“Seriously?”
Thane nodded. “If she gets deported, Doc says he’s moving their family to Mexico until they can sort things out.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Can you be on call for us? If any of the guys get hurt right now, I don’t want to bother him.”
“Absolutely.” I secretly loved stitching up the guys with my field kit. The rough, bloody work with Everclear for antiseptic and whiskey as pain medication made the sterile hospital feel like a picnic.
Hatchet sauntered down the stairs and joined us at the bar. He dropped onto a stool two seats down from me, leaving one open between us.
“How’re you feeling this morning?” he asked with his trademark smirk.
I grinned. “I feel fine. I didn’t havethatmuch to drink.”
Hatchet raised a brow. “I had to carry you upstairs.”
“You did?” I tilted my head as I tried to recall the fuzzy memories from the night before.
“Yeah. You swore at me the entire time. You called me a man whore.”
“Youarea man whore.”
He ignored the dig. “You seriously don’t have a hangover?”
I shrugged. “I feel fine.”
“Oh, to be young again,” Hatchet mused, stroking his beard. “Just wait until you hit thirty. Hangovers get worse. I promise.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that far from thirty. Just drink more water.”
“Trust me, doll,” Hatchet drawled. “There’s a big difference between being a baby like you and being in your thirties.”
I shook my head at his patronizing comment. “I’m four years away. I’m hardly a child.”
I scrolled through my phone as I sipped my Red Bull, half listening to Thane and Reaper update Hatchet on Doc’s mess. My message inbox was surprisingly empty.
My phone rang, the hospital’s name lighting up on the screen. “Hello?”
“I’m so sorry to do this to you on short notice,” Dr. Patel apologized. “Can you come in early this morning? There was a pileup on the Loop, and we need all hands on deck.”
I stood. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” I slipped the phone into my pocket and crunched the now-empty Red Bull can before tossing it in the recycling bin. “I’m off to go save lives,” I said, waving goodbye.
* * *
By the end of my shift, my nerves were fried after dealing with the catastrophic result of a semitruck mowing into a row of cars. Despite scrubbing the blood spatter from my arms and dumping my dirty scrubs, the reek of diesel and blood was tattooed in my nostrils. I stared at my tablet, rereading a note for the third time. My head throbbed, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a book and a Bellini.
“Merci.”
My body tensed at the sound of Luca’s voice. I flexed my jaw as I glanced to where he hovered at the door.
“No,” I growled. I slid past him, returning the tablet to the nurse’s station.
“You can’t keep avoiding me. You blocked my number.”
I scoffed. “I didn’t.”
“My messages show as undeliverable, and calls go straight to voicemail.”
