My Coworker Forced Me To Cover Her VIP Patient — Then A Heavily Armed Hit Squad Dragged Me Away
Part 1
The fluorescent lights of the hospital hummed with a sterile intensity that always triggered a migraine by three in the morning.
At twenty-eight years old, I knew the night shift was a thankless purgatory.
It was an endless rotation of groaning patients and the sharp scent of industrial bleach.
My scrubs clung tightly to my wide hips, the fabric chafing my thick thighs after twelve hours on linoleum floors.
I carried my two hundred and fifty pounds through narrow hallways, constantly squeezing past medical carts with quiet resignation.
Other nurses complained about broken fingernails, but my battles were fought in the deep aches of swollen feet.
I was a damn good trauma nurse, though.
The chief of surgery always requested me for his critical post-op patients because I noticed dropping blood pressure faster than anyone.
Tonight, my energy reserves were completely depleted.
I sat alone in the break room, unlacing my white sneakers with a heavy sigh.
My stomach rumbled a hollow protest.
Reaching for a plastic container of cold pasta, the door swung open.
The door practically flew off its hinges as Megan rushed in, her blonde hair flying.
She was my total opposite—tiny, energetic, and constantly texting her boyfriends.
She gripped a thick blue sweater tightly to her chest.
I massaged my temples, pushing my dinner fork away.
Her eyes were huge, filled with genuine panic.
She sobbed that she had ruined her scrub top with iodine and desperately needed a favor.
The surgical chief demanded vitals for the VIP in room 412, and if he caught her out of uniform, she’d be fired.
Megan threw the sweater on the table, pleading with me to hide my badge and cover her shift for just a minute.
I scowled at the crumpled blue fabric.
Room 412 was an isolated corner guarded by two hulking men in cheap suits.
The mysterious patient inside was recovering from a bullet wound.
I told her I despised going in there because those guards always stared right through me.
Megan promised me free lunch for a week and bolted before I could say no.
Grumbling a series of colorful curses, I abandoned my food.
My knees popped loudly as I stood and pulled her oversized sweater over my broad shoulders.
It barely closed across my chest, but it completely hid my ID badge.
I snatched my stethoscope and trudged out into the quiet hallway.
The north wing felt uncomfortably silent.
As I neared the VIP suite, my pulse started racing.
The two silent guards had completely vanished.
The heavy oak door was ajar, showing a terrifying smear of fresh blood across the frosted glass.
My breath caught sharply in my throat.
I spun around to run back to the nurses’ station and call for help.
The heavy thud of combat boots hit the floor, freezing my blood.
Four men in black tactical gear poured out of the stairwell, their faces hidden behind dark ski masks.
They moved with terrifying coordination, instantly surrounding me.
The massive leader aimed a silenced pistol straight at my chest.
He growled a warning, telling me not to move an inch.
His cold eyes locked directly onto the baby blue sweater wrapped around me.
He demanded to know if I was the fourth-floor nurse.
My mouth went completely dry.
I shook my head wildly, backing away until my large frame crashed into a metal medical cart.
Instruments clattered loudly onto the floor.
The leader barked that I was the one who had seen the ledger.
I tried to scream, but a heavy leather glove clamped over my mouth.
Two incredibly strong men grabbed my arms and yanked me backward.
My sheer weight made me hard to move, so I dropped my center of gravity like a stone.
One of the attackers groaned, fighting against my thick left arm.
He cursed, yelling for help to lift my heavy body.
The leader snarled, commanding them to sedate me immediately.
I kicked out wildly, my thick legs slamming hard into a tactical knee pad.
A needle shoved painfully into my upper arm, right through the borrowed sweater.
Within moments, the hospital walls faded into total blackness.
I regained consciousness to the strong smell of expensive cigars and old leather.
My head throbbed as I blinked against the warm glow of a desk lamp.
I was lying flat on a massive wooden desk in a dark, windowless library.
My wrists were bound tightly together with thick zip ties.
A man emerged from the shadows, his sharp black suit radiating absolute authority.
Craig Romano had aristocratic features and cold gray eyes that tracked my every panicked breath.
He paced slowly around the desk, swirling a glass of expensive whiskey.
He looked deeply confused as his gaze fell on my wide hips and cheap hospital scrubs.
He looked toward the corner, calling out for his right-hand man.
Tyler pulled off his ski mask, sweating nervously as he tried to defend his huge mistake.
Craig threw his whiskey glass against the wall, his voice turning into a deadly whisper.
He had explicitly asked for a petite blonde nurse—the informant who stole his flash drive.
Instead, Tyler had kidnapped a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound woman simply because she was wearing a blue sweater.
Craig ordered his men out of the room, pulling a switchblade from his pocket.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, praying for my life.
A strange flicker of amusement crossed his hardened face.
He leaned over my shaking body, his hands surprisingly gentle as he gripped my bound wrists.
The metal severed the thick restraints with a loud crack.
I hugged my arms to my heavy chest, painfully aware of how much space I took up on his expensive furniture.
Craig leaned against the desk, towering over my terrified form.
He casually mentioned that loose ends in his world usually ended up at the bottom of the ocean.
My blood turned to ice.
Before he could decide what to do with me, the library doors flew open.
A frantic guard ran inside, his hands slick with dark blood.
His younger brother had ripped his surgical sutures and was hemorrhaging down the hall.
Craig’s cold mask shattered instantly, genuine panic replacing his deadly calm.
He bellowed an order, demanding I get on my feet.
I was shoved toward the blood-soaked bedroom, knowing my life depended on saving a man who belonged to the underworld.
