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The sleek black car follows me from the highway all the way to St Peter’s. Lacey sees it first—I’m literally having to take her to work with me, which is all kinds of fucked—and points it out as I drive. It doesn’t pull into the parking lot behind me, but draws up on the curb outside the coffee shop across from the hospital, the engine cutting as we get out of the Volvo and make our way to the entrance. The generic-looking dark vehicle has blacked-out windows so it’s impossible to see inside, although Lacey seems to have a good idea who it is.
“That’s one of Charlie’s boys for sure,” she announces. She’s way more nonchalant over this tail than I am; I’m on the verge of bolting inside the hospital and hiding in a cleaning closet or something. “Bet they’re there when we leave,” she adds.
“If they’re there when we leave, I’m calling the cops.”
She snorts. “Good luck with that.”
“What do you mean?”
Pulling one shoulder up to the side, she looks at me like I’m stupid, eyes rolling. “The cops are all in someone’s pocket. Mostly Charlie’s. They probably wouldn’t even show up, let alone do anything about it.”
Well there’s a worrying piece of news. It feels like I’ve been sucked into a 1950s gangster movie, except this is real. And not being able to call the cops? Just great. Seriously. Just great.
I deposit Lacey in an on-call room. I’m already nearly late for my own rounds, so I don’t have time to baby her when I leave.
“Don’t step one foot out of this room, okay,” I command. “There are plenty of people who’ll recognize you and that’s the last thing I need. Zeth’ll murder me if you get sectioned while I’m here at work.” Fucking Zeth. The guy has done nothing but cause me problems, really. If he hadn’t killed Eli, then I might have gotten the information I was after, and Alexis would already be back home, safe and sound, heading to church with Mom and Dad every weekend. Playing the piano to accompany the choir and the singing parishioners. I try to hold on to my anger a moment, but it fizzles out like an extinguished firework when my mind veers from its wrath and decides to remember other things instead. Like his painfully big cock teasing me as he readied to push inside me. His deep brown eyes watching my expression closely as he sank himself as deep as he could, groaning under his breath.
Shit.
Lacey sits on the bed looking moderately anxious as I hurry off to get into my scrubs before nearly late transforms into actually late. Everyone thinks the interns are under the most pressure to perform, but that’s not entirely true. It’s just as easy to get booted from the residency program if you’re behind in your work. And being tardy is kind of frowned upon, too. As is bringing a twenty-six-year-old woman who needs constant babysitting to work with you.
I make it through rounds, on time thankfully, and I see the patients who have been admitted on my day off. Punctured lung, congenital heart defect, septicemia. Everything is relatively serious today. Serious enough that I have to spend a considerable amount of time with each patient, assessing their progress and filling out the necessary paperwork for their records and meds. It’s midday by the time I finally get the chance to lock myself in the bathroom and text Zeth.
Your friends followed me to work this morning.
A minute passes before the phone chimes in my hand.
Zeth: What happened?
Rcv’d 12:48 pm
Me: Nothing. They just followed us. Parked out front. What do you mean, what happened? Is something going to happen?
Zeth: Doubtful.
Rcv’d 12:51
And then…
Zeth: You okay?
Rcv’d 12:51
I should tell him the truth: no, I’m not okay! But that wouldn’t serve any real purpose. Plus for some reason I don’t want to look weak in front of him. If I admit to being frightened of his thug business colleagues, then it feels the same as admitting I’m frightened of him. And no way am I admitting that. He knows I am, but I’ll never own up to it. I’m in the middle of typing a long, strongly worded text back to him when the phone starts ringing in my hand. I pick up, frowning.
“What?!”
“You didn’t reply. When someone asks you if you’re okay after telling them you’re being watched, it’s usually a good idea to confirm you’re still alive,” he reprimands me in his deep, gravel-filled voice.
“I was replying to—urgh!” I don’t even bother. “What can you do about these guys eating donuts outside the hospital?”
“Nothing.” His voice is flat and unconcerned.
“What? They’re your boss’s men, right? Don’t you get along with any of these guys?”
That makes him laugh—a rumble that teases its way into my ear and makes me shiver. “We all tend to keep out of each other’s way. Charlie prefers it like that.”
“Well what am I supposed to do if they follow me home when I’m done here?” I ask. The thought of going home and sitting in that big house on the hill with only Lacey for protection isn’t exactly a reassuring one.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he tells me. “I got boys looking after you. Besides, they’re just watching. And if one of them breaks into your house, just stab them.”
Just stab them? My mouth falls open. “I don’t go around stabbing people!”
“Got a gun?”
“No!”
