“You know who I am, so you know what I’ll do to you.” He slung her toward the supply closet. “Open that fucking door!”

“I can’t.” She took a step back, holding one hand out, bloody palm up. As if that was going to stop him.

“You’re lying. Open the closet. I need antibiotics.”

“I’d open it if I could, but I don’t know the combination. Only the doctor can dispense medication.”

“Then get the damn doctor to open the door.”

Her eyes flashed. “You just shot the damn doctor.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Then call another one. And fast, before your lover boy over there bleeds out.”

Her nostrils flared. “Let me get my phone. It’s in the pocket of my top. In the exam room.”

He motioned with his gun. “Then go. Now.” He followed her, picking his way around the bleeding man on the floor, making sure to stay out of his reach. Just in case he was playing possum.

He didn’t appear to be, though. The woman gave the doctor an agonized look, a sob rattling in her chest.

“Keep going,” Cade ordered. She stumbled forward, going into the first exam room on the left. She headed for her scrubs top, but Cade spied her cell phone on the counter. “Stop,” he barked. “Your phone’s right there. Behind you.”

She stopped. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. She walked toward the counter, her face an impassive mask. When she got there, she slowly reached for the phone with her left hand, then yanked at one of the drawers with her right.

She wheeled around, her arm raised high, and Cade saw the glint of a blade just in time. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard until she dropped the scalpel with a cry of pain. It clattered to the floor and he twisted her arm behind her, shoving the barrel of his gun at her head.

“Don’t fuck with me, lady,” he growled. “Open the damn supply closet.”

“No,” she seethed, breathing hard. “You’ll kill me either way, so why should I?”

Then she did a move he was not expecting, twisting her body so that she almost broke free. She kicked at his knee and he swore.

And shot her.

She dropped to the floor and he cursed. Now he’d never get the damn door open. He sank into the patient chair next to the counter and gave himself a second to regroup.

He needed a doctor. That was the most important thing. If he didn’t get medical help, he was going to go septic and die, and that was unacceptable. His gaze landed on the woman’s cell phone, still on the counter.

If she wouldn’t call a doctor for him, he’d call one himself.