up to us.
Equally as tall, equally as attractive as his boss, he rakes an assessing gaze down my body. His stare feels anything but clinical. He looks at me like a man stares at a woman in a bar, except I’m makeup free, in scrubs, and sporting a messy bun.
“I’m Thiago and this is Joaquín. When you decide to call in your favor, he’ll help you get in touch with me. Day or night. He’ll explain how it works, then you can take me to see Tess,” he says, nodding at his man then walking back to get his things from his seat.
Joaquín hands me a card, never ripping his gaze away from mine. “When you’re ready, call this number and I’ll pick up.” His intense stare drags across my face and down to my mouth, sending an instant tingle down my spine. “That’s quite a power you’ve been given. Use it wisely…?”
“Dr. Cavanaugh.”
His lips twitch. “No first name?”
Something in his gaze tells me to be on guard around him.
“I didn’t spend six years in medical school just to hand out my first name to every man who asks for it.”
The slow smirk that pulls at his mouth sends a delicious shiver rippling through my body. “I’ll just have to discover it for myself then, won’t I?”
The interest in his eyes is misplaced and unwelcome. At least that’s what I try to communicate to my body when deep arousal wakes and coils hotly in my core in reaction to the matching dimples that appear on either one of his cheeks.
I pocket the card and leave, noting with dispassionate interest that my heart is beating faster than before. Awareness crawls up my back in response to the stare I feel burning ardently into my ass as I walk away.
Thiago meets me outside the waiting room and we walk together to the second floor where all post-op patients are housed until they move out of critical care.
The blinds are pulled up when we get to her room. Thiago’s gaze moves through the window to where Tess lies intubated in a large bed. She looks small in the bed surrounded by all those machines.
Chaos swirls in his eyes as he stares at her. He lifts a hand to the glass, resting his palm against the window and I swear, I can hear his fluttering heartbeat from here.
His voice is rough as gravel when he speaks.
“Can I touch her?”
I’m about to say no but then I think about what I’d want if the roles were reversed. If I loved someone that much, no one could stop me from touching them.
I nod slowly. “Just be careful not to jostle her or move her body in any way. And if anyone asks, I said that you absolutely could not touch her. No way in hell, in fact.”
A smile touches his lips. He’s moving and pushing the door open before I speak again.
“Mr. da Silva–.”
“Thiago,” he corrects, looking. over his shoulder at me.
“Thiago.” I lift my eyes up to his. “There’s one more thing you should know before you go in there.”
