THE BRAVO BOYS - SNAKE EATER [book three]

Chapter FIFTY SIX

Shelby Quinn

...the next morning...

Pine-scented bleach and acrid ammonia burn in my nose, the harsh combination causing a rushing wave of nausea that stirs me from what feels like the deepest of slumbers.. The foul chemical stench is so strong I can taste it, lingering in the back of my throat, reaching down to wretch at the contents of my stomach..

"Welcome back to the land o'the livin', Miss Quinn.." A gentle Irish lilt emanates from the bedside and I turn my head to find a dashing flaxen-haired Doctor.. Green eyed with a warm, lopsided smile, he is dressed in a crisp white coat and fitted pale blue scrubs.. The stethoscope slung casually around his neck a dead giveaway of his position.. Checking the bag of IV fluids that drips down the lengthy tube which feeds into the cannula in my arm, he flicks the line curiously.. "You'll feel a wee bit disoriented for a spell, Lass, but it should soon ease up.."

Disoriented doesn't begin to describe the tilting slant that distorts my perspective.. "Where am I?" I croak wearily, swallowing the pooling salvia that continues to whet my mouth, warning me of the sickness that is to come..

"Specter Patient Care, o'course.." The handsome green-eyed doctor smiles kindly, perfect straight pearls flashing at me in reassuring confidence.. "I'm Doctor Saint O'Cleirigh, Chief Trauma Surgeon here at SPC.."

"Ah, right.. I've heard about you.. You're Kirby Paxton's cousin.." I rub at my foggy head, slowly floating down to earth from the heavy sedation.. My words carry a little more snipe than intended as a result of my irritable mood and surprisingly short fuse.. "You were in the peace corps or something.."

"Surgeon lieutenant in the Marine corps, actually.." He chuckles smoothly, seemingly unbotherd by my rudeness..

"Oh- my apologies, Sir.." I wince with guilt, acknowledging my disrespect of his esteemed position..

"No harm done.." He nods graciously..

I make an experimental move to sit up, but the doctor places a firm hand on my shoulder.. His expression hardens to one of seriousness and concern.. "Ye' must rest, Lass, for the baby.."

"What baby?" I frown, sure that I am missing something important, looking around the room and expecting to find a logical explanation..

Maybe there was a child discovered at the facility?

Or maybe this doctor simply has my patient chart confused with somebody else's?

The friendly doctor rocks back on his heels, patient and calm.. "Aye.. Did ye' not know? You're pregnant Miss Quinn.."

"But- no- that's impossible-" I choke through a burst of nervous laughter and sickly hiccups.. The idea sounds insanely ridiculous, preposterous really.. I'd never thought of myself as motherly in the least and I'm sure Logan will have long accepted the absence of any possibility he would father children.. My heart flutters anxiously in my chest, provoking a warble in my voice.. "My boyfriend- he was sterilised as a boy.. He can't have children-"

"It appears that he surely can, Lass.." Striding down to the foot of the bed, he unhooks the chart that hangs there and scans it over with a quick glance.. "Says here you're about six weeks along now.."

It is as though the floor itself drops away and I am sent careening into freefall, spinning through the chaos of my whirring thoughts.. "Oh, wow.." My head spins and the room flips upside down as I lean over and hurl acidic yellow vomit all over the linoleum floor.. It is only as the sick leaves my body that I notice the older, empathy-eyed nurse's assistant who steps forward to lay down several sheets of disposable towel and I roil with guilt to see her clean the mess I have just made.. "I'm so sorry-"