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Colton dialed Slate’s number, waiting for him to answer. He wondered what Slate was like—serious like Steel or more fun loving.
“Hello,” a voice similar to Steel’s said.
“Hi, is this Slate?” Colton asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Jackson’s brother, Colton.”
“Oh wow, am I happy to hear from you,” Slate said. “Has Steel told you what I want?”
“Yes, he did, and I’ll be happy to help. Can you tell me what this is all about? I know very little.”
“That sounds like my brother,” Slate chuckled. “I’m working with the Mexican Wolf shifters who are being attacked. The injuries aren’t fatal, but some are very serious. Especially if the victims are fighting back.”
“Who’s the attacker?” Colton wondered if it could be another paranormal species.
“We don’t know yet, but it’s another wolf shifter. The real problem is that the medical personnel are working in primitive conditions. Some shifters have already died because they couldn’t get treatment in time.”
“Why would shifters need treatment for wounds that aren’t life-threatening?” Colton asked. What Slate was saying just didn’t make sense. If a shifter got a non-fatal wound, shifting would take care of the healing.
“The attacker’s claws seem to be silver.”
Oh shit. Nothing is worse for a shifter—except maybe wolfsbane—than to be cut with anything that contains silver. “How can the wolf shifter have silver claws? Why isn’t he affected?” Colton asked.
“We’re still trying to figure that out. In the meantime, I need a clinic and hospital set up ASAP.”
“Do you have a building that can serve as the clinic and hospital?”
“Yes. I have workmen renovating it to bring it up to code. It’s gutted, and the interior walls must be replaced but I haven’t found anyone to do that yet.”
“Okay. I can help you with a floorplan and equipment list. I need blueprints first and I’ll have to talk to the doctors, just so I have a starting point for what they need.”
“Give me your email and I’ll send them your contact information. The faster we can get it set up, the less these shifters will suffer.”
“I’ll get on it right away. Oh, by the way, thanks for the opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
“No thanks needed. You are doing me a huge favor by helping me with this.”
Colton chuckled. “Well then, the thanks are mutual. I look forward to working with you.”
After hanging up, Colton sat back in his chair. This was exactly his life’s goal—helping people who needed medical care in remote parts of the world. He wished he could go down there to help but knew Jackson would never allow it. He slammed his fist down on the desk.Damn his uncle, damn the Silver Point Pack, damn their greediness. Colton realized some time ago his uncle had to die for the brothers to be free. He just didn’t like the thought of it happening. Right now, his pack was in prison—a beautiful one with 200,000 acres—but a prison just the same.
A ding came from his laptop—the email from Slate. Opening it, he saw the name of the primary care doctor in Mexico along with his phone number and email address. The attachment contained the blueprints for the clinic and hospital. Colton printed out several copies. Spreading them on his desk, he studied them and started making notes. Luckily, one of the courses he completed before being forced to abandon his education was ‘Design for Medical Facilities’ so he had some basic knowledge of what was needed.
He was impressed with what Slate had done so far. New electric, plumbing, fire suppression system, and removal of all contaminated building materials. He could see they were just about ready for walls to go in. He started drawing. He would get his initial thoughts down on paper before talking to the doctor. Consulting his books, Colton drew numerous variations. This hospital and clinic would have to serve the shifters long after the current crisis was resolved.
He had space for two operating rooms, an ICU that would serve newborn pups and adults, ten hospital rooms and awaiting room. On the clinic side, exam rooms, outpatient care plus an emergency room and waiting area. What a sweet gem this place will be.As he was drafting room dimensions, his phone rang.
Without looking to see who it was, he answered. “Hello.”
“Colton?”
Oh shit.It was the voice that ruled his cock. Yup, there it was—a hard-as-fuck cock. Readjusting it, Colton answered, “Dr. Wallace, how are you?”
“Ian, please. I’m calling about your latest report.”
