Prince chuckled, taking another drag off his cigarette before putting it out on the pavement and crushing it under his boot. He swung over his bike and started the engine. I stood by my ride but suddenly didn’t feel like riding. I wanted to walk around a bit—my leg was killing me, and a walk to stretch it out sounded like a good idea.
“Be careful,” Prince said simply. “I hope you know what you’re about.”
I nodded silently. I caught the double meaning—Prince knew I was getting ready to wring his father like a goose. Hell, it was only a matter of who got to him first at this point. Prince backed up into the traffic of the Strip, disappearing in the crowd. I heard his bike down the road, and as it faded, I finally dismounted.
Phoenix, this weekend huh?I thought. It was only Monday. I had time to plan and organize. I took a walk down the Strip, trying my best to blend in with the crowd. The good thing about Vegas was that a bunch of burly bikers didn’t raise suspicion. There were far bigger fish to fry.
The heat was beating down on me, and it wasn’t even close to the peak for the day. It wouldn’t be too hard to construct something to appease him for the time being, although I didn’t think he would be so aggressive about it this soon. I definitely needed to have something by next week. As much as I wanted King dead, I had to continue living to make that happen. And if the meeting today was any indication, the balance of his mental state was fragile.
As I slowly got lost in the planning of things, there was glint in the sunlight. The blond hair of a woman caught my eye and shook me out of my thoughts. A couple, and as we passed each other, I heard the jingle of her laugh. They were holding hands as they walked, completely in their own little world.
How can they be so happy?I thought.
This world—this city—was all glamour on the outside. But on the inside, it was dark and grimy and gross. Full of people who are out for themselves, and those that kill innocent people. And if they knew about the underbelly of it all, they wouldn’t be so chipper. And I was a little bitter and perhaps envious at seeing people so naïve.
Happiness was not something I ever thought I was capable of having. I was orphaned at a young age, and I grew up on the streets. And at seventeen, joining a club had its own demons. I was nineteen when I first killed someone, and it wasn’t the last time either. After King saw the potential in me, it was all downhill. After all the grime, murder, and shit that I had seen and done, happiness was not an option.
If I had someone like Brianna…
The thought of the hot doctor had me stopped dead in my tracks. Something about her had all the bells and whistles of my brain saying that she wasmy woman. Her wit had me hooked, but it was her eyes that had me falling in deep. And hard. She was special to me, and I couldn’t put my finger on why the sudden rush of emotions. Fairytales were for chumps.
I had managed to get through the meeting without thinking of her, but now that I was out and about, she was back. And I didn’t understand why. She was just doing her job, and I was doing mine…well, sort of. But bringing a relationship—no, just a fuck—into this was idiotic. And not to mention, there was just too much on the line at the moment.
My brain was nagging me that there was something more to Doctor Brianna Gold than meets the eye. And damn if I wasn’t just a little intrigued to at least try to figure it out. But it wasn’t going to happen, and with the timeline of events for my freedom from King had just been expedited, to say the least, I simply wasn’t going to have time to juggle another person. Besides, the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim.
Unless, of course…there was a medical emergency. And that could easily be arranged.
Brianna
Usually, when I get called into the other job, it’s once or twice a month. They have a lot of doctors, which is why it takes so long to get out from King. I was the only surgeon, and the number of real surgeries needed was low. I contemplated opening my availability up to work on the minor stuff, too, just to get out faster.His new deal expedited the process for me, though, I thought.
But when I got called in again for a surgery within twenty-four hours, I was on high alert. If the Black Reapers were really doing this, if there was such a threat, why wasn’t King doing anything about it? There was something about King that always made me queasy: he was never scared to lose men. Human life for him was something that was expendable.
I have my suspicions, King’s words echoed in my head as I pulled up to the warehouse in Chinatown. It was my day off from the hospital, and I was hoping to sleep all day. Guess King had other plans for me. Or the universal powers that be. After getting off the phone with none other than Crush himself, I got dressed in scrub pants and a tank top. I stood there for a second, debating on if I should put the scrub top on.
Crush totally was staring at my chest last night, I remembered. And I didn’t mind it at all. I looked at my phone—it was over a hundred degrees, and the sun had just gone down.It’s too hot to wear the top, I thought with a grin. Crush was pretty high up there in terms of men, and his protection could be the ticket out. At least, a back-up plan if King’s little deal was just the old man being paranoid.
I was met at the door of the large warehouse in Chinatown. It was the same guy from last night that had confronted me at my car, and the eerie yellow glow of the light by the door made him look even more menacing. His eyes flashed to my chest, and I had to admit that King’s little plan about my bedside manner would be a cakewalk if I actually wanted to commit to the bit more. He grunted a greeting and opened the large steel door. It was well lit like last night, some guys playing poker at a table in the corner.
It felt eerily similar, but I was too tired to care. I took in the usual sights of wooden crates and men lounging around. There was a whole wing dedicated to club bunnies and their “guests,” but that had been shut down after the bust. It was properly named the Red Light Wing of the warehouse, and I was glad there was an M.D. behind my name. This may be hell, but that was worse.
I was escorted to a larger room than Crush’s last night. It looked like a supply room of sorts, with packed shelves full of random things: guns, boxes of ammo, toilet paper, leather vests, condoms, pregnancy tests, a bag of cocaine, et cetera. There was a guy lying on a steel table that was at the center of the room, and he was covered in blood. He couldn’t have been much more than twenty, with nothing more than a patchy beard on his chin. His dark black hair was damp with sweat. Blood was everywhere on the table, and it was bright red. This was serious—more serious than a gunshot to the leg.
I got closer to him, cautious. His head turned to me as I approached, and he mumbled something. I couldn’t tell what it was. I saw the nature of his injuries as I got right next to him at the side of the table. He’d been stabbed, deep, at least twice. Once in the leg, and another near his stomach. I looked around to see an empty room. It was just me and the dying cadet.
“I need supplies,” I called out, but no one answered.
I got to work, tearing the t-shirt he wore in two. He mumbled another incoherent sentence as I kept tearing the shirt. As the cloth fell away, I noticed a third stab wound on his side. I examined the other two closer,Definitely not fatal, but would be if he lost too much blood. I whipped around to the door, ready to call out again when I saw Crush was there, leaning on the doorframe.
“Need something, sweetheart?” he smirked.
He has a sexy smirk, I thought. He was dressed in black jeans and heavy boots, a plain black shirt on his torso. It was tight, and I could see all the muscles as he moved. He walked in, his eyes drinking me in. In felt nice to be checked out by someone who was not…well, just not my everyday encounters in Vegas.
“Gloves, two bowls of water, suture kits. Bandages, lots of ‘em. And I need rags,” I directed, trying to keep my aura of professionalism. “He should live; these injuries aren’t fatal. But he has a high chance of bleeding out. Move quickly!”
Crush nodded and sent some other club member to fetch supplies. I tore the shirt into strips, wrapping one quickly around the guy’s thigh to help stop the blood flow. I felt the pulse at his neck, and it was average. But the adrenaline would wear off soon. Sweat was breaking across his brow, and he was definitely in pain.
He’s totally going to pass out, I thought.
