“Would you like a drink?”
She quickly scanned the wine list. “House red is fine. What do you want, Jason?”
“To talk. To apologize for that mess the other day.”
Shae sighed, knowing exactly what he was up to. Jason was doing damage control. After being called out by Otis in front of the press, he’d had to do some spectacular back-tracking about his non-friendship with Bay. This wasn’t about his behavior. Once again, Jason was protecting the only person he’d ever loved: Jason.
The waiter brought the wine over and she drained half the glass as soon as he set it in front of her.
“Jason, I haven’t got time for your games. What do you want from me?”
He smiled and Shae wondered when it had happened that her first reaction to that smile was to punch it. “I just need your guarantee that you won’t go to the press with anything that might have happened during our marriage—or afterward.”
Shae gritted her teeth. “And you’ll have that as soon as you sign the divorce papers.”
Jason rocked his head from side to side. “See, I only have your word. I can’t really take that to the bank, can I?”
“Yeah, well, I only had your word that you wouldn’t cheat on me, so …”
Jason sighed dramatically. “Shae, that again? Haven’t we moved past this?”
“You really are a jerk, you know that? I ask myself time and time again why the fuck I married you, and I still can’t figure it out. I’ll ask for the last time. What do you want?”
Jason pulled a folder out of his bag. “A non-disclosure agreement. You sign this and I’ll sign the divorce papers.”
Shae took the agreement and read through it. “Not to disclose all and any extra-marital affairs of either partner.” She made a disgusted noise. “Blah, blah, blah.” She stopped. “Not to confirm or deny Mr. Kline’s friendship with Miss Bay Tambe. Jason, you do not have a friendship with Bay. You’ve never met her. Leave her out of it.”
Jason smiled coldly. “Sign the document, Shae, and this all goes away.”
“And suppose Bay wants my support when she nails your ass to the wall for involving her in your repugnant thirst for publicity?”
“You’ll just say you don’t know anything about it. How hard is that?”
Shae drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down. “First, the idea that I would ever refuse to back up my friend is ridiculous. Unlike you, Jason, I know what loyalty means.”
“No NDA, no divorce.”
He really doesn’t get it, does he? Suddenly, Shae smiled. “Fine. Well, in two years I’ll file for adultery and release the photos of you and that skank, plus I’ll trash you in the press. You seem to forget, I hold all the cards here, Jason. You have nothing I want.”
Finally, there was anger in his face. “You fucking bitch. What the hell was I thinking, hooking up with a stuck-up, snooty Type-A like you?”
Shae was enjoying herself now. “Snooty and stuck up mean the same thing.”
Jason slammed his fist down on the table. “Sign the fucking NDA, Shae, or I’ll make your life hell.”
Shae put her head on one side. “Oh, Jason, you will never learn, will you? Can’t believe you fell for the same trick.”
Jason looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?
Shae grinned widely and brought her hand up from under the table. Her phone was recording everything they were saying. Shae pulled it out of Jason’s reach and slid her finger over the save button.
“Annnnd it’s in the cloud,” she crowed and stood up to leave. Jason lunged for her, but as soon as he moved, two men at the next table got up. Motioning at them that she was fine, Shae merely stepped out of Jason’s way. “Goodbye, Jason. I don’t expect we’ll talk again.”
She walked out into the evening air and finally felt free.
“You look like shit.”
Otis gave his brother a half-smile. “I’m so glad I opened the door to you. You want to come in?”
He stepped aside to let Roman into his apartment. Roman took in the football game on the T.V., the two empty beer bottles, and the unopened bag of potato chips. He looked at his brother, his mouth hitching up at the corner.
“Quite the party.”
Otis shoved some magazines aside on the couch to make room for his brother. “To what do I owe this pleasure …you wanna a beer, by the way?”
“Sure.” Roman waited until Otis came back from the kitchen and handed him a bottle. “Thanks. So …Tom called.”
Otis rolled his eyes. “I figured. Look, I just needed to get away. I had a bad case—a death that I should have prevented. What with Bay …”
“Got it.”
Otis knew his brother would understand. However much both of them tried, neither could get past that day in the bodega. Roman had disappeared into his books and law school, Otis into medicine. Looking at his brother now, Otis could see the strain he felt reflected in Roman’s eyes.
“This whole deal sucks,” Roman said after a few minutes of silence. “Stu Lawson has gone to ground; no one has a fucking clue where they might be. Shit.”
Otis swirled his beer around in the bottle. “Bay’s getting better, though, Rome. That’s a positive.”
“Uh-huh. So why aren’t you at work helping that process?”
Damn it. He’d fallen for Roman’s easy trap. Otis leaned back so his head was on the couch cushion and stared at the ceiling. “I fucked up on a patient. Lost her. And Bay …she could have died on my watch. I left a resident in charge of her rehab and she stretched herself too far.”
Roma drained his beer. “So far, everything you’ve told me sounds like a normal day for a surgeon. And you’ve never run away from a crisis, so why now? Has it got something to do with that resident—the cute one?”
Otis looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Come on. Bay told me she thought she saw something between you two and now you’re acting weird.”
Otis sighed. “It’s not Shae—Dr. Groves. It’s me. Ever since Bay was shot, I feel like I’m waiting for …I don’t know. Waiting to hear screaming. Waiting for someone to tell me that I couldn’t save her, that Bay died, right there in front of me. When they found her in her room, she was bleeding so heavily I didn’t think I could stop it. I got through the surgery, but afterward, I freaked out and took it out on Shae.”
Roman listened to his brother. “You’ve fallen for her.”
Otis opened his mouth to argue, then sighed. “Yeah.”
“And you think that finally being happy will interfere with your work? That’s bullshit, Otis.”
“I know. It’s not that …”
“Man, listen to me. You are not God; neither do you have a time machine. You cannot save every patient. You can’t go back and save dad, but guess what? You did save Bay. None of it has anything to do with that resident.”
“Shae.”
“Shae. Go get her.”
Otis shook his head. “No. I don’t care if it kills me, but I won’t risk her career for an affair.”
Roman sighed. “Suit yourself. But stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back to work.”
Otis tapped his beer bottle against his brother’s. “I’ll think about it.”
Shae arched her back up out of the chair and stretched, groaning with relief. She’d been updating Dr. Roiz’s medical charts for hours. She glanced out of the window. Night had fallen over Portland. She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to wake herself up.
“Where have you been?”
She looked around and was astonished to see Bay walking, albeit slowly, with Tom’s arm around her waist. The brunette smiled at her, although Shae could see she was in pain. Shae cleared off the other two chairs. “Sit. Sit. God, look at you.”
Tom helped Bay into one of the chairs. “She insisted on coming to see you.”
“You haven’t been to visit all week,” Bay said accusingly, obviously relieved at sitting do
wn. Shae flushed.
“I’m sorry, honey. Dr. Roiz is a hard task master.” She looked Bay over. “You look amazing. You’ve put on weight.”
“I even eat the Jell-O now. I hate Jell-O, but it tastes better in here.”
“Except the Lime flavor. She threw that up. It was like The Exorcist.” Bay batted at Tom, who grinned back at her. Shae smiled, but a small part of her ached for the connection with someone else that she saw between these two people.
“I am sorry I haven’t been up, but, jeez, Bay, you’re walking. That’s wonderful to see.”
Bay glanced at Tom, who gave a nod and got up. “I’m going to grab us all some coffee. Shae?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
Tom disappeared and Shae raised an eyebrow at Bay, knowing what was coming. Bay didn’t disappoint.
“What’s going on between you and Otis?”
Shae tried to smile. “Nothing—anymore. This is for the best, really. It’s never a good idea to mix work and pleasure.”
Bay grinned. “Didn’t do me and Tom any harm.”
Shae looked askance at her and Bay shook her head. “This,” she pointed at her still heavily-bandaged belly, “didn’t have anything to do with me and Tom. This was Stu being a psycho.”
“Fair point, but still …”
Bay leaned forward conspiratorially. “Was it good?”
Shae laughed and shook her head. “Pleading the fifth.”
“Spoilsport. So are you going to come see me more often?”
“I promise.”
Later, when Tom had taken a flagging Bay back to her room, Shae asked herself why she had avoided her new friend. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Bay reminded her of being with Otis, being included in that lovely group of friends, and of being welcomed into their fold. By avoiding her, Shae was trying to push the heartbreak away.
Because she had fallen in love with Otis Ford, not just that one night when they’d screwed each other into a frenzy, but during surgery because of his expertise, his patience, and his generosity to share his skills with others. Maybe, when he had lost Sue-Lin Morita, she should have let him rant, blame her for Bay, and take all his frustration out on her. Maybe he would have calmed down and apologized. She would never know because her own temper had taken over.
Her pager beeped. She was being called into an emergency operation. Shoot. She was already dog-tired and hungry. She grabbed another power bar from the machine—they seemed to cover all of her major food groups lately—and jogged to the theater. The surgeon was already preparing the patient for anesthetic as she scrubbed in. She backed her way through the doors.
“At last, we can begin.” The surgeon turned to her and she froze.
“Dr. Groves?”
Those eyes. That voice. Shae struggled to get a grip of her emotions. “Dr. Ford.”
“Shall we begin?”
Shae pulled her scrubs off furiously, throwing them into her locker, and cursing loudly. Two interns looked at her askance; she glared at them until they fled.
She wanted to scream, but instead kicked her locker, hard, then leaned her hot forehead against the cool metal. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready to see you.
“You know, the hospital frowns on that kind of vandalism.”
Shae froze for the second time that night, closing her eyes. She felt a fingertip being drawn down her bare back and shivered.
“Stop.”
She turned to face him, aware that only her very lacy, very work-inappropriate bra protected her modesty. To his credit, Otis kept his eyes on hers; if he hadn’t, she might have lost it.
“Good work tonight.”
God. “Screw you.”
“I’d much rather screw—“
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, you jumped-up Napoleon-complexed …dill-hole.”
Otis struggled to hide a grin. “Napoleon was five-eight. Taller than you think, but still a good six inches smaller than me.”
Shae grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, pushing past him. “Goodnight, doctor.”
She got only a few steps down the corridor before he pulled her into a supply closet, locking the door behind him. She was mad now.
“What the fuck do you—“
His mouth was on hers, his hands on her, and—damn it—her own body betrayed her, arching against him and tearing at his clothes as he did hers. Otis pushed her up against the wall and thrust into her as she gasped, scratching and biting at him, her anger twisting with her desire for him.
They fucked hard, Shae meeting every thrust of his hips with a fever she couldn’t control, her nails digging into his buttocks and her tongue meeting his.
Otis suddenly swept her down to the floor, pressing her legs apart and ramming himself into her as if desperate. “Shae, Shae, Shae …”
She moaned at the need in his voice. Her legs tightened around his waist, urging him deeper still.
She felt him come with hot thrusts inside her, filling her, and shuddered through her own orgasm. Otis kissed her deeply, tenderly.
“God, I’ve missed you …”
No. no. What was she thinking? He could break her heart with just one word. She pushed him away. “What are we doing …what am I doing?” She scrambled to pick up her clothes and tried to grab the door knob, but his hand stopped her.
“Don’t. It’s okay, Shae.”
She turned to him. “No …it’s not, Otis. I’m not this woman—this woman who forgives everything because her man can fuck her into submission.” Shae started to sob, then, full of anger and exhaustion. “Please, Otis, let me go.”
“If that’s what you want, Shae, I won’t stop you. Just please …hear me out.”
She took deep breaths in and he took that as consent to speak. “Shae, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took what happened to Bay out on you. I’m sorry I left when I should have made things right between us.”
Shae closed her eyes. “Otis, I can’t do this.” She felt his fingertips drift down her cheek and she opened her eyes. His deep brown eyes gazed back at her, tender and warm. Slowly, he pressed his lips against hers and she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to taste him, get drunk on him, and forget everything but the way he was looking at her right now, his soft kiss, and his hands on her body, pulling her against his bare chest. Otis dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth and she moaned, her legs trembling. Otis held her up, his arms strong around her.
“Shae, my beautiful, wonderful, brilliant Shae, please …one last chance. Give me that and I’ll never let you down again.”
She wanted to believe him so badly, so, so badly … “I can’t,” she said, fumbling behind her for the doorknob and yanking the door open.
This time, he didn’t stop her.
Roman rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. Five seventeen a.m. He sighed and picked up his ringing phone. “Yep?”
“Boss?”
“Dwyer?” His chief of security.
“Yep. We found ‘em, boss. Lawson and the girl. They’re at a roach motel in Bakersfield.”
Roman sat up in bed. “Kym’s alive?”
“So far. Only the dude has left the motel room for any reason. We don’t know if she’s just not coming out or whether she’s been restrained. Do you want us to go in?”
Roman swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No. Do nothing but watch. If they move, let me know. Send me the address; I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Tom had fallen asleep next to her. Now that all the tubes and I.V. had been removed, she could move more freely, but all Bay wanted was to lie next to him. Her recovery was speeding up now and she could walk—slowly—up and downstairs. She was starting to feel like herself again.
She pulled out the new phone Tom had bought her from her bag. She always grinned when she saw it. Of course Tom had spared no expense, buying her the most up-to-date, state-of-the-art device.
She knew Kym’s number by heart—and if she hadn’t, she would h
ave practically ingested it over the last few days, calling the number over and over. The mailbox was full, mostly with Bay’s pleas to her best friend to call her if she could. She listened to the message over and over now, dread pounding at her.
“She’s not going to answer, sweetheart.” Tom was awake and watching her. Bay ended the call.
“I won’t believe she’s dead, Tom, until somebody tells me for sure.” Her voice broke and Tom stroked her cheek.
“Roman will find her.”
“Roman is pissed at her. You too. I see it in your eyes.”
Tom sighed, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I know it’s not fair and that I shouldn’t blame her for this …”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Bay said, her voice quivering. “If you don’t know what it’s like to be in an abusive relationship, to have that fear, you can’t judge.”
“No, I know. But I’m the one who found you with three bullets in your belly. I’m the one who found you bleeding out. I get to be a little pissed—at least in private.”
Bay relented. “In private, yes.” She kissed him softly. “In private, I get to be pissed she didn’t call the cops on his ass. But when she comes back, no recriminations.”
“Deal.”
Bay sighed, nuzzling into her neck. “I just hope Roman remembers she’s the victim and Stu’s the monster.”
Roman kicked in the door precisely as Stu was walking to it. The other man slammed to the ground and Roman was on him, punching repeatedly until Stu was a quaking and barely conscious, a mess on the floor.
“That’s for Bay,” Roman said, his voice steady. He looked up and his heart broke. Kym was tied to the headboard, her wrists red raw from pulling at the plastic ties. Her clothes were filthy, her hair hung in dank, limp strands, and her face was bruised. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Roman approached her slowly.
“Kym …?”
“Roman?” He was relieved her voice sound somewhat normal and that she wasn’t traumatized so badly that she couldn’t communicate. He went to her and freed her; as soon as she was loose, she fell into his arms. He held her as she sobbed.
Rockstar Untamed: A Single Dad Virgin Romance Page 92
