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She and Janine walked out of the break area and started gathering the medications their patients took on a daily basis.
As she worked, she focused on the task. Messing up and giving the wrong medication to the wrong person could spell disaster. Even though this was far from her dream job, she was conscientious about her work. She came every day. She gave her all to keep people healthy and comfortable.
She was distracted too, and not just from the memories of Jennings’s mouth trailing over her breasts to her belly and making his slow path downward between her thighs. She had a hell of a lot to worry about, like pretending to be the girlfriend of a Disciple. Just being seen with a man wearing that patch on his leather cut invited a level of danger that she didn’t want anything to do with.
After double-checking on every medication and patient it would be administered to, her mind freed up enough space to consider Janine’s question.Wasthe sex that good? Or was her friend right and she only thought so because it had been so long?
The multiple orgasms Jennings gave her said oh hell yeah, it wasthatgood.
Her insides knotted at the memory.
As she pushed the cart of supplies from room to room, again checking the patient’s ID against the medication received, thoughts of being in Jennings’s bed again threatened to intrude. She kept pushing them down over and over until the very last cupful of pills was set before the final patient on her rounds.
“Your stomach medication, Mr. Mario.” She put some brightness into her tone and earned a rare smile from the older man suffering from dementia.
He brought the small cup to his lips and tipped the pill into his mouth.
“And your water to wash it down with.” She held out a cup with a straw.
After he’d taken a sip and leaned back against his pillows again, Wren pushed her cart out of the room. One of the other nurses intercepted her.
“There’s a call from Mr. Mario’s family. His sister calling for her weekly check on her brother.”
“Oh, sure thing. I’ll take the call now.”
Wren dropped off the cart and went to the phone behind the nurse’s desk. She took a lot of these types of calls from concerned family asking about health updates or even checking to see if a package arrived for their loved one. She had enough med school under her belt to know much more than an ordinary LPN or even an RN. While she had yet to interact with real patients on that level, this job had taught her a ton about relations with patients and their families.
She spent about twenty minutes talking to his sister about Mr. Mario’s health and habits. Assuring her that the man wasn’t just stuck in bed staring at the four walls of his private room eased her mind, but conveying that he often went to group activities in the home was more of an indicator that his morale was good.
Once the call ended, Wren experienced one of the highs of the job. This stuff made it all worthwhile.
She started down the hall to check on some patients who liked sitting in front of a big picture window overlooking a garden. Birds flitted around the trees and shrubbery, much to everyone’s delight.
As she started around a corner, a deep voice caught her attention.
She froze in her tracks. Thatvoice.
Icy fear washed over her. Goose bumps rippled up and down her spine and broke out all over her arms.
She knew that voice.
All of a sudden, she was back in the church, and the man who brought her there was speaking to a man on the phone. The man she heard right now was the same guy who’d told off Viper.
Her heart thundered, pounding against her ribs. She could barely catch her breath. A wave of dizziness almost bowled her over, but she grabbed on to the doorframe to hold herself upright.
She had to see who was talking.
Could she peek around the corner?
Her fingertips dug into the frame. She couldn’t do it. She was too scared.
Her spine steeled. No—she was strong. She’d buried her parents and guided her brother through a lot, including finding him a place in rehab. Those things were far from small.
She darted her head out and stole a peek at the hallway. In a single glance, she took in every detail of the man talking to one of their housekeeping staff.
She ducked behind the doorframe again, imprinting the man’s appearance in her brain.
Tall. Slender. Sporting a trim mustache. Dark brown hair. His forehead sloped back to a receding hairline, and his clothes were nice.
