by Cassie Wild
“You don’t have the balls,” Jerrel said with a sneer.
“Are you sure?”
The sneer wobbled, then fell away. “You fuck with me, you’re fucking with the Castellanos.”
“I don’t think Basilio Castellanos gives a flying fuck about you.” I hitched up a shoulder. “But we can always call him and see. I’ve got Duardo’s number in me cell. Want to give him a call and ask him what his father thinks about Marcos’s little operation up here?”
“How about you suck me dick?” Jerrel said in a very bad attempt at an Irish accent. He pointed at me. “Remember what I said. You’re done with this job. Keep away from Briar. She’s mine to handle now.”
He strutted down the sidewalk as I glared daggers into his back. Once he was gone, I kept standing there, my mind spinning.
I was still trying to figure a way out of this fucking mess when he sped by in his van just a couple of minutes later.
He flipped me off.
I didn’t bother to respond, just turned on my heel and headed inside.
It wasn’t until the warmth of the air kissed my flesh that I realized how cold it was outside—and how cold I’d gotten.
Feeling numb, I walked over to the bottom step of the stairs and sat, looking at the rug without really seeing it.
I had no idea what to do now. No idea where I should go.
I couldn’t just up and go back to Miami.
I wasn’t so much as concerned about Jerrel’s threats and his comments about being done with the Castellanos family. I had other people I’d done work for and other options available to me.
I was worried about Briar.
Jerrel’s comments about stepping in both pissed me off and concerned me.
How exactly did he plan to step in?
If he thought I’d let him touch Briar, I’d cut his hands off at the wrists, then chop them into chunks and feed each piece to him until he choked.
And Briar…fuck, what was she thinking right now?
What was she feeling?
That thought hit me right in the chest.
Since when had I ever concerned myself with how somebody felt? It had never mattered to me how my actions affected others. Yet here I sat, all but sick at the thought of her hurting, confused…even angry, although I’d damn well rather she be angry at me than hurt or confused.
And I had a feeling she was likely feeling all three.
I could always hope she hadn’t believed Jerrel, but it wasn’t like I’d given her any great reason to trust in me, and we barely knew each other, when one got right to it.
The telephone rang.
The sound was so startling in the quiet house that I jumped.
Swearing, I got to my feet, and as I did so, a car drove down the street. My blood chilled as I recognized the patrol car. Philadelphia Police Department.
Jerrel’s taunting words echoed in my mind, and I hissed out a breath. The car kept right on driving, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the asshole called the police anyway.
I jogged back to the room Briar and I had used and gathered my clothes, my mind a million—actually, seven miles—away. At the hospital where Briar worked.
I wanted, more than anything, to go see her.
But I still had no idea what to say, what to do.
Fuck Jerrel. Fuck him, fuck Marcos.
And fuck me.
Three
Briar
The texts started coming not long after I had my coffee break.
I didn’t look at any of them until I sat down for a quick lunch.
After taking care of a couple of rather easy cases, I’d retreated to the break room once more, popping a couple of over-the-counter painkillers for my headache. I made myself eat something, although my appetite was non-existent.
After eating roughly half of the crappy frozen meal I’d gotten from the vending machine, I dumped the rest and sat down, staring at my phone and the little notification bubble that showed the messages from Cormac.
I didn’t really want to open them, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
I caught a glimpse of the most recent one, skimming it before scrolling down and starting at the bottom.
Wish you would have woke me up before you left. Already thinking about getting my hands on you again.
I deleted it.
Before I could change my mind, I scrolled farther down and started deleting texts like mad, including the hot, sexy ones that had led up to the torrid hours of last night.
Once I’d finished deleting every text but the ones I hadn’t read, I scrolled back upward and read the rest of the unread texts.
There were three.
I don’t know what time you’re planning on taking lunch, but maybe give me a call?
That had come about an hour after my coffee break.
The last two came within twenty minutes of each other.
Seems like you’re having one of your crazy days. Haven’t heard from you all day.
Give me a call when you can, baby. Miss hearing your voice.
I deleted all of them.
I’d no sooner finished than another one came through. I closed the app so I wasn’t tempted to respond. I didn’t know what to say, although I had a whole hell of a lot of questions and the discussion he and I needed to have wasn’t one that needed to happen via text—or while I was at work.
Chatter picked up on the Bluetooth, and I rose. I’d had only about twenty minutes, but I’d already eaten as much as I was going to eat, and I didn’t want to sit and stare at my phone—and brood.
Shoving the device into my pocket, I washed my hands and got back to work.
I’d just finished giving a set of orders to my nurse when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I had no idea what sort of look passed over my face, but it apparently gave something away because Charissa’s brows shot up almost to her hairline, and she whistled under her breath. “Damn, doc. What was that look for?”
“Nothing,” I said, hurriedly pasting a smile on my face.
She didn’t buy it. “Uh, huh.”
“It’s…” Sighing, I shook my head. “Just some problems with this guy I was seeing.” The past tense caught me by surprise, but I didn’t correct myself. “My phone just vibrated. He’s probably texting me again. I’m just…”
“Fed up?” she supplied when I didn’t finish the sentence.
“Exactly.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “Get some peppermint schnapps and ice cream on the way home. Turn off your phone. Dump the schnapps all over the ice cream and eat up. Tomorrow, text the d-bag and tell him to leave you alone.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “If that don’t work, let me know. I can have my brothers pay him a visit for you.”
The offer startled a laugh out of me. “Thanks, but I can handle this. I might try the schnapps and ice cream though.”
“Always helps me.” She checked her tablet. “I’m going to get started on this patient. Hang in there, Dr. Downing.”
I kept telling myself that for the next few hours. They flew by. It was weird how that worked. I was dreading the end of my shift because I had a bad feeling I’d find him out there waiting for me.
Even though I knew we’d have to talk, I wasn’t ready yet.
I needed some space to clear my head and some time to think, and I couldn’t possibly do that here at work.
I could do some brooding tonight over ice cream and yummy peppermint liqueur, but until I had a chance to do that, seeing Cormac, talking to him was out of the question.
I brooded over the issue and considered several options, tossing them all out as just too implausible or too volatile. One of the better options would be for me to have Brooks come pick me up. He could arrange for somebody to bring my car home, but he’d want to know why, and I couldn’t think of a plausible story that would satisfy him, other than the truth.
And if I told him the truth about Cormac?
I shuddered a little at the thought.
&n
bsp; Yeah, he’d told me he was out of the family business, and I did believe him, but he was still loyal to our dad and Declan. And…Cormac had been using me.
I still didn’t understand just what the bastard’s endgame was.
I didn’t know jackshit about how my dad operated. I didn’t want to know. I had no idea if anybody would believe that, but even if I could convince people that I’d spent my life in an intentional vacuum just so I wouldn’t have to face the realities of what my family did, in a way, I was still guilty by association. I couldn’t seem to make myself walk away…not yet, at least. And I’d benefited from every illegal penny my father had made over the years.
No more, though, I told myself.
It was high time I faced the truth and faced them. I just had to figure out how to do it.
You’re avoiding the subject.
Yes. I was.
It hurt too much thinking about Cormac. A knot settled in my throat, so big it hurt to swallow.
“Dr. Downing?”
I glanced up and saw a fellow doctor bearing down on me. “Hello, Dr. Moyes.”
Dr. Terrence Moyes gestured for me to follow him. “I’ve got a case you might find interesting. We’re prepping for surgery now.”
Happy to have something to distract me, I fell into step with him. He gave me a name, and I found the patient on my tablet, scrolling through the admitting info. I winced in sympathy at the description. “And it’s still in there, I hope?”
“Yep.” He gave me a quick look as we hurried down the hall. “The boy has an older sister who is nineteen, going to school to be a nurse. She’s in her second year. She heard her mom screaming and got there just as the dad was about to pull the pen out. She made him stop and called 9-1-1.”
“Smart girl.” I finished skimming the details. Ten-year-old kid running down the hall to answer the door, holding a ballpoint pen in his hand. Tripped over the family pet and fell down, landing on the pen, causing a penetrating injury to the right chest. His oxygen levels were holding surprisingly steady. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Estimating about thirty minutes ago. They only live two miles from here.”
We pushed through the doors that led to surgery, and I passed my tablet off and went to go scrub.
The next several hours were spent working side by side with Dr. Moyes. He handled most of the heavier work but stepped aside and allowed me to close. Once I’d finished the last of the sutures, I checked the vitals and looked at him over the still body of the patient.
He gave the sutures a critical look, then returned my nod. Although our surgical masks hid the lower half of the face, I could tell he was smiling by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Good work,” he told me, then nodded at the rest of the team. “All of you.”
We moved out of the area so the patient could be moved to post-op.
As we were washing up, Dr. Moyes glanced at me. “You’re quieter today than normal, Dr. Downing.”
More than a few people had made similar comments. I smiled self-consciously. “Am I usually such a chatterbox?”
“Not so much,” he assured me. “But you are known to engage in conversation.” He cocked a brow. “Is everything okay?”
I almost brushed it off, but a look at the time had me rethinking that idea. “Just some personal trouble, that’s all. A guy.”
“Hmmm.”
As we headed out of the surgical area, I glanced up at him. “Could I maybe ask a favor?”
“Of course.” He offered a faint smile. “I can’t promise to be able to help, but I will if I can.”
I glanced around, feeling foolish. Still, my determination not to deal with Cormac was just a little stronger, and it won out. “I’m…ah…well, I need some space from this guy I’ve been seeing, and I’ve got a feeling he’ll be waiting for me when I head out in a few minutes.”
Moyes’s brows crept up. “Would you like me to escort you to your car?”
“Please.” My face grew warm, and I could only imagine how pink it had gotten. “I figured if we were talking about a patient or something…”
He chuckled. “It’s not a problem. I need to give my report to the doctor coming on shift, then let the desk know I’m on my way out and change. I assume you’re doing the same?”
I nodded, relief rushing through me.
We both stopped by the main desk in the ED and updated our evening counterparts, although there wasn’t much to be done there—they’d come on shift while we were in surgery and already had everything under control. Moyes had left for the men’s locker facilities by the time I finished at the desk, so I hurried out of the ED. I didn’t want to keep him waiting.
I was really going to feel silly if Cormac wasn’t out there, but I was willing to suffer that small indignity if it would save me from having to face him before I was ready.
And I so, so wasn’t ready.
I found Moyes chatting with one of the nurses, and he nodded at me as he wrapped up his conversation. “Dr. Downing and I have a matter we need to discuss. I’ll see you around, Farrah,” he said, smiling at her.
As we headed outside, a cold gust of wind swept in through the sliding glass doors. Hitching the strap of my bag higher up on my shoulder, I shivered and started to button up my coat. “Looks like winter is finally moving in on us,” I said with a glare up at the leaden gray skies.
“Smells like it might snow,” Moyes said, his gaze also on the sky.
I laughed. “My mom always used to say that. My dad would tease her. ‘What’s that mean, love, smelling like it might snow?’” I mimicked his Irish lilt.
Moyes laughed as well. “Sounds like the talks between my parents. Only it was my dad saying it and Mama teasing him. He was a country boy, and she grew up in the city.”
“And where did you grow up?”
“A little bit of both.” He shrugged, his gaze sliding around the parking lot. “Up until I was ten, I lived maybe thirty miles south of Indianapolis. Dad had a farm. Mama was a nurse. Then he had a heart attack, and Mama thought it would be easier to take care of us if she sold the farm and we moved down to Birmingham where her folks were.”
“From farm boy to city boy. That must have been a change.” I eyed the parking lot warily. We were getting closer to the physician parking lot. So far, I hadn’t seen Cormac, but I hadn’t found a decent spot for my car anywhere remotely close, so I was wedged in at the very back. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks. It’s been a long time. Crazy, though. I still found myself looking for him when I graduated college…and medical school.”
I smiled in sad understanding. “I did the same thing. My mom was killed in a car wreck years ago. Even though I know she’s gone, part of me still looks for her.”
“It’s how we cope with grief, I suppose.”
“You’re probably right.” I gestured to the next row. “I’m at the end up here.”
Four
Cormac
I’d given up telling myself not to worry.
It was a waste of time because all I could do was worry, and every minute that passed without Briar responding to my texts made that ugly fear settle its hooks in deeper and deeper.
After I left her place, I went to the tattoo shop and packed up what little I’d brought from Miami. None of it had any significant value to me, but I wasn’t about to leave it there for that asshole Jerrel to toss out either.
I’d fit it all into a single duffel bag and tossed it into the battered old Camry. It was a damn good thing I’d picked that car up when I had, because I definitely wouldn’t be able to use Jerrel’s van. Public transportation wasn’t exactly the most convenient option in the world either.
Plus, as I sat in the car, eying the time and waiting for Briar, having the car meant I could at least be out of the wind.
It was edging up on five o’clock, and she was still inside the emergency department. She’d had late days before, so I wasn’t too concerned about it, but I sure as hell
wished she’d appear already.
This not seeing her thing was for the fucking birds.
I checked my phone one more time, even though it had only been ten minutes since I’d last looked, hoping I’d somehow missed the arrival of a text.
There was nothing, just as I’d known there’d be.
I scrolled through each of the texts, studying each word, each sentence to make sure I hadn’t given anything away. I didn’t want her realizing I’d seen her talking to Jerrel. I wanted her to ask me about it so I could get a read on what she thought, although the complete and utter lack of communication from her already had me uneasy.
“Could be nothing, mate,” I told myself. “She’s had busy days before, after all.” My eyes drifted to the time on my phone as if I needed more evidence that she was very likely having a very busy day. If she’d caught one of the crazy cases she liked to talk about, she could spend four or five hours in surgery easy, right?
Dropping the phone back into the cup holder, I dropped my head onto the padded rest and closed my eyes.
Maybe she wouldn’t believe Jerrel. I mean, if he came up to me and started spinning a tale for me, I wouldn’t believe him. He wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy sort, after all.
“Shit,” I muttered. Opening my eyes, I stared hard at my reflection. “And you think you are, MacTavish?”
I’d been lying to Briar from the start. They were lies of omission, for certain, but lies, all the same. Lying to her, using her. I wasn’t any more trustworthy than Jerrel Waddell was.
Just as I was starting to think about my many, many character flaws, I glanced down the pavement and caught sight of two figures. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized Briar. I’d recognize her anywhere. She had a smile on her face, and she was looking up at the person next to her.
