“Ah, that’s right. Let’s take a look.” Dr. Walker rubbed his hands together, warming his palms before placing them over the bruises on Callaghan’s torso. “Possibly fractured,” he said after a moment. “Maybe only bruised. How’s your breathing? Any trouble?” Briar offered him a stethoscope, and the doctor placed it on both Callaghan’s chest and his back, listening for long moments as he directed the patient to inhale and exhale. At last he sat down, looping the stethoscope around his neck. “Your lungs sound strong. Considering there is little to do to treat your ribs, I don’t think it necessary to send you out for X rays. We’ll bind you up, though. That should offer some comfort and help with the healing.”
Callaghan nodded once, which she supposed was acknowledgment and thanks rolled into one. It seemed even this hardened criminal was not immune to Dr. Walker’s generous bedside manner. The older man pushed himself to his feet just as the door opened.
Chester and another guard returned, entering the room in that swaggering way of theirs. “Any of these inmates ready?” Chester asked, his gaze falling on Callaghan, making it clear who he really wanted.
She tried not to let the fact that the guard clearly disliked him matter. If Chester was singling him out, it was just further evidence that Callaghan was a problem and probably deserving of such treatment.
“Thought we’d get them transferred to seg before our shift ends.” He stopped and hooked his thumb in his belt, legs braced apart. “Save the new guards coming in the trouble.”
Dr. Walker looked bewildered, his gaze seeking out Josiah, their interpreter in this strange new world.
Josiah pointed to the inmate with lesser injuries. “This one can be moved, but we’ve already called transport to take Rollins to Memorial—-”
“What about Callaghan?” Chester strode closer to his bed, his manner almost possessive.
Dr. Walker blinked and looked down at the silent inmate. Even with his stitched forehead and his bruised torso, he looked formidable. Too big for the cot.
Briar’s gaze dropped to his hands with the scarred knuckles. Her stomach clenched when she noticed they were curled into fists. Battle ready. She could almost imagine him bursting from his handcuffs like the Hulk. Her gaze shot to his face, locking with his eyes. Her chest tightened. He was dangerous. She knew it. And he knew she knew it, too.
“Him?” Dr. Walker queried. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Chester looked Callaghan over belligerently. “He looks fine. All stitched up, I see. Why can’t—-”
“He has a concussion and bruised, possibly fractured, ribs. He’s not going anywhere for another twenty--four hours. At the very least.”
Chester’s lips fell into a mutinous line. He clearly wanted to argue, but knew better than to oppose the doctor. Especially a doctor who was so generously volunteering his time while they were short of staff in the HSU.
Dr. Walker turned back around and addressed Briar, a silent dismissal of the belligerent guard. “Why don’t you go ahead and bind his ribs?” He glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head with a grimace. “Hopefully, we can finally start on some of the appointments.” With a sigh, he rubbed the center of his forehead. “I’d hope to get more accomplished today. Josiah, can we go ahead and send for the first two appointments?”
Josiah nodded and moved to the phone.
Briar lowered her head, hiding a small smile as Chester swung around in clear displeasure at being dismissed by the diminutive man. He barked at the inmate who was well enough to leave. “On your feet!”
She knew Chester likely put up with all manner of abuse day in and day out on this job, but he struck her as a bully. She had never liked bullies.
The door buzzed open and shut as Chester and the other guard left the room with the inmate between them.
Soon, two new guards entered the room to escort the second inmate for transport, assisting him into a wheelchair. Josiah and Dr. Walker moved over to supervise, and Briar was left with Callaghan. She still needed to bind his ribs.
She reached for the gauze and unrolled it a fraction. Gripping it between her fingers, she faced the inmate, her tone all business. “If you wouldn’t mind sitting up again.”
He obliged without a word, lifting long arms corded tightly with sinew out in front of him so she had room to wrap his torso. She began circling the gauze around him, leaning in and out, in and out, repeatedly. Her hands stroked the cotton, making certain it lay smooth against his firm flesh, without wrinkles or bunching. “It needs to feel a little tight,” she murmured, “but let me know if it’s too uncomfortable.”
His breath fell in a steady cadence near her ear. She trained her gaze on his body. Not his face. Not the eyes that she felt moving over her. Touching him like this, being this close, she dared not look up.
Because his body was unnerving enough.
She held in a snort. Just barely. His body was ridiculous. Honestly, there was nothing about him or this situation that did not unnerve her. The hard wall of him made her skin feel too tight. Too hot and itchy.
“You don’t want to be here,” he said so quietly it was practically a whisper in her ear.