“Do you have a supervisor, Corporal Lansing?”
Immediately, he had both Ms. Brady’s and Lansing’s attention.
Chapter Nine
Lansing stared at Brandon wide-eyed. “Yes, I do.”
“Yes, I do, what?” Brandon raised his voice just slightly, but there was no masking his signature drill instructor demanding tone.
Lansing stood up a little straighter, blinking a little faster. “Yes, I do, sir.”
“Then I suggest you go get him or her in here now.”
“He, uh, he’s not here tonight, sir.” Lansing glanced back at Ms. Brady and down at her ankle again. “But, uh, I apologize for any disrespect. I assure you there was none intended, and, uh, I can get her those painkillers no problem. I just—”
“No excuses, Lansing. Ms. Brady is in a lot of pain. Go get them now.”
“Yes, sir,” Lansing said, nodding at Brandon and then at Ms. Brady.
“I still want your supervisor’s name,” Brandon informed him coldly.
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said again before walking away in a hurry.
The only reason he let him off the hook and didn’t demand he get one of his higher ups, anyone, was because getting Ms. Brady her pain medicine took precedence at that moment. But he had every intention of speaking with Lansing’s supervisor.
Brandon turned back to Ms. Brady. She was staring him wide-eyed.
“Are you really gonna get him in trouble?” she asked, her brows coming together suddenly. “For not moving fast enough?”
This time the little princess’s glare was not quite as amusing. He didn’t expect her to understand, and he wouldn’t bother to explain himself, but it was still annoying as shit that she’d question him. The Marine code of honor and respect was not something you explained. It was something instilled in you by living it. “I said I’d be speaking with his supervisor. It’s up to his supervisor to decide whether or not he’ll be in trouble, but if he were my subordinate, there certainly would be repercussions.”
“Repercussions for what? He did nothing wrong.”
Lansing walked to Ms. Brady’s side swiftly. “I’ll attach a saline lock to your hand in case you need more pain medicine again. That way I won’t have to keep poking you, and the relief will be instantaneous.”
Ms. Brady smiled at Lansing and thanked him profusely for doing what he should’ve done the moment he’d seen the size of her swollen ankle and how much pain she was in. As he worked on getting the saline lock taped to her hand, he asked her quickly about any allergies or reactions to morphine and if she was by any chance pregnant to which she interestingly answered, “Absolutely not.” These were the questions Lansing indicated earlier that would take far more time to get to. “Now you’re going to feel a little woozy, Ms. Brady, maybe even a little like you’re drunk or high. Morphine is, after all, a narcotic, so expect some dizziness and even confusion, but don’t worry. It’s all normal.”
Nodding, Ms. Brady closed her eyes as he inserted the needle in the vein on the top of her hand. Brandon watched her strained expression as Lansing began administering the medicine through the saline lock. Slowly the still-pained expression began to ease as the morphine began to take effect.
“The relief will be almost immediate,” Lansing reminded her cautiously.
Yeah, no shit. That’s why he should’ve given it to her a long time ago.
“Be careful not to move your ankle, though.” Lansing warned. “Just because it won’t hurt to do so anymore, doesn’t mean you should. It’s still injured, and moving it might make it worse.”
After a few moments, she glanced over at Brandon, a silly smile spreading across her face and her eyes already drooping a little. “I feel better already,” she said with a slight slur.
Brandon nodded at her but said nothing and certainly didn’t offer any smiles. He knew all too well from his own past injuries and those of many of his recruits what morphine could do to you—make you feel. He didn’t want to encourage any such behavior from her now that, given the circumstances, Lansing had probably given her a big fat dose of the stuff.
Lansing went back to what he’d begun to do before Brandon had demanded the pain medicine for Ms. Brady. In hindsight, Brandon understood a little now why Lansing had wanted to get all the information he collected now from her before shooting her up with the pain meds. Getting straight and coherent answers from Ms. Brady in this inebriated and confused state of mind took a lot longer than it would have if he’d done so before. Still she was out of pain now, and that’s all that mattered.
Listening quietly as she answered all the pertinent questions, Brandon took note of some of the answers that shouldn’t interest him but annoyingly did. She wasn’t married or living with anyone. Her emergency contacts were her parents, who lived more than an hour away in one direction, and her sister, who lived a half hour in the opposite direction. She was twenty-seven, and the only medication she was on was one she said was for anxiety, but she hadn’t taken it in weeks. He noticed how she lowered her voice when answering that and a few other more personal questions, such as she just finished her menstrual cycle and she had been pregnant once but never full term. She’d lost the baby at six weeks a little over a year ago.
Brandon took a few steps away. “I can wait for you in the waiting room,” he offered, feeling as if he were intruding on her privacy now.