Warrior Reborn Page 3

  The mother scooped the crying child up in her arms and briskly checked the tender skin for burns and injury. Jason gritted his teeth and bit back the pain, swallowing the curse he wanted to shout.

  “She all right?” The voice came from the crowd.

  “Yes.” The sound of relief in the mother’s voice reflected the look on her face until she glanced again to Jason, realizing what had happened. “Oh, my—your hand. Are you okay? Please, what can I do to help?”

  Not trusting speech, Jason shook his head and pressed backward through the crowd to get free of the cluster of bodies. Shouts issued between the manager and the cashier. Someone moved in to mop the floor and steer people away from the mess. Several concerned inquiries from good Samaritans rose over the din. Jason ignored them all.

  The pressure on the palm of his injured hand registered it was too late for him to jerk away.

  “Let me help you.” Briet’s voice cut through the voices and the pain as she turned to the gathered crowd. “It’ll be okay. I’m a doctor. He’ll be fine if you’d just let us through.”

  Jason waved his good hand at people and followed Briet. “Fine, just fine.”

  “You’re definitely not fine.” Her voice was low, for his ears only. She kept one hand pressed to his palm and the other firmly above his elbow. Wedging him close, she maneuvered them past the distraught manager, the frantic, grateful mother, and the rest of the morning crowd.

  “That’s a severe burn. I have supplies in my lab that will take care of this.”

  Jason leaned back against the elevator wall and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were already moving into Briet’s lab.

  How the hell had that happened? Pain must have deadened his perception.

  She pulled a lab stool over to the sink. “Sit here. You can rest against the wall while I get the sterile water.”

  Jason sucked in his breath when her hand moved away from his. Sharp, raw heat flooded over his skin, as if it had been locked behind a gate and suddenly released.

  Several interminable minutes later, she was back and loaded for battle: one squirt bottle, several bottles of sterile water, cream antiseptic, two clean towels, sterile gauze, and tape.

  Briet watched Jason’s eyes close. The pale skin and faint lines around his mouth broadcast his refusal to show his pain. With care, she lifted his hand over the sink, cradled his palm in hers, and gently started the water at his wrist. She felt the tiny jerk of his muscles as the liquid reached the burned section but he said nothing. Continuing to flush the four to five inch section of his hand with fluid, she kept her contact with him. Ten to fifteen minutes later, she’d gone through four bottles of water and a small amount of her own energy, but the raw, angry red from the second-degree burn had paled. The flesh no longer threatened to blister and his breathing had evened out.

  She glanced up and caught his expression as he looked at his hand and frowned. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of his healed skin. Her Guardian skill didn’t deliver healing—with one exception.

  “Guess it really wasn’t that bad.” His blue eyes held the question. “Or else, you’re one incredible doctor.”

  “It’s my gentle touch.” She laughed, more than a little uneasy, and busied herself putting away her supplies. The last thing she’d expected on this trial was to find her mate. Thankfully, she had been there in time to help him. Not that she was prepared to deal with him or the flurry of feelings she’d encountered since she’d first seen Jason Ballard. “Not sure how much attention you were paying downstairs?”

  He shook his head.

  “The little girl’s mother was very grateful.” Briet dipped her free hand into her lab coat pocket. “She left a card and asked for you to call her. The manager of the shop insisted he would cover any damages. He seems very worried you might sue.”

  Jason winced. “Not really the image Welson wants to present.”

  “So you’re always one hundred percent the company man.”

  He lifted his palm from hers, flexed his hand slowly, and tried to clench it. “I wasn’t one downstairs.”

  “The scalding would have permanently injured that child’s face.”

  The shrug he gave her was casual, but the image of his quick maneuver still resonated in Briet’s mind. He’d acted without thought, his gut instinct to protect.

  “What’s with all the refrigerators?”

  Briet blinked, not bothering to look over her shoulder. He’d obviously recovered enough to take in the five small fridges she’d stocked beneath her lab counters. “I keep samples in there.”

  “Samples from your patients?”

  “Mostly.”

  He stretched his neck and then turned back puzzled. “All the data results are in the system. Are these duplicate samples you’re keeping? You have concern about the validity of the results?”

  She rolled her lips and debated what to tell him. Given the display she’d witnessed downstairs, she decided to trust him with a small measure of truth. “These samples are different tests. More extensive tests.”

  His eyes widened. “Why?”

  Moving away from her chair by the sink, she paced to the counter, turning to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. “There are only specific tests the Welson program will cover under the protocol. I don’t feel comfortable with the results if I can’t investigate the cancer’s effects and the protocol to my own level of satisfaction.”

  Jason took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “What types of tests?”

  Her chin lifted, anticipating a battle. “Additional tests such as urine and muscle tissue.”

  “Liver and kidney function.” He watched her, seemingly assessing her comments without any change to his expression.

  She waited. That he’d made the conclusion so quickly surprised her. She’d taken him for an administrative head. Evidently, he possessed some medical background or had picked up details during his other trials.

  “You perform the tests?”

  With a shrug, she waited on his final conjecture.

  “You realize tests you’ve performed yourself on your patients won’t be acceptable for compilation with the remainder of the data.”

  “I’m not interested in journal publication or peer acknowledgement. I want to ensure there are no secondary effects from the treatment.”

  He pursed his lips and let out a deep sigh. “Reasonable.” He flexed his hand, the frown returning. “Why not just take this up the chain and get your tests added to the program?”

  Shifting, she crossed one foot over the other. “I didn’t want to risk a refusal.”

  His brow jerked up. “You really think that would happen?”

  “Yes, I felt the odds were good. Once I’d made the request, I would risk sanction against performing the tests I needed. Not a chance I was willing to take.”

  Perhaps the option to ask him not to discuss her tests should be forefront in her mind, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. So far, he’d asked reasonable questions. He hadn’t gotten defensive and he appeared to know his way around the personnel and problems enough that he wasn’t clueless.

  Each consideration kept her quiet, compounded by the matter of her being able to heal him, which led to a bigger personal dilemma. One she couldn't disclose to Jason. It was an unsettling reality, which she couldn’t allow to take precedence over whether he endorsed her judgment as a physician. Mate or not, she’d committed to her current efforts. For now, she needed her focus on the kids and the trial. She didn’t need the challenge of a mate. Perhaps she would reconsider when the trial finished.

  “Thank you for looking after my burn.” Like that, he dropped the whole subject. The man certainly knew how to keep her off kilter.

  “I would say anytime, but I hope you don’t have another episode like the one downstairs.”

  The smile he gave her was quick and blinding, with a flash of a dimple and those wicked eyes. Oh, my. Her life had gone from complicate
d to combustible.

  “We kind of shot our time for talking over tea. However, this discussion was helpful. You’ve brought forward options I hadn’t considered.” He looked pointedly at her refrigerators. “How about a rain check on the tea?”

  A buzz from across the counter stopped her response.

  He looked at her and laughed. “You know those cell phones only work if you actually keep them with you and answer them sometimes. I tried you four times before I finally gave up and tracked you down in person.”

  She raised a brow and grabbed the vibrating phone before it inched off the counter. “I keep hearing that.” Ansgar’s number blinked from the phone.

  “I’ll let you take your call and get back with you later about another time.”

  She nodded as he headed out the door. Flipping open the phone, she pressed the ‘redial last missed call' option.

  Somehow, she knew her brother was too protective to be happy that she’d met her mate. Especially if she wasn’t sold on the idea yet.

  Then again, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  ***

  The brisk whip of wind on the street stung Jason’s face in a cold prickle of needle points. He clenched and unclenched his injured hand, then continued to cross the street to the hospital’s administration building. The glass-enclosed bridge between the hospital and the lab building he’d just left would have been warmer, faster perhaps. But the brightness of daylight provided a better opportunity to evaluate the damage as he scrutinized the pink, shiny flesh on his hand.

  He knew the burn had been severe. There should be intense pain, harsh discoloration, not to mention blistering. Instead, the injury looked almost healed, more indicative of an accident that had taken place two months ago, not within the last hour. Fortunately, the cold was just cold. It elicited no hypersensitivity to his muscles or nerves, no numbing or residual stiffness.

  Jason looked across the street at the two-story glass front that shielded the lab building’s atrium. He still had no recollection of the brief trip from the lobby to Briet’s lab. The memory of her gentle treatment, the feel of her palm beneath his, the view of soft stray layers of her blond hair as she bent over his hand working on him—he had vivid recollection of each of those.

  Five minutes later, he stood before the tall counter on the fifth floor offices the hospital provided for Welson Corp and sifted through a handful of messages left by their assistant.

  “Got a sec?”

  Jason glanced over his shoulder and nodded an affirmative to Max, wondering why his boss had bothered with the hour and half ride into town from the corporate office. He motioned to his office and waited for Max to sit before closing the door and taking his seat.

  “I’m heading over to talk to Sanyu.” Max waved a hand to fend off Jason’s questions. “Just want to give him a heads up that the shareholders’ meeting has been scheduled for two weeks from now. They’re expecting impressive feedback.”

  “That should excite the good doctor.” Jason cringed internally at the increased frenzy this would cause for the team. Sanyu was a competent administrator, but hadn’t been a practicing doctor for at least ten years. His expectations ran more along the line of personal recognition and status than achievement related to patient success.

  “We’ll have a status meeting tomorrow, if you want to get some additional commentary from some of the rest of the team.”

  Max expression froze. “You suspect there are problems Sanyu isn’t aware of?”

  “Problems? No, but the doctors on this team spend a lot of time and effort with their patients. I’d expect them to be busy enough that they can’t run everything by Sanyu. They shouldn’t have to.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there. I’ve seen the analysis they’ve gathered so far. I would imagine it’s too early in the process to summarize much.”

  Jason picked up a pen. “Two weeks is early. It’s possible the data we collect won’t be enough for a thorough gauge of all the risks.”

  “We had a whole team of analysts frame the scope of this project.”

  Jason ignored Max’s scowl. He knew the man wasn’t overly concerned. Welson had a string of successful trial conclusions. Jason had been at the forefront of them for the last several years. “Our focus is narrowed to the effects resulting from the protocol, specific to the type of cancer. It might be there are secondary levels of testing that would reveal additional impact with minimal disruption.”

  Max shifted. “And Sanyu?”

  “I was planning on asking him about it.”

  Max shrugged. “I can bring it up when I speak to him. You suspect he won’t be receptive to changes.”

  Jason pursed his lips. “I think he sees change as a challenge to his authority. It’s a manageable issue.”

  “Okay. This is your call. You’ve had great success front-running problems. I doubt this is any different. Bottom line?”

  “We might have to pick up some additional lab costs to circumvent insurance reluctance.”

  “Manageable. There are only sixty kids. You’re thinking what?”

  Jason leaned back in his chair. “I’m thinking I can get it to fit under the current cost cap. There is some cushion built in.”

  Max slapped his palm on Jason’s desk and stood up. “That’s why you’re in charge of this project. See you tomorrow.”

  ***

  Brian Paulson’s skeletal view was fragile. Briet concentrated her focus in slow motion through each joint: the width, the density, the underlying cell structure. Her eyes and mind were able to process what no physical machine could. The boy’s meditative quiet made the exercise easier. Children in motion were much harder to analyze.

  Ten days of treatment and Brian’s bones were showing an unusual change. The density remained the same, but some of the marrow cells were developing husks, like seedlings prepped for winter. Or tiny genetic alterations hidden within plain sight and too small for detection by conventional means. Brian shared this abnormality with each of her other patients.

  A cause for concern? Yes. Without proof or a viable resolution, she had no choice but to wait and monitor Brian’s progress along with the others. She would figure it out. She just needed time. Brian just needed time.

  “He’s doing so much better.”

  Briet glanced at the oncology technician. Angela adjusted the settings on the equipment streaming fluids via IV into Brian’s small arm and then swiveled her stool back to monitor the boy. Brian’s nurse from the pediatric ward, Sandy, stood behind her nodding her head.

  “Not even a sound from him. Remember how he used to be?” Angela went on.

  “Remember? Everyone on the floor knew what the poor boy went through.” Sandy shook her head. “He really trusts you, Dr. Hyden.”

  Her hand relaxed beneath Brian’s, Briet watched the boy for signs of awareness. His pale eyelids remained closed, his long brown lashes relaxed against his cheekbones. “He just needed to feel in control. All of these tests and living away from home doesn’t leave these kids with much stability.”

  “Yeah, not to mention all that vomiting.” Sandy whispered.

  Briet raised a brow at her. “He’s fine now. He needed to choose to do this.”

  “True enough,” Angela gave a snort of consensus. “Just because they are only children doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have a say in their life. I pity these poor parents all their decisions, but the kids…sheesh, eight and nine year olds should be outside running around, not strung up to machines and tubes.” She checked several more gauges. “Five more minutes, Doctor.”

  “We got a memo. The Welson people might be coming through to talk to the kids and parents.”

  Glancing back at Sandy, Briet tilted her head in question.

  “I have authorization papers for the parents to sign when they come by.”

  “Thought we’d already gone through all those formalities.” Briet bit back the annoyance bubbling up inside her. More paperwork meant more layers of complexity to
the lives of the families in the trial.

  “Paperwork is never finished. Jason Ballard’s usually pretty good with not alienating the patients though.”

  “You sound like you know him.” Unfortunately, a hint of neediness threaded through her words. Briet wanted information on Jason. But she didn’t want anyone to think she was instigating an inquiry.

  “He managed another Welson trial here two years ago in a different wing of the hospital. He’s got a good reputation with the staff and the patients.”

  “With the nurses, too,” Angela added with a prolonged sigh.

  Frowning at the specialist bought her nothing. The woman only shrugged.

  “That’s what I hear.”

  Sandy leaned in. “I hear it’s mostly bull. I had a friend who went out with him. Twice. He doesn’t do commitment, but he was honest and up-front about it. She said he’s a nice guy. They stayed friends. She moved to Raleigh and met her husband there.”

  “Bet he’s a nice guy to a lot of women.” Angela wasn’t about to let up on her fun.

  Sandy shook her head and ignored the specialist, narrowing her eyes at Briet. “There are a lot of women who want him, but he’s not like that.”

  “How would you know?” Angela punctuated her comment with crossed arms and a smirk.

  “Yeah, Sandy.” Briet looked up and laughed. “Aren’t you married?”

  Sandy rolled her eyes. “My friend said she heard at least two women who claimed dates and relationships with him. Neither of them was telling the truth. He was either out of town or in some public function. Didn’t stop them from lying. He’s just not the type to embarrass them.”

  Angela shrugged. “No doubt there’s some truth there. Some women will do anything to catch a man. No self-respect. Okay, Brian. You’re all done, baby boy.”