Chapter 4 Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson: When suppressed desires explode...patient from hell!

***

"Who the hell are you calling now?" Bradley asked gruffly but Jean ignored him.

"Dr. Broody." Came a female voice.

"Need more sex?" Bradley growled but again Jean ignored him.

"Hi, sexy." Jean drawled, making whoever he was speaking to, laugh delightedly. "What if I told you Christmas came early for you this year?"

"How do you mean?" The lady sounded amused.

"Well, I'm feeling generous today." Jean chuckled. "So I feel like giving you an exciting, early release." Laughter from the lady and a disgusted grunt from Bradley met Jean's words. "Get your mind out of the gutter woman." Jean chuckled. "How would you feel about an early trip? Say...tomorrow?"

They heard an exaggerated deep sigh from the audio speakers. "Stop playing with me."

"Who says I'm playing?" Jean shot back. "In fact, the cost of your return ticket is on me. You can leave tomorrow."

"Are you serious?" The lady screeched.

"Dead serious. You can leave right away, go home, and pack your stuff." The delighted screams that burst through the speakers were deafening. "Hey, hey, mind my eardrums, Wendy." Jean laughed. "I'll instruct the bank to pay your bonus into your account as soon as I get home. And guess what..."

"What?" Wendy sounded as though she still couldn't believe Jean.

"I'm going to double it so that you can get your mum something real nice. Tell her it's from the wicked doctor. How about that?" The car went quiet. All that could be heard was Wendy's breathing. "Wendy?"

"Are you okay, Dr. Broody?" She asked quietly. "It's four weeks to Christmas. Why would you allow me to go off this early? Are you..."

"...going to die?" Jean drawled. "Trust me, you're not going to get your wish anytime soon." He ignored the snort that came from behind him. "Like I said, I'm feeling generous. And I feel guilty for making you miss spending Christmas with your mum last year."

"I still went to see her after Christmas." Wendy pointed out quietly, sounding unconvinced.

"There's nothing like spending Christmas with your mama, Wendy," Jean said softly. "Better leave that house now before I change my mind."

"I'm going, I'm going..." Wendy laughed. "But shouldn't I at least wait till my replacement comes before I leave?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

"If you're sure."

"I am. Go get packed."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Broody. I'm going to miss you." She gushed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't be surprised if I call you to end your vacation earlier though. After all, I'm allowing you to go early."

Wendy laughed. "Whenever you need me, just say the word. I'll be down in a flash. You know I adore you."

"And I adore you right back. Now leave." Jean hung up to Wendy's delighted laughter. "That was my housekeeper." He addressed Bradley. "Thanks to you I can't have her or anyone, for that matter, around to pamper me." He growled. "Jackson?" He called out when his cargo didn't say anything. "Hey, don't pass out. Come on, talk to me."

"You call all your housekeepers, sexy?" Bradley asked weakly.

"Nah. Just the ones who see me naked and don't bat an eye." Jean drawled. "Wendy's fifty and...treats me like her kid brother." He added softly. "I just want her out of the house before we get there."

"You must be a real shitty employer." Bradley rasped. "You don't allow your employees to be with their families during Christ..." He paused to groan in pain.

"It was just that one time," Jean muttered. "I needed her then. So...any plans for the holidays? Besides getting shot at, that is."

"Stop talking." Came the even weaker response.

"I have to. I need you to stay awake, Jack."

"Jackson." The wounded man immediately corrected. "That's my family name. Jackson, not Jack."

"What's your first name?" Jean asked.

"Just call me Jackson."

"Okay, Jack. We're almost..."

"Are you deaf?" Bradley growled. "I said the name is Jacks..."

"Tell me your first name if you don't want me to call you Jack." Jean had to try very hard to stifle the urge to laugh. All he wanted to do was to keep the wounded soldier talking. "I mean it, Jack. Don't sleep."

"Call me Jack one more time..." A threatening, weak growl...

"What are you going to do Jack?" Jean taunted. "Huh?"

"How old are you?" Bradley's breathing had become labored.

Jean didn't know why Bradley wanted to know his age but...anything to get him to keep talking. "I'll be thirty in three months. Why?"

"How about acting your age by respecting my wishes?" Bradley tried to sound cold but couldn't even manage that.

"Shit," Jean muttered when he took a quick glance at the wounded man in his backseat. "Stay with me, buddy. What's your blood group?"

"None of your fucking business."

"If I'm to fix you, then it's my fucking business so answer the damn question." Jean retorted.

Damn, Bradley was going to be one hell of a troublesome patient, Jean thought as he drove to the back of his hospital and parked in a corner that wouldn't draw attention to his car. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see the wounded man in his car or the gunshot dents on the car.

"AB-positive," Bradley responded.

"Good. I'll be right back. Don't move." And with that unnecessary warning, Jean broke into a run towards the huge hospital building.