Wild Men of Alaska 02 - Moosed-Up

head. “This is a small clinic. I can’t have hard drugs here. People would be breaking in all the time.” She said that with enough deadpan that he bought it.
    “Do it.”
    She pointed to the cupboard above her. “I’m going to open the door and grab medicine. I should give you a shot of antibiotics too.”
    “Yeah. Good idea.”
    She relaxed her breathing, trying to show a calm she didn’t feel as she turned and opened the door, slowly going through the vials of medication, looking for something that would knock this douche bag on his ass. She couldn’t go for anything that he’d recognize or anything that would take too long, since he’d feel the results and probably shoot her dead before the drugs completely took affect.
    “Nice ass,” Pete hummed. “The higher you reach the better your ass looks.”
    Oh yeah, he was going down. In the back, she fo und what she was searching for.
    Ah, that would do nicely. She opened the other cupboard and pulled out a vile of penicillin. “Are you allergic to anything?”
    “No.”
    It seemed the more medical in nature she kept the conversation, the more he lowered his guard.
    “I’m grabbing a syringe.”
    “Let me see the meds.”
    Holding her breath, she carefully picked up the bottles and showed them to him. He studied the meds, barely glancing at the penicillin which was clearly labeled. “What’s this?” He pointed.
    “A common local, used to deaden the area so that it doesn’t hurt when I dig into you with tweezers looking for that bullet.”
    He winced at her words, and then gestured with his hand. “Get to it then.”
    She turned back to the cabinets as relief flushed through her in a hot rush. Her hands shook, readying the two syringes. She faced him again, placing the full syringes on the tray next to the table. She carefully peeled back the gauze pads to see the angry wound. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be pleasant for either of them. Him, it was going to hurt, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d kill her for hurting him. Talk about a sticky situation. She bit her lip and wiped the area with alcohol. “This is going to pinch,” she warned before sticking him with the needle.
    He hissed through his teeth.
    She depressed the syringe watching the narcotic disappear into his body. She’d doubled the dose not taking any chances on it not being enough. He was a big man, probably tipping the scales at over two hundred with the amount of muscle on display. The double dose might kill him. But, surprisingly she was okay with that. Served him right for hurting Lynx and threatening her, besides if she didn’t get him under control, he’d kill her or worse.
    She finished injecting him and set the empty syringe on the tray. “I need to inject the penicillin in your behind.”
    He grunted and leaned o ver so she could reach his ass.
    She stabbed the needle into him, really loving her job when he swore.
    “Shit, woman.”
    “Sorry.” She pulled out the needle and didn’t rub the injection site like she usually did with any other patient. No way was she touchin g him any more than she had to.
    “Now what are you doing?” he hollered, when she turned back to the drawers.
    “Sorry, gathering instruments to probe the wound.”
    He winced at her choice of words, which is why she’d chose them. No reason to sugarcoat anything.
    She took pleasure in dropping the wicked sharp, long tweezers on the tray and enjoyed his skin paling when she next picked up a scalpel.
    “Whoa,” he said, the gun rising again. “Is that a knife?”
    She glanced down at the scalpel in her fingers. “I guess you could call it that.” She looked at him as innocently as she could, praying she was pulling it off. “I might need it to make the entry site bigger in order to dig out the bullet.”
    “Shit.” He nodded, and she noticed his head seemed to flop more than it should. “Put it on the tray, but don’t reach for it without asking me first.”
    “Okay.” Slower, she added disinfectant, sutures, needle and bandages. “I’m going to need you to lie on your side.”
    He looked at the door and around the room, much like a cornered animal who wasn’t willing to lower his guard. “No.”
    “Listen, Pete.” She used her most convincing nurs e-maid voice. “I need the light in order to investigate the wound. Your body creates a shadow. It will be more comfortable for you to lie down, and I’ll be quicker.”
    He seemed to war with himself, and then gave in and