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“I gave him some whiskey for the pain, doc,” a voice says from behind me. I notice there’s another man with a bloodstained shirt in the corner of the room. “Sorry, nurse,” he quickly corrects himself.
“Here you go, doc,” Maximo says with a grin as he hands me a pair of metal forceps.
I open my mouth to remind him that I’m not a doctor, but he says, “Nurse just doesn’t have the same ring to it. It’s like a term of affection rather than a title.”
“Or we could call you Nurse Ratched.” Mitch laughs and then groans with the pain of his effort, his face turning purple.
“How about you just stay still and let me find this bullet, huh?” I say to him.
“Whatever you say, doc.”
“Can you get me some morphine for the pain, Maximo?” I ask my new assistant.
“No. Don’t want none,” Mitch insists. “Just get it out and stitch me up.”
“But it would be easier for you if I just give you a quick shot.”
“I fucking hate needles.”
I roll my eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”
“Okay,” he grunts.
“Are you hurt?” I look at the guy in the corner with the crimson stains all over his shirt.
“No, doc. It’s all Mitch’s blood.”
“And I want it all back too, Bud. Every last drop,” Mitch hisses as I slide the forceps into the hole in his shoulder.
“You’re a mean old bastard.” Bud laughs loudly, and even Maximo chuckles beside me. Then both of them go on teasing Mitch good-naturedly while I remove the bullet from his shoulder. Working keeps me focused, so that I’m almost too busy to worry about where Dante is and why one of his men was shot tonight.
I’m just finishing patchingMitch up while he’s drinking a glass of whiskey by the time Dante returns. He walks into the room wearing just his suit pants and one of his crisp white shirts, except that it’s no longer white but a deep crimson color. He also has a small cut above his eye.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, my voice a little higher than normal as my heart starts to race a little faster.
“I’m fine, kitten,” he says with a smug smile. “None of it belongs to me. I do need something for this though,” he says, pointing to his eye as he blinks away a trickle of blood.
“There’s some alcohol in the cabinet and some plaster strips. I can take a look at it if you give me a few minutes.”
“I can take care of it,” he says dismissively as he goes to the cabinet.
He dabs his eye with some alcohol-soaked cotton wool without as much as a flicker of discomfort. Then he disappears out of the room again without another word. By the time he returns, Maximo and Bud are helping a fully sewn up and pretty wasted Mitch out of the room.
“I’ll take these guys home,” Maximo says to Dante, who nods his appreciation.
And then there is just the two of us in the room. Dante has stripped off his blood soaked clothes and stands a few feet away from me in just his tight black boxer shorts. My eyes are drawn like a magnet to the outline of his cock.
“You enjoying yourself, kitten?” he asks with a dark chuckle, making my cheeks flame with heat.
I avert my gaze a little too quickly, making it even more obvious that I was just staring at him.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. If you were standing here in only your underwear, I’d be staring at you too.”
“I wasn’t… I’m sorry,” I say with a shake of my head. I need out of here.
He crosses the room and stands right in front of me. A solid wall of muscle, ink, and sex. It’s as though he has some kind of magnetic field around him. His presence is inescapable. Once I’m in his orbit, I can’t seem to think straight. I act like somebody I don’t even recognize. My pussy develops a mind of her own. He is so full of potent, raw sexuality and masculinity. Everything about him screams run away, but my body is drawn to him anyway.
“Who am I kidding,” he says, his voice low and deep, as he bends his head and brings his mouth closer to my ear. “I stare at you no matter what you’re wearing.”
