Morgan turned in a circle as if his patient might suddenly appear from one of the corners. A dark-haired, dark-skinned nurse wearing maroon scrubs came into the room with an armful of linens. Dr. Stark, she said, brown eyes going a little wide. Her name tag read Isabella.

Where's my patient, Isabella? There was no time to waste with pleasantries.

Dr. Ayres took him to surgery. He said they couldn't wait any longer. They needed to deal with the aneurysm before it burst. Isabella set the linens down and took a step backward.

Morgan shut his eyes for a moment, trying to contain his rage. Damn Ayres, freaking scalpel jockey. Which room?

Isabella's mouth gaped a little farther open and she twisted her hands together in front of herself. I d-d-on't understand. Which room what?

Which operating room? Where is my patient? He knew it wasn't this young woman's fault, but damn it, a man's life hung in the balance.

Three, Isabella blurted out. What should I?

Morgan didn't hear the rest of her words because he was already running down the hall, his heart pounding in his ears and Lexa right behind him. Down the hall with its yellow linoleum tile and buzzing fluorescent lights, Morgan thundered, a bull searching for the red cape.

He waved his ID badge over the RFID reader and the double doors into the operating room suites clicked and swung forward in a slow arc. He shoved them aside. He had to get into that room before Ayres sunk a knife into Rohr and set off a reaction they wouldn't be able to stop.

Morgan flung open the door to OR Three's anteroom. One of the scrub nurses was still by the sinks. Hey, the man called. You can't go in there.

Ignoring him, Morgan grabbed a surgical mask off a pile by the door and covered his face as he shoved open the doors. Behind him, he heard Lexa running interference for him with the scrub nurse. Trust me, Ayres is going to want to hear what Dr. Stark has to say, she said.

You sure about that? the man said.

Morgan almost snorted. That was a scrub nurse who knew his surgeon. Ayres rarely wanted to hear want anyone had to say except himself.

Morgan rushed to the table, relieved to see that Vincenzo was under, but the procedure hadnt yet started, although Ayres had a scalpel in his hand and was getting ready to make the first cut, clearly intending to clip the aneurysm in an open craniotomy. Thank heavens. Hed made it in time.

Stop! Morgan yelled. You cut him, you kill him.

CHAPTER TWO

Ayres whirled around. What the hell are you doing in my OR, Stark?

Morgan skidded to a stop. Ayres wasnt a big man, but he carried himself like he was. Plus, he held a very sharp scalpel in his hand. Trying to save your patient, Jason. Maybe a personal plea would help his case.