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“It depends on what you call okay,” he says in his one-too-many-cigarettes-a-day voice.
“I’m all ears if you want to vent.” I’ve known Phoenix is still on her private job with Slade, but she has been coming into work sporadically helping Mack out with the clients since January. I haven’t asked any questions, but she is obviously working nearby, but the details are still hush-hush. I’ve not worried about her since knowing Slade had requested her assistance on the private job back in late November. If any man was going to keep her safe, it was him.
Mack stays silent, rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale he’s withholding information, but I give him the silence he needs to determine if he wants to spill what is on his mind.
“Ophelia, it’s more a gut feeling. Slade just sent me a message, telling me to drop by his home tomorrow, and he’ll explain about a situation that has come up to do with the job he and Phoenix have been working. I requested more information because something didn’t feel right.
“Phoenix and Slade have been competing to get their messages to me first. Slade wants to meet me to talk, and Phoenix is telling me not to worry about anything, and she will see me on Monday. But I know Phoenix, and none of what I have fired at her will reward me with any direct answers, and Slade is acting just as shady with his responses. Plus, they are both saying the opposite. So, I smell something—”
His phone starts ringing.
Mack answers it when he sees who the caller is. “Slade, what’s going—” The man on the line silences him, and I’m left tugging my ponytail, watching his expression turning grimmer by the second.
I reach out and grasp the hand leaning on my desk, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze and try not to draw upon my worst-case scenario.
He tugs me up and into a bear hug when he gets off the phone.
“Spit it out, Mack. The suspense is killing me!”
“Phoenix got shot four days ago,” he says softly against my ear.
Now I know why he pulled me into his arms.
I can no longer feel my legs.
Worst-case scenario actualized.
Sixty-Four
POKING A WOUNDED BIRD
Tucker
After calling Doc, I busied myself making the two of them lunch while Slade dealt with his woman.
It just so happens Doc was close by, arriving fifteen minutes later. He was not surprised that Phoenix had tried to make a run for it.
Her desperate attempt at proving herself fit-and-raring-to-go will only land her more one-on-one time with Slade.
The guy will most likely be sleeping with one eye open. She’s lucky he doesn’t handcuff her to the bed to keep her flat on her back—and that’s not in a kinky way.
I don’t blame Slade for his protective actions around Phoenix; although he knows she can handle herself, a bullet still caught up with her, and that isn’t sitting well with him. He’s going to do everything in his power to keep her in his continual sight until he can deal with it, and Phoenix is fighting him all the way.
His memory is playing back, seeing her propped up on the floor, bleeding, and that visual is going to plague him for a very long time.
To be truthful, it threw me for a six, seeing Phoenix wounded. Still, I blanketed my emotions, deciding she needed cocky Tucker more than ever because I know she feels humiliated she took a bullet. It’s just the way Phoenix ticks. You can’t change this leopard’s spots.
Doc Fernando gives me some instructions before calling out his goodbye, muttering about Phoenix being a handful for Slade, and then he’s out the door. The doc doesn’t muck about with pleasantries. He’s officially retired, doing this as a favor for his daughter.
I make my way back up to the patient’s room with a tray filled with different sandwiches and a whiskey for Slade. The guy deserves it. And a special healthy drink for the patient.
Now, I’m not intentionally eavesdropping, but these two are having one of their loud moments translating to intense sexual frustration on so many levels. Therefore, I decide to hover in front of the partially open door and wait it out until I get my opening to barge on in.
Phoenix has gone quiet, and Slade is close on the other side of the door, making a quiet phone call. I can barely hear anything, but I can pick up enough words to know he has called Mack and told him Phoenix got shot.
And Phoenix heard too. “Oh, no, you didn’t!” Sweetness is getting herself all agitated again.
“Firebird, not only did you break your promise to me to stay in bed, but you were trying to do a runner, enlisting T—”
