Doctor Rebel – Grace Maxwell (1)

It’s a lot of data points and annotations but not much synthesis that makes sense. Without a word, I set it before him, the papers sprawling across his orderly desk. Dr. Johns leans forward, adjusting his glasses and begins to sift through the documents. The initial skepticism on his face dissolves into concern as he turns the pages.

He’s silent, and I watch his eyes track back and forth, consuming the information that I hope will spur him to action. “Where did you get this?” he finally asks, not looking up from the report. “Eleanor left it. It’s an ongoing drug trial, but William Long in legal doesn’t have a contract.

I don’t know who to speak with or even where to submit our findings. I have reports that go back over a year,” I explain, keeping my tone even. “It seems Eleanore had been compiling the data for them.” He doesn’t respond immediately, his focus still tethered to the pages beneath his fingertips. I wait. “Prometheus Health Solutions,” Dr. Johns mutters again, finally looking up from the report with furrowed brows. “I remember a drug rep came by, dropped off some…gifts.” He waves a hand dismissively as if the thought of such perks is trivial, but I can see the discomfort in his eyes.

“Gifts?” I probe, leaning forward in my chair. He sighs. “iPads for all the staff, a couple of lunches to ‘thank us for our time.’ It’s not unusual in this business, but…” He trails off and glances at the documents again, a silent admission that the swag might be more than just corporate generosity. “Look into it,” I press. “Please. There’s something off about this trial.” He nods, his expression hardening. “I will. Give me some time.” “Thanks,” I say, standing. “I appreciate that.”

Copyright 2024 Blind Date Publishing All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a production of the author’s imagination.

Locations and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locations is completely coincidental. Mercy Emergency Medical: Doctor Rebel/Grace Maxwell—1st edition OceanofPDF.com Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Epilogue Doctor Tyrant Thank you Books by Grace Maxwell OceanofPDF.com Chapter 1 Chance The rumble of my Harley echoes off the hospital walls as I cut the engine outside the emergency department.

My boots hit the pavement in front of the sliding glass doors with a solid thud. Standing next to my bike, I pull off my helmet and shake out my hair, feeling eyes on me—some wide with fear, others narrowed in what might be appreciation. The beast between my legs might as well be a fiery stallion for all the attention it commands. I stride into the emergency department, leather creaking with each step, and rather than checking in at the desk, I find a corner seat in the waiting area to observe.

I watch, silent and still, as the scene unfolds around me. A few minutes later, a man bursts through the sliding doors, his face swollen and contorted in pain. His cries are primal, unfiltered by the stoicism expected of grown men. I can’t help but assess his condition. Wasps seem the likely culprits, and based on the swelling, anaphylaxis is a threat. He begs for relief as the staff springs into action and whisks him into the back.

Not far behind him comes a woman cradling her abdomen, flinching with each movement. A darkening bruise mars her left eye, giving voice to a story she refuses to tell.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
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• Pages: 241
• Language: English (en)

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