Do No Harm

DO NO HARM KURT HARM THRILLER SERIES BOOK 1 WES ALLEN WES ALLEN GET “THE VILLAGE” (PREQUEL TO “DO NO HARM”) FOR FREE Sign up for the no-spam newsletter and get “The Village” and more exclusive content, all for free. Get FREE Copy of “The Village” Copyright © 2022 by Wes Allen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For Cardinalis. The hinge on which the door swings. CONTENTS Get “The Village” (Prequel to “Do No Harm”) for FREE 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 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Sneak Peek … Book 2 in the Kurt Harm Series … Get “The Village” (Prequel to “Do No Harm”) for FREE A Kind Request Just Saying … About Wes Allen 1 He looked very different than most of my patients. From the ease with which he walked through the door and the pink color of his skin right down to his chiseled pecs, he was the picture of health. So why was this forty-something man sitting here in my office? I’d soon find out. Most patients filled out at least a few lines under the reason why they came to visit. He offered up nothing. Even the allergy list was left blank. “How can I help you today?” I asked. “Just the regular checkup, I guess. I want to make sure everything’s okay.” I took out my stethoscope and listened to his lungs, which, like everything else, were all within normal limits. Blood pressure was perfect. Pulse strong and perfect rhythm. No swelling in the periphery. “Everything checks out. You got yourself a clean bill of health.” I expected him to leave with those last words, but that wasn’t going to happen. He shifted his weight from side to side in the hard, bright orange seat. His eyes scanned the degrees and certificates hanging on the wall behind my desk. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have other patients to see.” I looked back and held the door open, but he wasn’t budging. “Dr. Kurt Harm. You sure have a lot of awards. You’re quite accomplished,” he said. I didn’t answer, too busy listening. It was a skill I’d honed early in life, not necessarily hearing words as much as reading nonverbal cues. I didn’t have a choice. Growing up in the foster care system didn’t usually lead to doting parents who hung on the every word of a child. The “parents” I’d encountered were looking forward to that monthly paycheck, and as far as they were concerned, the government wasn’t paying them enough to listen to poor old me. So I learned to listen instead of talk at an early age. As the man spoke, his eyes shifted hard to the left, and the third button down on his shirt receded enough to reveal a scar that came from a serrated edge. On the lower left corner of his scalp was a burn mark that was probably less than a year old. As I drew closer to the strange man, I caught a subtle waft of gunpowder. He’d fired a weapon sometime within the past few hours. It was clear this was no schoolboy. “How long have you been a cardiologist?” He didn’t wait for an answer because he wasn’t really asking a question. “When you become a physician, there’s a requirement to take the Hippocratic oath, right?” I ignored his question and continued to watch his every move. His eyes suddenly darkened, and his previously feigned smile was exchanged for a deep scowl. “Time to leave.” That was my polite way of saying, “Get out, or we’ll have to take this a step further.” He stayed seated. “When you take that oath, you promise to do no harm, right?” It was obvious that our newfound mystery man was off his rocker. “Let’s go!” I grabbed his arm without applying too much pressure. He smiled like a Cheshire cat and whispered, “Doc, you sure have come a long way since Botswana.” Now he had my attention. Unfortunately for him, it was not the kind of attention he’d want. “Who are you?” I asked. “That’s not really so important, but what my boss wants, now that’s important,” he said. From the size of his frame and how slowly he swiveled in his chair, I already knew what kind of choke hold to use. Within a few seconds, he’d fall out and be limp in my arms, and I’d be able to do whatever I pleased with him. But I had a sneaking suspicion that torture screams wouldn’t go over so well with my receptionist or the patient in the room next to me. That would have to wait. The unwanted guest quickly reached into his tan slacks, and unbeknownst to him, he was a millisecond away from a being thrown to the ground. Fortunately for him, it wasn’t a gun he pulled out of his pocket but a mini video camera. A video started playing, and the contents revealed the most horrific chapter of my life. Something that I’d worked so hard to remove both from my memory and its effect on my future. The guest seemed to get his jollies knowing what the video was doing to me and how it would get him what he wanted. I wasn’t really sure how long