The Doctor's Defender (Protection Specialists Book 3) by Terri Reed Page A

work.
    Marge leaned close. “Who’s the handsome stud by the door?”
    Brenda glanced over to where Kyle had parked himself by the door. Handsome? Yes, Brenda couldn’t deny the assessment even if she wanted to. He was dressed from head to toe in green surgical scrubs just as she was, but the drab outfit didn’t detract from the width of his shoulders, the trim waist and long, lean legs. A face mask covered his mouth and nose. Gloves encased his strong hands, and shoe covers hid the loafers he wore.
    Only his watchful blue eyes were visible. Beautiful eyes. Intense. Protective. Alert. Eyes that seemed to see a little too much for her comfort level. Brenda shifted her gaze back to Marge. “Bodyguard.”
    Above her mask, Marge’s hazel eyes widened. “Bodyguard?”
    Obviously the hospital gossip party line hadn’t reached the nurse. Relief that she wasn’t the butt of water-
cooler speculations and assumptions swept through her.
    “Long story. I’ll explain later.” She stood beside the prone young woman lying on the operating table. “Let’s get to work.”
    An hour into the procedure, a hissing sound disturbed Brenda’s concentration. “What is that noise?”
    “It’s not coming from my end,” Derek said, though he stood to check his machines.
    Marge lifted her head toward the vents in the ceiling. “It sounds like it’s coming from up there.”
    “I can’t breathe,” Kate said, her hands going to her throat a second before she crumpled to the ground, hitting the instrument tray on her way down, sending forceps, retractors and scalpels flying.
    The startling clatter of the surgical instruments hitting the floor jolted through Brenda as she stared in horror at the fallen nurse.
    Suddenly she didn’t feel so good, either. Her eyes burned. The membranes of her nose tingled painfully. She lifted her hands away from the patient and glanced up. The vent was directly over her. A fine mist sprayed out of the slats. The room spun.
    A loud siren drowned out the hissing noise. Someone had pulled the emergency lever.
    In a heartbeat, Kyle was at Brenda’s side, his arms encircling her, pulling her away from the table. “We need to get you out of here.”
    “My patient,” Brenda protested though her words slurred. The room darkened. The floor slid out from under her feet. Falling. Kyle’s strong arms caught her and lifted her against his chest. The scent of his aftershave chased away the stench of antiseptic and blood. She hoped she wasn’t dying.
    The world went black.

FOUR
    K yle refused to succumb to the mist flowing freely through the hospital ventilation system and flooding the operating room. He held his breath, his lungs straining against the lack of oxygen intake. His chest burned with the chemical agent. He forced his eyes to stay open. His mind to stay alert. His limbs to function.
    Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the alarm reverberating off the operating-room walls. Fogginess hovered at the edges of his mind, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the clawing need for air, and pushed through the pain.
    He lifted Brenda in his arms. No time to check her pulse. Not with the lack of fresh air. He had to get them both out of here.
    Each step took extreme concentration. Lift one foot, put it down. Then repeat. The door seemed a mile a way.
    He blinked away the dark spots blotting out the light.
    The door banged open. Someone wearing white from head to toe rushed to him. Reflexively he tightened his hold on Brenda. Turning his shoulder toward the oncoming assault, he continued moving, doing a little bull-rushing of his own.
    But his legs gave out. No! He had to get her to safety.
    Brenda slipped from his arms. His muscles wouldn’t work, wouldn’t hang on to her. He’d failed to protect her. The darkness descended, overwhelming the light. He let out a groan of protest as the world faded.
    * * *
    A clear plastic mask covered Kyle’s face. Cool air swiftly filled his lungs, chasing