“See, I could be doing that, but I’m here in a Coleman camping chair, drinking a coffee that certainly isn’t decaf, watching your Italian princess.”
“You’ll call me if she leaves?”
“What are you going to do, mate? She’ll probably run away thinking you’re trying to take her back to her brother.”
“She’s going to hate me,” he groans.
“Aye,” I agree.
“Fuck off.”
“I would, but a tall blonde wearing a Knights hat and massive fucking sunglasses just walked out of the High Roller.”
I hang up before the lovesick idiot can reply. I snap my fingers at the man who calls himself Gus and pull a hundred out of my wallet.
“Watch my shit,” I demand, holding out the crisp bill. He sits his dirty ass in my camping chair as I follow the Omega, who’s trying to go undetected.
She looks nervous, and it’s hard to keep up with her among the throngs of people walking down the strip. I keep a close eye on her, following her to… the pharmacy?
She waits in line, and I nonchalantly browse the condom aisle as I listen to her conversation. Her birthday is October twenty-ninth, and she is attempting to pick up her suppressants.
“Your insurance was kicked back, I’m sorry, Miss Amante,” the pharmacist says, and Elena shuffles around, uncomfortable about her last name being said so loud. Talk about a fucking HIPAA violation.
“What about out of pocket?”
“It will be eight hundred dollars and forty-eight cents without insurance.”
“Seriously? Okay, fine. I’ll pay out of pocket.”
“We can have it in stock in four days.”
“Four days? But I’m out,” Elena squeaks. The pharmacist looks her up and down, showing no sympathy.
The poor thing, her brother is a moron for canceling her insurance. He could have seen where she filled her prescription and found her that way. Just another tick in the box that the man doesn’t hold a candle to his father.
“There’s a shortage.”
“How can there be a shortage? Is there a suppressant farm somewhere drying up? I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t,” the pharmacist snarks.
Elena clenches the counter, looking like she’s about to jump over and beat the woman’s arse. I smile to myself, liking that sheisn’t the docile little creature Lorcán or Cillian made her out to be. She has some fight in her, that’s good.
She’s frustrated, and I don’t know why I can’t help myself. I walk up to her and toss an arm around her shoulder. Her body goes still immediately, and she looks over at me.
“Ah, there you are, love. Do we have a problem?”
“No, next in line,” the pharmacist dismisses. I give her a smile and lead Elena down the tampon aisle.
“Who are you?” she whispers. Ah, not so tough after all. Yet, I find myself not wanting her to be afraid of me.
“Someone who can help you with your little problem.”
I remove my arm from her shoulder, and she sighs in relief before wrapping her arms around herself.
“What are you, a drug dealer or something? I’m not buying suppressants off the street,” she warns. There’s that sassy Italian princess Lorcán can’t shut the fuck up about.
“No, but I have a connection. What brand do you need?”
