by S. M. West
It’s not to say I haven’t lost a few of her men over the years, but in every case, I was sure to tell her up front that they weren’t going to make it before I even started work on them. Sometimes I’m not there in time and there’s nothing I can do. I’ve tried to impress upon her that I will always take care of someone in need, criminal or not.
I discard the paper gown, cap and gloves, scrubbing my hands clean before I go. Once done, I’m making my way to the exit when Taya steps in my path.
“Max, wait.”
Exasperated, I grind my teeth to bite back my bitterness. “Yes?”
“I will need you more, on a regular basis, for the next several weeks.”
“Why?” I’m not thrilled at the prospect of being in her company more than I already am, and it also means my hands will be even dirtier than they already are, if that’s even possible.
“That’s none of your business. Your job is to come when called. Not ask questions.”
I don’t have a response she’d deem acceptable and what I want to say would cause more harm. Instead, I nod and leave as quickly as possible. Although I can’t possibly imagine what she needs me for.
Up until now, I’ve only ever had to deal with the aftermath of confrontations. There is usually someone to patch up. So why does she need me more often? Is she going to war? Or anticipating more injuries to her men? And if so, why?
During the ride back to my apartment, I mull this over and only get more frustrated as I’m no closer to a definitive answer. Before I drive myself crazy, I call to check on my patient, pleased to learn everything is good.
I need to get more sleep and then go back to the hospital, which means another raincheck and apology text to Tate. She’s going to disown me.
With the text sent, I rest my head on the back of the seat, holding my hands out in front of me. They are clean, no trace of the blood that coated the gloves I wore not too long ago. But all I can see is blood.
I took an oath to do no harm, and while every person I’ve treated for my mother needed medical attention, I’ve no clue what damage was done on the other end. These people are enforcers and murderers.
How many innocent lives were lost at the hands of the men I have treated? As much as I’m ignorant to her business dealings, I’m still complicit, and the guilt is eating me alive. I have to find a way out without tossing my sister back into the fire.
Tommie
I find hot dogs obnoxiously pleasing. How a crudely shaped hodgepodge of unmentionable animal parts brings such comfort is beyond me but whenever I eat one, I can’t help but smile.
Four hot dogs are tucked in the small insulated container at my side and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into one. I’d been thinking about dinner with Max throughout my workout. It stung the other night when he turned down breakfast. It’s been two weeks since we last saw each other when we typically see each other every couple of days. I miss him.
He’s my best friend like Anna, and in some ways, easier to talk to. I think it’s the guy thing. He’s laid back, preferring not to over-analyze things.
After the gym, I grabbed our usual dinner choice at our favorite street vendor and I’m now camped at the hospital entrance he frequents. I made sure to check with Edith, his office administrator, to make sure he wasn’t in surgery. If he was anyone else, I’d use my skills and tap into the hospital mainframe to see his schedule. But that’s pointless since Max doesn’t stick to his on-call hours. He lives at the hospital.
I’ve been waiting twenty minutes and I’m willing to wait as long as it takes so I can see him. I only hope he doesn’t try to bail once we come face to face. We’re close, but something is going on with him and I can’t help but feel he’s avoiding me. And I don’t know why.
Instead of stewing over what’s going on with Max, I’ve got plenty to occupy my time. Since the online alert, a few days ago, I’ve attempted to track his movements, which for almost any other target would be a cakewalk for me. Tracking people’s moves, especially digitally, is my specialty and something I can practically do in my sleep. But this time, no surprise, it was near impossible. This is really a case of battling my mentor. All the underhanded and sneaky things I know how to do I learned from Zero, and he’s the one protecting him from being detected or tracked by anyone, including me. No, especially me.
He has been in New York before, but never for more than two days and more likely a few hours’ layover on his way to Europe, Asia or the Middle East. I’m only aware of a few because he’s hard to track and if he doesn’t stay long in the city, my alerts don’t pick him up.
This time is different.
Starving for knowledge, I want to arm myself with as much information as possible, but the morsels I’ve unearthed barely keep me satiated. It’s hard not to obsess over the man who took everything from me. A man who can’t be found and in turn, can’t be punished. In my frustration for more details, to determine if he’s here to cause me bodily harm or harm to those I love, I haven’t ruled out stalking him.
But truth be told, I don’t dare get that close. My body may betray me despite my time in a mental health facility and years of therapy, all of which were to reteach both my body and brain new ways to react, to stay calm and remember that I am in control.
And I’m not only worried about what his presence means for me. My past coming to New York means danger for those I love. Van, my boss and savior, is about the only one who would fully understand what this means.
Evan Hart is founder and owner of Hart Corporation, and not only like a big brother to me, but a selfless guy who knows every gory detail of my life.
He’s been out of town on a job this past week, and when he returns, I’ll have to tell him about the imminent danger. I groan, not looking forward to it. I’ve been a jittery mess these past few days, and my breathing techniques are taking longer than normal to bring me back to calm.
Van isn’t the only one I have to talk to. There’s Anna and Max. Anna knows all but not that Ash is back. I told her about my past when she came face to face with Ash years ago. After that incident, Ash had disappeared for more than two years. Interpol had sightings of him but nothing of use and never for too long.
And then there’s Max. He knows some but not all about my past, and if he’s here to cause trouble, I have to tell Max. In fact, everyone needs to know what we’re dealing with.
Just then, Max exits the hospital. Tall and broad with his shimmering golden crown of hair and I’d know him anywhere. His steps are casual and self-assured. He’s oblivious to my presence with his head down, forearms strong and defined at his sides, long fingers holding the phone that has all his attention.
I press my hand to stop the stomach flips, excited to see him. More and more I feel this way, though this time is more intense and only partially about the reality of having to share my entire despicable past.
We haven’t seen each other in person in nearly two weeks, so I want tonight for us, to catch up and just be. And I need to tell Van first, he’s due back tomorrow, and then I’ll figure out when and how best to tell Max and Anna. With that thought, I push from the wall and step toward him.
“Hey!”
His head snaps up, missing me during his first quick scan of his surroundings. Almost not seeing anything. On the second time around, our eyes lock and I can’t look away despite the tingles lighting my nerves on fire. A smoldering warmth, and something primal, tracks through his gaze like an electric current.
“Tommie.” My name comes out husky and needy, unlike I’ve ever heard from him before.
This is different for us. Our reactions to each other. Yet I’ve felt something similar and fleeting before and each time, I’ve tried to push it aside. We’re only friends after all. But being apart for days makes it difficult to dismiss how I’m feeling. I’ve missed him and I’m thrilled to think he feels the same.
With three long strides, he’s in front of me and large, smooth hands clasp my face. A pulse of excitement skitte
rs through my core. Lips crash onto mine like waves smashing against a craggy shore. Thrilling and violent. Earth-quaking.
It takes me a few beats to realize what’s going on, or register that I should be pulling away, trying to stop this never-ending, life-affirming kiss. We’re friends. Good friends
This is a good kiss. Shouldn’t good friends have good kisses?
His tongue thrusts into my mouth and my brain is mush. Everything melts away, even the small voice trying to remind me that kissing is too intimate. Even if it is, it feels more than right. I’m kissing Max Conrad and it feels fucking fantastic.
No. We’re best friends. Best friends don’t kiss. Not like this. No matter how amazing it is. I finally manage to break away.
“Max.” His name releases on a gulp of air and my hand presses flat against my stomach to steady the twists within.
“God I’ve missed you.” His emerald green eyes twinkle and his lips spread into a shit-eating grin as he finally releases my face.
I instantly miss the warmth of his touch and my head spins. Barely stopping to breathe, he barrels ahead, as if our kiss never happened.
“The surgery was phenomenal. Everything I hoped it would be. I wanted to call so many times but there was still so much to do.” His fingers rake roughly through his golden locks and he beams.
“Whoa, hang on a sec.” I shake my head. “What just happened?”
He smiles sheepishly, threading strong fingers with mine like he’s done a million times before, and it does ease some of my shock.
“I got carried away. I know you’re not into kissing. Sorry. It’s just that I’ve missed you so much.”
My lips throb, swollen and thoroughly used, as the pulsing of my heartbeat drums in my ears. Sure, as a general rule, kissing isn’t for me, and Max has, on occasion, planted a peck on my lips. Usually it’s to annoy me or tease me for my no kissing rule, which he thinks is absurd, yet he also strangely likes my hard and fast rule. He’s told me before that he likes that I don’t kiss the men I go out with.
But this kiss was different. I’d willingly repeat that kiss, again and again. But I’m not sharing that with him, even if he is my best friend.
Best friends don’t kiss like that. I have to keep reminding myself of this; talking about it would only change things between us. Maybe make things awkward. I don’t want awkward. No more thinking about the kiss.
“Seeing you right now is bringing back the rush of the surgery and everything else.” He pulls me along with him and some of the buzz from the kiss wanes.
Now the kiss from nowhere makes a bit more sense. He must be still riding the high from his greatest career dream coming true. He completed a heart transplant as the lead surgeon for crying out loud. That’s a huge accomplishment even if it was several days ago. I’m exhilarated just thinking about it so I can hardly imagine what he must be feeling.
But the realization of why the kiss happened is a bit of a letdown. It wasn’t really about me. What am I thinking? This is a good thing. It isn’t about me. We’re friends.
We walk for a bit more and then he releases my hand to hook his arm around my neck, tugging me in for a long side hug.
“Hey, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Literally.” Tiny lines of fatigue circle his eyes and mouth, and there’s a weariness lurking in the depths of his eyes.
Shoving our kiss into a trunk in my mind, I slam it shut and lock it. “You too. Why haven’t you had time to meet me? It’s not like you’ve been preparing for heart surgery or anything.”
I snake my arm around his trim waist and he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, nothing like that.”
“So I decided to do what I do best. Stalk you. That’s why I’m here. I was staking out the joint, waiting for you. I’ve got dinner.” I hold up my trusty blue and white polka dot lunch container and his easy smile doubles.
There’s no chance he’s eaten anything in hours. He’s notorious for neglecting his own health despite his profession. Hot dog dinners are our thing and he’ll expect at least three hot dogs just the way he likes them. Mustard. Nothing else.
“God, I love you.” His lips brush my temple, and I squeeze my eyes shut, banishing the wetness pricking at the corners of my eyes.
What the hell is my problem?
I’m not usually emotional. Although I am sleep deprived and on edge. Max’s protectiveness and nurturing ways aren’t new. He has told me he loves me before and I have said the same to him.
If I’m being honest, he’s one of very few who have gotten past most of my barriers. He doesn’t expect or want anything from me. He’s just that kind of guy. A tender-hearted soul. Easy to be with and easy to love.
“You better love me.” I pat his hard stomach and laugh.
“Feed me, please.” He drags me to the nearest bench, nowhere near “our” bench, which is across the street from his building, still many blocks away. He must be really hungry.
“How’s your patient?”
“Good,” he says between mouthfuls. “She had a fever yesterday, but the meds are working and it’s under control.” He stuffs half of the last hot dog into his mouth. “Oh man, you’re an angel. Thank you.”
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”
I bat at his arm and catch his hungry gaze on the dog in my hand. I’ve only had two bites, and I could eat the rest of it, easily. Given he couldn’t even wait to eat, he likely hasn’t had anything all day.
“You want this even with the ketchup and banana peppers?” I give him a lopsided grin, ready to relinquish the sausage to him.
“Are you sure?” His fingers are already on the wrapper, not really waiting to see if I protest.
I snort and roll my eyes dramatically. “Fine. I’ll starve.”
I am hungry but I’ll survive. I’m happy to see him loving the food I brought. We’ll most probably end up at his place and I’ll grab something to eat then. I can wait.
“You’re the best,” he says just before sinking his teeth into the soft bun.
“Easy, remember to chew.” I bump his shoulder and he slows his chewing. “So finish that and then tell me, how’ve you been?”
I barely blink and the hot dog is gone.
“Good. Tired, but good. And you?”
“Okay. Better now that I’ve seen your face.”
He beams and nods. “How’s Clark?”
We stand, and I roll my eyes. His joke was funny the first time he deliberately called Kent Clark, the mix-up on Superman’s alter ego. But now he always does it. I no longer think it’s cute or funny.
“Kent is fine, I suppose.”
We walk to the line of taxis idling at the curb and he lassoes his arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. We are usually touchy and close but for some reason, he seems more so tonight. Or maybe it’s me? Being with him right now is helping to calm the jitters I’ve had the past week.
“My place?” He opens the car door, rattling off his address before we settle into the back. “So, have things progressed with Kent?”
“It’s over.” I’m always ending things before they can even get started, and to spare his questions, I ask, “How’s Barbara?”
My voice takes on an upper crust British accent, bringing a lively smile to his tired face. We don’t usually talk about his girlfriend because she doesn’t care for me and I’m indifferent to her.
Max also isn’t one to share about her, claiming it’s because there isn’t much to say. From what I’ve gathered, I don’t feel his heart is in it.
“I haven’t spoken to her in weeks.”
I’m not really surprised, since he hasn’t had time for me either. “Okay. But things are cool?”
“They are over too.”
“Seriously?” This kind of surprises me. His heart may not have been in it but I got the sense he was comfortable.
“Yep. She wanted more. She wasn’t happy with the sporadic dates or my last-minute cancelations.” He grimaces. “She wanted to move in with me. I d
idn’t.”
“Wow. So you called it quits?”
We pull up in front of his building and he nods, paying the driver. He steers me through the entrance to his building, where the doorman tips his hat.
“Good evening, Ms. Carrington and Mr. Conrad.”
“Hi Gerald.” Max dips his chin.
“Hey, G.” I pat his lapel and smile. “Thank you.”
The elderly gentleman smiles in return and his cheeks heat. “Lovely night for a walk with Gunnar, or are you in for the night?”
Max leaves us to grab his mail.
“We’re staying in. I came by earlier, before your shift, to walk Gunnar. Although he may guilt-trip his daddy into another walk.” I grin in Max’s direction, who is busy going through a stack of envelopes by the elevator.
“Night, G.” I wave and join Max as the doors slide open.
We enter his apartment and I turn on lights, a smile pushing at the corners of my mouth when Gunnar runs to greet me. “Hey, baby, I’ve missed you.”
I bend, burying my face into the warmth of the dog’s furry back and Max chuckles behind me. “I thought you said you came by earlier to walk him?”
“I did. So?” I continue to pet the dog while walking further into his place.
I found the German Shepherd when he was just a dirty, scrawny puppy. Beautiful but neglected. Despite a strict no pets allowed rule in my building, I took him home.
Before I could even contemplate looking for a new place to live, I had to go out of town on assignment and I didn’t want to board my new pup, even with all his shots and a clean bill of health. Max offered to take him and he’s been here ever since.
“Are you coming?” he asks from the living room.
My four-legged friend follows, lying at my feet as I snuggle into the sofa, flicking through our movie choices on the TV. Meanwhile Max walks back and forth from the kitchen with munchies and drinks. We’ve done this too many times to count.
