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"Mr. Mancini knows that in order to do the exam, I would have to touch Mrs. Mancini's vaginal area. Even if she did not have an IUD he is unaware of," Dr. Hewitt further explains to Lara, completely disregarding my words.
He thinks Raff will approve of his actions. He may be right.
But I am livid. "I should have shotyou."
"Perhaps psychiatric treatment is in order," Dr. Hewitt says, still speaking to Lara. "Tell Mr. Mancini I can refer him to someone discreet."
I shift my gun and pull the trigger. The bullet whizzes past the doctor's head and hits the wall behind him. Dr. Hewitt scream is just as high pitched as Lynne's. He's not so sanguine when the gun is pointed at him.
"Shut up," I demand with a fierce glare. "Or the next bullet goes right through your mouth."
Dr. Hewitt blanches and shuts his mouth tight. Good. A puddle of urine pools around Lynne's feet. That shouldn't make me as happy as it does.
Lara sighs. "I knew the boss should have talked to you about this before making the appointment."
"You think?" I put my gun down at the end of the exam table closest to me and rip the exam gown off.
"What are you doing?" Lara demands, showing her first sign of shock.
"Getting dressed."
"You shouldn't be doing that with everyone in the room."
"Really?" I roll my eyes. "My husband was going to let that man feel up my coochie. I don't think him, or his staff, seeing me in my bra and underwear is a problem."
I pull my dress on and do the zip with an angry jerk, and then put on my sweater. After smoothing my hair as best I can with my fingers, I grab my purse and my gun. "Let's go."
Not waiting for Lara, I sail out of the exam room. The lack of an audience outside is testament to the quality of sound proofing in the exam rooms. Which is not a comforting thought, honestly.
Now that I'm no longer in a room with people intent on sedating me, I tuck my gun back into my handbag.
Fertility clinic, my backside.
This place should be shut down. Trying to treat a patient without consent.
Thinking they can sedate me.
Assholes, every one of them. But the biggest one is my husband, the underboss.
Lara is right behind me by the time we get outside. "Our people will take care of this. The doctor and nurses know not to talk."
I get into the back of the car without a word to my bodyguard.
Lara isn't doing me any favors.
Dr. Hewitt and his medical staff are not going to talk because if they report my actions to the police, they will need to answer hard questions about why I felt threatened. Why they aren't HIPAA compliant.
Doing so and revealing such an egregious breach of my privacy could lose him his license and shut the clinic down.
There's no point in me filing a complaint though. Because, at the very least, my father-in-law will have it suppressed. That doesn't mean I'm okay with letting things stand.
But right now, Dr. Hewitt and his nurses aren't the ones I'm focused on. That would be my husband. The rat.
"Take me to the casino," I instruct the driver.
Although he has an oversight manager for the casino, Raff and his top lieutenants have their offices there.
"The boss is in a meeting right now. I will let him know you want to talk to him," Lara says.
