by Gina Kincade
“Are you exclusive with McLachlan Inc. now?” Gio asked as they crossed the expansive foyer.
Warming to the subject, he nodded. “I am. I left the concierge service I was with when he threw his support behind me to start my own. I’m supervising a few other docs. We tag team to cover all of Calen’s clubs and restaurants. He prefers to handle his staff’s healthcare needs personally, rather than having them solely depend on local resources. Calen is our only commercial contract, but we keep busy with a lot of volunteer efforts as well and will be expanding to the Caislean group next year. I spend a lot of time on the road these days.”
Going everywhere except Vegas.
“Well, I think that’s great. And I’m glad you’re in a good place now.”
Tensing, Eric whipped his head back to Gio. “Oh…thank you.”
Where had that come from? He stared at the other man, who appeared to be biting his tongue.
Oh, no. The Italian knew about his past. Had Calen told him?
Gio reddened and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I thought you recognized me. I was with Calen when he met you. Don’t you remember?”
He didn’t, not at all. Of course, he had been blackout drunk at the time. Eric shifted uncomfortably and two of them stared at each other. Half-expecting a recriminating lecture, he exhaled when Gio watched him with nothing but awkward discomfort.
“It was impressive how you saved that young man, considering the circumstances.”
Wishing he could sink through the floor, Eric smiled till it hurt. “Oh, sorry. Crazy night. I don’t remember all the details anymore.”
Admitting that was the most difficult thing he’d done in a long while. Gio was polite enough not to dwell on his discomfort. “I’d never seen an emergency tracheotomy before. I thought there would be more blood…”
“There was some.” A small amount had been on his clothes the next day.
After another long pause, Gio coughed. “Well, I’ve kept you long enough. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
“I do!” he said gratefully.
“Where are you heading to next?”
“Back to Boston,” he said, checking the impulse to thank Gio for his time. It hadn’t been a job interview.
Gio nodded at him. “Buon viaggio.”
“Thank you,” he said, escaping gratefully. He was down the hall before his heart slowed.
He hadn’t had to confront his past in some time. Down in the lobby, he asked the doorman to wave down a taxi for him. He staggered into it, throwing his bag on the seat next to him. After giving the driver directions to the airport, he slumped back in the seat, watching the city slip by.
More than two years had passed since the night Gio had referenced. After making a splash in his surgical residency, Eric had moved home to Vegas to care for his ailing mother. After she had passed, he’d stayed on because he liked the hospital he was working at. It had been a huge mistake.
His problem wasn’t alcohol. It was the poker tables.
After the grinding shifts at the hospital, he started joining coworkers at the casinos to unwind. And then he started going by himself. When he had a good night he’d go to a club to celebrate. That was where he’d met Andie.
She was working at Calen McLachlan’s club Lynx as a waitress to put herself through school. A light flirtation had turned into a blistering affair. They saw each other for months, whenever he could pull himself away from the poker tables.
The gambling had consumed him. His work had suffered, mainly because he started missing shifts. In the end, that had been a blessing. Trying to perform surgery after staying up all night would have been a disaster, so he didn’t do it. He’d been careful to get someone to fill in at first, but his good manners and conscientiousness eroded as his addiction tightened its grip.
The hospital had no choice. When they’d finally fired him he’d gone to Lynx to drown his sorrows. The next thing he knew he was waking up with a splitting headache in the manager’s office. The head of security chief, a huge burly guy Andie had pointed out to him once, had been staring down at him with his arms crossed.
“Am I in trouble?” Eric asked.
“Not exactly.” Mike Ward had laughed after introducing himself.
“Why is there blood on my shirt?”
“Because you cut a man’s neck open last night.”
“What?”
Mike uncrossed his arms. “Some stupid frat kids were daring each other to see who could swallow the most ice cubes whole. One of them started choking. Our on-call doctor tried to trach him, but he was shaking like a leaf. He was botching the thing when you pushed him out of the way. I was going to stop you, cause you were obviously piss drunk, but once you got the knife in your hand the damnedest thing happened. It was like you were instantly sober. Calen said it must have been muscle memory.”
“I have done it a few times before in the ER,” he admitted.
“Good thing, because you did it too fast for us to stop you.” Mike laughed, handing him a can of soda. “Sorry, the coffee machine is in the boss’ office. It’s upstairs if you want some.”
It was the offer of coffee that made him relax. They weren’t going to sue him for practicing drunk. He could lose his medical license—and he would deserve it. He had no business treating anyone in that condition.
His relief was short-lived. “The boss wants to see you,” Mike informed him. “He’ll see you here this evening, Dr. Tam.”
Eric froze. The mobster knew his name. “Calen McLachlan wants to meet me?”
Andie had told him all about the man who owned the club. He’d thought it was amusing that her boss was the son of a notorious gangster. Well, it wasn’t funny anymore.
Mike had given him a small amused smile. “At nine tonight. Don’t be late.”
“I might have to work tonight.”
“No you don’t.”
“Um…”
“We know you were just fired. And about your gambling problem. We did our homework after you passed out.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling sick.
Mike grinned at him. “The way I see it, you don’t have many options right now. So don’t be late.”
And he wasn’t.
The last thing he’d expected that night was a job offer, but that’s what he got—after a non-negotiable stint in rehab. He’d done the latter without complaint. Getting fired was his rock bottom, but thanks to Calen he bounced back faster than he would have on his own. And he learned his lesson about judging people based on rumors.
Calen wasn’t dangerous. In fact, he was the most conscientious and ethical employer he’d ever had. Eric wouldn’t go out on a limb and say they were friends, but he liked and respected the man. And now, years later, he could safely assume his boss respected him. Calen wouldn’t have backed his bid to open his own business if he didn’t.
The one thing he did ask of him was the Eric let one of the other doctors handle his Las Vegas properties. It had been the right move. He hadn’t wanted to test his sobriety or his resolve not to gamble. Years had gone by, and he hadn’t returned. Calen said it was better not to tempt fate and Eric hadn’t wanted to jeopardize his recovery.
By the time he got to the airport, Eric had a handle on his emotions. He tried not to dwell on the past. He reminded himself that he had done what was necessary to salvage his career and possibly his life. But it had come at a cost…and her name was Andie.
Chapter Two
“Did you come here tonight to see me?” Andie asked.
Eric forgot she couldn’t see his nod in the darkness of the storage room.
“Yes,” he groaned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck.
There had been plenty of time to stop at the club tonight since he hadn’t bothered to go to the hospital for his shift.
He pushed thoughts of the hospital away when Andie giggled and her breast brushed across his cheek. Growing hard, he pulled the neckline of her tank top down, freeing one rounded breast. He palmed
it, running his hand up over her nipple until she gasped.
“If they find us like this, they’re going to fire you.” He didn’t want to stop, but felt it was only fair to warn her.
“I haven’t clocked in yet, and no one but the manager knows about this storeroom,” she reminded him in a whisper. He suppressed a shudder when she licked his lips with a slow stroke of her tongue. “They don’t use this space anymore.”
That may have been true, but they were still begging for trouble. Lynx was one of the most popular clubs on the strip. It was crowded every night. Sooner or later someone would find them here—but hopefully not tonight.
Located in the top stories of a high-rise hotel, Lynx was still the place to be despite newer imitators opening up across the strip. Eric didn’t like the new places. They didn’t capture the vibe this place had…and Andie didn’t work at those places. She worked here.
Or she would until someone caught them grinding on the torn booth someone had stuck in a cramped storeroom.
“Eric,” Andie moaned when his hands traced up her thighs and under her skirt. She moved down his lap, unzipping him as she went.
Drunk on the feel of her, he was slow to react when she worked his shorts down and wrapped her hands around his dick. Her tongue flicked out to tease the head of his shaft.
He hissed and held onto her head as she swallowed him whole. “Shit!”
His hips pump reflexively as she worked her mouth up and down. Each suck sent a pulse of pleasure to the back of his brain. Her hair brushed against his bare thighs, tickling him. He reached for her, his hand fisting in her hair.
It was so soft. Everything of hers was soft. Her creamy skin, her lips. Even her pussy—she was waxed smooth at his request.
But nothing beat what she felt like when he slid into her. “Stop baby,” he whispered, panting slightly. “I want to be inside you.”
Andie giggled when he tugged her up onto his lap. Fisting his dick, he pumped a few times so he’d be rock hard for her. He was just starting to slide into her delicious warmth when he woke up.
Eric swore viciously, rolling over in bed until he was sitting up. He dropped his head in his hand and exhaled.
It had been like this since he’d flown home. He hadn’t thought of Andie for so long and now…now he couldn’t get through a night without dreaming of her, of being with her. And every morning he woke up alone, aching and frustrated.
Celibacy is taking its toll.
Eric had spent the last two years rebuilding his life. Every bit of his energy went into his work and repairing his reputation as a doctor. Though female patients periodically hit on him, he kept things professional. There hadn’t been anyone since Andie.
He’d reached out to the hospital staff in Vegas to make amends for the way he let them down. But not to Andie. He couldn’t even explain why.
When he left, Andie gave him a brittle goodbye and then blew him off when he’d asked her to a last dinner. She didn’t respond to his few attempts to stay in touch—and she shouldn’t have. His one text and phone call were a half-hearted bid to keep some sort of toehold in her life. Andie deserved more.
Burying himself in work, he did his best to ignore his mixed-up feelings. Keeping busy was important. He worked eighteen-hour days and avoided temptation. He couldn’t afford to backslide.
Late one night Eric had just finished clearing his backlog of emails and insurance forms when he got a call.
Let that be a wrong number. It was after two AM. Nothing good ever happened after two AM.
“Mike here,” a gravel-filled voice said when he finally found his cell under a stack of papers.
He relaxed. After his inauspicious first meeting with Calen’s head of security, the two had struck up a friendship. “Hey, man. How is the setup of the Sydney club coming along?”
Mike was supposed to be in Australia right now. What time was it there?
“I’m in Vegas actually,” Mike answered. “We have a problem here. Andie’s in trouble.”
Eric sat back in his chair, a jolt of surprise and concern shooting through his chest. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Three
Eric banged on the door a third time. There was no answer. Andie wasn’t home.
He’d driven to her apartment complex the minute he landed. The worn structure had grown downright dingy since he’d seen it last. Eric had only been there a few times. During their affair, he’d mostly hooked up with her at the club or at a hotel on the strip if he’d had a good night at the tables.
He knocked again, squinting through the gap in the curtains. The glass was dirty, but he could still see most of the living room. There was no furniture.
Shit. Had Andie moved?
He searched for a neighbor to question. The middle-aged guy in a wife-beater next door told him Andie had given up her lease last week. He didn’t know where she had gone. He tried a few more doors, hoping to find someone who had her new address, but no one else answered.
Giving up, he headed to his rental car, taking the steps two at a time. Once there he texted Mike to ask if she had updated her employment records. The answer came right away.
No, that’s the current one in her paperwork. There’s more news now. Calen has decided to let her go.
They were going to fire her? What for? Andie had been one of Lynx’s best waitresses for years. She had gotten the job there so she could go to school in the day, and she had never missed a shift when they had been together. As far as he knew she had done a stellar job—as long as no one knew about the two of them hooking up in the storeroom. And he didn’t think anyone did.
No one but Mike knew they had even been together, and that was only because Eric had told him on a red-eye one night. They’d bonded after spending weeks working together setting up Calen’s new restaurant in Dubrovnik. That was almost a year after the fact, and the news of their involvement had taken Mike by surprise. Eric neglected to mention their storeroom activities.
Mike was a hell of a security chief. If he hadn’t been aware of their relationship, then Eric was confident no one else knew. Andie hadn’t seen fit to share the news with any of the other waitresses. According to Mike, she never mentioned him at all. He tried not to think about that.
Throwing his jacket into the passenger seat, he sat behind the wheel before texting Mike again.
What the hell is going on?
It wasn’t the first time he asked, but the security chief had been strangely silent on the matter. All he’d said was that the situation was still developing. Eric didn’t like the sound of that.
His phone buzzed.
Get over here to the club’s security office. It’s bad.
“Fuck,” he swore. He drove to the strip as quickly as he could.
The interior of Lynx always appeared strange to him in daylight. The dark interiors were a little washed out, and it lost a little bit of its magic. However, it was oddly more intimidating at this hour, with its leather and ultra-modern light fixtures and moldings. Calen spared no expense on details people only got hazy glimpses of at night, With the lights on he could see the detailed designs on the moldings and the texture on the walls.
I am not cool enough for this place, he thought as he climbed the stairs to Mike’s office. The security chief had sent a follow-up text. Calen was on his way. Whatever this mess Andie was in was pretty fucking serious.
His heart dropped when he opened the door to Mike’s office. Calen was already there, sitting behind the desk. Mike, a burly guy with silver in his hair, stood next to him. He pointed to something on the computer screen in front of them.
“I don’t see it,” Calen muttered. He looked up and scowled. “What the hell are you doing here, Eric?”
He hesitated. Hadn’t his boss known he was coming?
“I called him,” Mike said.
“Why?”
The question hung in the air for a second and Eric resisted the urge to apologize as he sat in the chair on the other side of
the desk.
“I trust his expertise over the others in the new medical crew,” Mike said. “This thing is about to blow up and I want our best hands on deck. Plus, he and Andie were friends back in the day.”
“Really?” Calen asked, narrowing his eyes at him. “Just friends?”
Eric nodded, grateful Mike didn’t go into detail. Disclosing the true intimate nature of their relationship—former relationship—probably wouldn’t help her right now.
“Now can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked Mike.
The security chief and his boss exchanged a loaded glance. Calen sat back in the leather chair, taking something out of his pocket and setting it on the desk. It was a clear capsule with a purple liquid almost neon in color.
“This is Drek. It’s a new designer street drug. Some variant of liquid heroine, but with a supposed smoother high. It’s highly concentrated and can be hidden anywhere. You swallow the capsule whole or it dissolves in a drink before you can blink. We got wind of it only a few weeks ago but it’s all over the strip now. There have been two ODs at other clubs so far. One kid is in the hospital—a complication from an undiagnosed heart issue. But given how fast it’s spreading, this is only the start. These things are so tiny some drunk asshole’s going to pop a handful any day now. I want to get out ahead of this before someone dies here.”
“Okay, but what does this have to do with Andie?”
Mike stepped back and hit a spot on the panel behind him. A molded square opened, revealing a hidden wall safe. Eric tried not to stare open-mouthed at the high-tech set up as he hit a few buttons and opened the door. Mike took out a small plastic bag holding a bunch of identical neon purple capsules.
“We found these in Andie’s locker during a random spot check.”
Bullshit. He shook his head. “That can’t be right. She doesn’t do drugs. She doesn’t even drink hard liquor—only wine and the occasional beer.”
He didn’t care how much time had passed. That wouldn’t change.
