My Patient Was Hunted By Assassins — So I Swung An Oxygen Tank And Became A Mafia Queen
Part 1
I was just a chubby ER nurse who wanted to go home and eat leftover lasagna.
Exhaustion anchored my 240-pound frame as I trudged away from a grueling double shift at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
My swollen feet yearned for a hot bath.
A wet, violent choking sound from a pitch-black Chicago alleyway stopped me dead in my tracks.
Every survival instinct screamed at me to keep walking down the well-lit street.
My heavy work boots turned toward the shadows anyway.
I dropped my tote bag onto the wet asphalt and switched on my phone flashlight.
An elegantly dressed elderly woman lay crumpled against a brick wall like a discarded rag doll.
Her charcoal wool coat was covered in city grime.
Silver hair plastered to her forehead with cold sweat as her hands clawed desperately at her own throat.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
I dropped to my knees, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain shooting up my heavy thighs.
Her lips were a terrifying shade of cyanotic blue.
A thin line of white foam bubbled at the corner of her mouth.
This wasn’t a standard heart attack.
Her pinpoint pupils and erratic thrashing pointed to a severe toxicological reaction.
My hands flew over her, checking her pulse.
It raced a mile a minute before dropping dangerously low.
“Stay with me.”
I fumbled for my phone and put 911 on speaker, yelling my location and a suspected poisoning code to the dispatcher.
Suddenly, she convulsed.
The violent seizure threatened to crack her frail skull against the brick wall.
I didn’t hesitate.
I threw my substantial body weight forward, pinning her down with my soft torso to protect her head with my hands.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I wrestled to keep the stranger safe from her own failing nervous system.
“Come on, breathe.”
I turned her onto her side as the seizure subsided, clearing her airway.
Then her breathing stopped completely.
I rolled her flat and locked my hands over her delicate sternum.
I used my upper body strength and weight to deliver perfect, rhythmic compressions.
I poured every ounce of my remaining energy into keeping the blood flowing to her brain.
The wail of an approaching ambulance finally cut through the night.
Paramedics burst into the alley with harsh halogen flashlights.
I practically hauled myself into the back of the ambulance alongside them.
I wasn’t about to let my unidentified patient die in transit.
By the time we smashed through the ER doors, we had established a faint, stable rhythm.
The next afternoon, I arrived at the hospital two hours before my shift began.
I hadn’t been able to sleep.
I waddled up to the ICU on the fourth floor in my navy blue scrubs.
The unidentified patient was awake in room 412, her dark eyes sharp and entirely lucid.
“You,” she rasped with a faint European accent.
I moved closer with a small cup of water and a sponge swab.
“I’m Brenda, the nurse who found you.”
She let me moisten her cracked lips.
“Like I was trampled by a very large, very determined bear,” she whispered with a ghost of a smile.
My hand subconsciously dropped to my stomach.
“I had to pin you during your seizure, so I apologize if I bruised you.”
Her cool, thin fingers wrapped around my thick wrist with surprising strength.
“Do not apologize for the space you take up, Brenda.”
“Your weight, your strength, it kept me tethered to this earth.”
Her raw gratitude formed a massive lump in my throat.
I spent every spare minute of my breaks in her room over the next two days.
I learned her name was Maria and she had an incredibly razor-sharp wit.
On the evening of the third day, a man in medical scrubs strode down the ICU corridor.
His posture was too rigid.
He wore heavy tactical boots instead of standard nursing clogs.
He made a beeline directly for room 412.
A cold prickle of dread washed over me.
I dropped my clipboard and sprinted.
I reached the doorway just as he pulled a syringe with a sickeningly long needle from his pocket.
He stepped toward the sleeping Maria.
I charged into the room like a linebacker.
I threw my entire 240 pounds directly at the man.
The air rushed out of his lungs as we slammed against the medical equipment cart.
Stainless steel trays crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter.
He swore viciously and struck me across the jaw with the back of his hand.
Pain exploded in my face with the heavy taste of copper.
I didn’t let go.
I grabbed his wrist with both hands and twisted it upward with all my might.
I leveraged my heavy center of gravity to drag him down toward the linoleum floor.
“Security, code gray!”
He kicked out, his heavy boot catching my knee.
My leg buckled under my immense weight.
I violently yanked his arm, causing the syringe to fly across the room and shatter against the wall.
Hearing the pounding footsteps of hospital security, the assassin violently shoved me aside.
I crashed into the wall, breathless and bruised, as he sprinted out the door.
Maria was awake, staring at the shattered syringe on the floor.
“You fought for me,” she whispered in absolute awe.
I wiped blood from my split lip.
“I told you I’m very determined.”
The following morning, the hospital ceased to function normally.
Six black armored SUVs were parked haphazardly in the ambulance bay.
Men in immaculate dark suits were stationed at every exit.
They had the cold, dead-eyed look of predators surveying a watering hole.
My boss stood near the front desk, sweating profusely while talking to a towering man in a bespoke charcoal suit.
I hobbled forward on my throbbing knee.
“Excuse me, I work here.”
The man in the charcoal suit turned around.
He possessed eyes as cold and dark as the Chicago River in winter.
When he turned his gaze on me, a battered nurse holding a cheap ice pack, he expected fearful deference.
He didn’t get it.
“Unless you have medical clearance, you and your private security detail need to clear the hallways.”
His scarred enforcer reached inside his jacket.
The boss held up a single gloved hand, freezing the enforcer in place.
He took a slow, deliberate step toward me.
“You are the woman who found my mother.”
I blinked.
“Maria is your mother?”
“Maria Valenti,” he corrected, stepping into my personal space.
He loomed over me, a massive physical threat wrapped in expensive Italian wool.
“My men scoured the city when she went missing, and I am told an attempt was made on her life last night.”
He tilted my chin up with his thumb to inspect my split lip.
I stiffened but refused to back down.
“And I am told that a nurse threw herself onto a professional hitman to save her using nothing but bare hands.”
I glared right back into his dark eyes.
“I did my job.”
He dropped his hand and turned to my boss.
“My mother is leaving this facility now for my private trauma suite.”
I shook my head.
“She is not stable for transport.”
He snapped back around, the facade of civility cracking.
“Your security is a joke, so she leaves with me.”
His dark gaze locked onto me.
“And you, Brenda, are coming too.”
My jaw dropped.
“No, I have a life here, you can’t just abduct a registered nurse.”
He leaned down until his lips were mere inches from my ear.
He smelled of cedar wood and dark espresso.
“Whoever tried to kill her knows your face now.”
The reality of what I had stumbled into hit me like a freight train, and I realized I wasn’t going back to my quiet life.
