Loving a Bad Boy by Erosa Knowles

some bandages to
stop the bleeding,” she lied as she stepped around him. This time
he held up his hand and opened it to reveal a phone. The fact that
it was covered in his blood was not the reason for her hesitation,
at least that’s what she told herself. As a medical professional,
she knew the dangers of contact with body fluids.
    “ Call him.” His gaze
sharpened, and then as though he lost the battle, they dimmed.
“Please,” he whispered, and slumped in the chair. The phone
clattered to the floor. Heart racing, she pulled him down to the
floor, glad he was out of it as his body landed with a thump. Then
she ran from the room, anxious to stop the flow of
blood.
    The thought of him dying in her kitchen
trumped his request for no hospital. Despite his pleas, it was
irresponsible for her as a registered nurse, not to call for
additional assistance. First, she needed to stop the bleeding, and
then she would call.
    In her closet, she found her training bag,
leftover from her school days. Grabbing it, she headed for the
kitchen, determined to do what she could to save her friend and
neighbor. As she cut away his shirt, she wondered what'd happened.
Why had he come here? They had eaten dinner together several times
over the past two months, and she’d say they were cordial, but not
close friends. He knew she was a nurse, Tara had told him that the
first time they’d gotten together for dinner, but that didn’t
explain why he came here. As a nurse, he knew she would be bound by
certain oaths.
    “ What have you been up
to?” she whispered, as the evidence of a bullet entering his side
became evident. Turning him onto his side, she looked at his back
and released a sigh. The bullet had passed through. After pulling
on a pair of gloves, she got to work sterilizing and cleaning her
tools and the area.
    “ Good thing you’re out of
it, because this is going to hurt,” she murmured.
    His muscles quivered and jerked once or
twice, but otherwise he remained unconscious throughout her
ministrations. She got to work cleaning and dressing the wound.
Applying pressure to stop the flow of blood, she decided to leave
the stitching for Tex’s doctor after more thorough tests.
    Ten minutes later, she looked at his side.
There was minimal leakage. A long sigh escaped her dry lips. No
telling how much blood had already been lost. Pleased that the
blood flow had slowed to a trickle, she covered his injury with
gauze and a bandage. Tex still needed medical care, but this would
hold him until he saw his doctor. Standing, she stretched and
twisted, working the kinks out of her back as she peeled off her
gloves.
    Just as she stepped into the hall, intent on
grabbing a blanket to cover her sleeping patient, an unfamiliar
jingle rent the air. She jumped, startled at the unexpected sound
this time of the morning. Her gaze swung around the room searching
for the location of the noise. The jingle stopped, and then started
over again.
    After realizing it was Tex’s phone, she
walked over to where it had fallen onto the floor. It was one of
those fancy models with all types of pictures on the front screen.
The noise stopped, but she knew it would ring again.
    Tex had asked her to call someone. No doubt
that person was calling him. He had been adamant that she contact
this fellow. What was his name? Her mind blanked as she stared at
the small device. Now that Tex was stabilized, she remembered the
quandary she had found herself in. If she talked to this guy, the
chances of Tex getting the professional medical care he needed
might be slim if he refused to take Tex to the hospital. She bit
down on the corner of her lip as she gazed at him on the floor. Did
she want to get more involved than she was already? Professionally,
this might damage her. But she couldn’t let him bleed to death.
Part of her job was doing what she knew was right.
    Just as she predicted, the phone jingled
again. Gathering her courage, she wiped the phone before