Instead of heading back to the clubhouse, I circle the block and kill my headlight before coasting to a stop in an area under the cover of an oak tree.So I can watch Xavier from the shadows.
Xavier slides into the driver’s seat, and I count to thirty before kickstarting my bike.I keep a careful distance as I follow his taillights through the quiet streets.This route is familiar as I’ve traced it so many times I could do it blindfolded.Three miles from the bar, left at the intersection with the broken streetlight, right at the gas station that never seems to close.
Xavier’s apartment complex comes into view, a modest two-story building with decent security.Better than where he used to live, at least.I helped make sure of that after the break-in last year, though he never knew it was me who sent the anonymous tip about the better-priced unit.
I pull over half a block away, cutting the engine and watching as Xavier parks in his usual spot.The security light catches on the dried blood at the corner of Xavier’s mouth, and something possessive and angry flares in my chest.
Should’ve hit those bastards harder.
Xavier disappears inside, and a minute later, lights flicker on in his second-floor apartment.I settle in to wait.This is the routine.I don’t leave until I see his bedroom light go out.Sometimes it takes hours if he’s working on medical journals or studying for some certification.Tonight, though, the living room lights dim after just twenty minutes.
I’m about to start my bike when movement near the complex entrance catches my eye.A dark sedan with tinted windows pulls in, moving slowly through the parking lot.It stops two spaces away from Xavier’s car.
My body goes rigid, every instinct screaming danger.I swing off my bike, keeping to the shadows as I move closer.The sedan’s engine cuts off, but no one exits.They just sit there, dark and waiting, like a predator.
Three minutes pass before the driver’s door finally opens.The hospital administrator steps out, looking nervously around the parking lot.There’s a slight tremor in his movements that gives me satisfaction.Good.He should be scared.
But not scared enough, apparently, if he’s stupid enough to show up at Xavier’s home.
The administrator pulls something from his jacket which looks like a manila envelope and heads toward the building entrance.I move faster, cutting across the landscaping to intercept him before he can reach the door.
He doesn’t see me until I’m right behind him.His gasp when I grab his shoulder is high and startled, the envelope falling from his hands.
“I thought I made myself clear earlier,” I say, voice deadly quiet as I spin him around to face me.
The blood drains from his face.“You.”
“Me,” I confirm, backing him against the brick wall beside the entrance.“Now, what part of ‘stay away from Xavier’ did you not understand?”
His eyes dart frantically around the empty parking lot.“I just need to give him these documents.The lawsuit…”
“Give them to me.”
“I can’t do that.They’re confidential hospital records.”
I press my forearm against his throat, just enough to make breathing difficult.“Let me rephrase.You’re going to give me those documents, then you’re going to get back in your overpriced car, and you’re never going to contact Xavier again.If the hospital has something to say to him, they can say it during his shifts.”
The administrator’s eyes bulge slightly.“The board chairman wants this handled discreetly.Off hospital property.”
“Tough shit.”
I ease up enough to let him speak further.He coughs, hand going to his throat.“Who are you to him?What gives you the right to interfere?”
The question shocks me.Who am I to Xavier?
Protector?Stalker?Something else entirely after tonight?
“I’m someone who ensures he sleeps safely at night,” I finally say, bending to retrieve the fallen envelope.“Someone who deals with problems before they reach his door.”
The administrator stares at me, realization dawning in his eyes.“You’re with that motorcycle gang.The Devil Souls.”
“Club,” I correct automatically.“And yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.“Is he involved with?—”
“Careful,” I warn, voice dropping.“The next words out of your mouth might determine whether you walk or crawl back to your car.”
He swallows hard.“The hospital can’t ignore this lawsuit.The family is powerful.Connected.They’re demanding someone take responsibility.”
