by Macy Blake
Diagnosis Wolf
Macy Blake
Copyright © 2020 by Macy Blake
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
More Macy!
About the Author
Also by Macy Blake
Author’s Note
Diagnosis Wolf was originally published in 2012 under a different name as part of an anthology. I have revised and edited that edition and decided to consolidate to a single pen name, so am releasing it as Macy. I hope you all enjoy Diagnosis Wolf as much as I enjoyed going back and experiencing it again.
Chapter One
Andrew screeched in terror when his phone suddenly rang and Vincent Pryce’s laugh began to play at the highest possible volume. The ringtone was set for Shari, the manager of the medical employment service he used to find work because one, she was pretty much evil in the best possible way, and two, the sound never failed to get his attention, unlike the bloops and beeps of normal ringtones. The phone had been unusually quiet for the past few weeks, right when he needed a job most. He raced for the coffee table and snatched his cell up before the chorus ended. “Hello?”
“Andrew, hello! I hoped to catch you today. I have a position you would be a great fit for.”
Thank goodness.
Another week without a job and he wouldn’t be able to pay rent this month. Andrew let out a sigh of relief. “Wonderful. What are the details?” Not that he could afford to be picky at this point, but he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors by appearing too desperate. They didn’t call her Shari the shark for nothing.
“It’s a great opportunity. Double your usual rates.”
Andrew groaned and collapsed onto his couch, sniffing blood in the water. “What’s the catch?”
“Well,” she hedged, drawing the word out to four or five syllables, “the patient’s father is somewhat difficult.”
“Father? How old is the patient?”
“Midtwenties.”
Twenty-five and the father still handled his health care? This could be a disaster waiting to happen.
“Okay, Shari. Lay it on me. What exactly is ‘somewhat difficult’?”
Shari groaned. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Apparently, no one has gotten past the front door yet. They asked for a female, but they turned away the last three I sent. I want to try sending you.”
It was Andrew’s turn to groan. “Shari, that’s crazy. What makes you think I’ll get through?”
“Hey, you’re my last hope, buddy. If they turn you away, I’m going to have to send them to another service.”
Andrew bit his lip and considered. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. He’d be no worse off than he was now if they turned him down. “Okay, what’s the address?”
An hour later, Andrew stood in front of one of the largest homes he’d ever seen. The massive front windows stretched up two and a half stories. Nothing but crisp white stucco and glass surrounded the giant panes of glass. Andrew looked down at his faded blue scrubs with a grimace. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t do anything about his appearance now, but Andrew had a feeling he understood why the other nurses hadn’t gotten past the front door.
He reflected on Shari’s description. Somewhat difficult. Right. If the perfection of this home were anything to go by, Andrew wouldn’t last an hour. But at least that would be an hour at double his usual rate. It never ceased to amaze him how much his standards for acceptable behavior had been lowered since he didn’t have the money to back him up. It was easy to walk away when you weren’t desperate.
With a deep breath for courage, he straightened his spine and rang the bell. Not a sound came from inside. No way could something at this impeccable house be out of order. Even the shrubbery bowed down to the perfection of its surroundings. Not a leaf out of place—they wouldn’t dare.
No one answered after a long minute. Andrew fought the compulsion to just turn around and get back in his car. Surely another position would open up soon enough and get him out of this messy financial hole he found himself in? He hated having to take a job based on the money alone. So what if they made him drive all the way out here and didn’t answer the door? Not like he had much of a choice, despite the fact that his potential employers appeared to be rude and inconsiderate of his time. The reality of his situation forced him to keep his feet planted on the front steps.
The problem with having a brother who looked enough like you to be your twin? He sometimes wrote checks with his mouth that his ass couldn’t cash. And he did them using your ID. Which meant that Andrew’s ass couldn’t cash them either. Now he had a mountain of debts and an on-again, off-again job that paid his living expenses and not much else. Andrew couldn’t remember if gambling was one of the seven deadly sins, but if it wasn’t, the vice certainly should be.
Andrew stood impatiently on the stoop, cursing his brother’s addiction and his own trusting heart that had allowed Danny access to his accounts. That heart of his would sink him yet. All he’d have had to do was call the bank or the cops and press charges. The debt would have disappeared, but Andrew hadn’t been able to send his brother to jail.
He pressed the doorbell again and thanked his lucky stars that the weather felt like cooperating. Not that fall in Arizona meant freezing weather, but with the sun shining, Andrew didn’t worry about his scrubs not being warm enough for brisk weather.
The door opened. Finally. The largest man in the world stood on the other side. Dressed in a black suit, he brushed the jacket aside far enough to let Andrew see the weapon holstered under his arm.
Shit balls. What the hell had he gotten himself into this time?
“You the nurse?” tall, dark, and scowly asked, his voice deep and a bit on the creepy side.
Unfortunately for him, Andrew watched a lot of horror movies. This guy had nothing on Vincent Price. “Yes,” Andrew answered with a brief smile of reassurance.
“You’re a guy.”
“Well, yes. I’m Andrew.”
“Whatever. You won’t be here long enough for me to bother learning your name.” With that, he turned and stalked through the foyer.
“Nice to meet you too,” Andrew groused under this breath. He stepped onto the white marble tiles, then bounced right back out to wipe his Croc-covered feet on the doormat. He stayed close to the door and hiked his scruffy black duffel further onto his shoulder. When a strand of his shaggy blond hair blew across his cheek, Andrew tucked it behind his ear. He probably should have made time for a quick trim, but that was something else that required cash, and he was currently tapped out.
“Get in here,” Scowly commanded from a doorway near the back of the huge entrance hall.
Andrew started to snap a salute and say “Yes, sir!” but thought he’d better not. He walked down the hall, the foam resin of his shoes squeaking with each step across the glistening floor. Andrew expected to meet whoever was in charge, but instead, he faced a large stairwell.
Scowly marched up the steps, his perfectly shined black dress shoes not making a sound.
Andrew followed him down another long white hall to the only room with a closed door.
Scowly opened the door a crack and stuck his head inside.
“The
nurse is here.” He pitched his voice very low, not quite a whisper with his deep bass. Andrew heard a whispered reply.
“Send her in.”
Scowly jerked his head and gestured for Andrew to enter the room.
Dark curtains shrouded the windows, and a hospital bed sat against a long, empty wall. The only light in the room came from a door at the opposite side of the room from the bed that was open just a crack.
Another Scowly wannabe sat in a chair by the window. Dressed in a similar dark suit, this guy also had the bulge of a hidden weapon under his coat. Andrew took all of that information in and processed it before he turned to look at the man on the bed.
The darkness of the room hid his features for the most part, but Andrew could see well enough to know his patient was a very sick man. His pale skin looked ashen, and his dark hair fell in messy, sweat-dampened waves against his forehead.
No other equipment surrounded the bed, only empty spaces where monitors and IV poles normally stood. Andrew didn’t see any charts around either.
“Where are his charts?” Andrew hissed at the presumed bodyguards.
“You don’t need them.”
Andrew bristled. No Scowly, gun or not, told him how to take care of his patients. “The hell I don’t. Get me his medical files.”
Ignoring his request, Scowly snorted and sat down in the chair.
“Fine, then. Nice knowing you.” Andrew turned and stormed back to the bedroom door.
He heard a menacing growl behind him, like that of a dog ready to attack. Andrew froze and glanced over his shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Scowly marched up behind Andrew and reached for his arm.
Andrew spun out of the way. “Don’t touch me, asshole. And I’m leaving. I can’t treat this guy if I don’t have his files. Since you won’t give them to me, you’ll need to find another nurse.” Andrew turned to leave again, and the growl sounded from behind him for the second time. “And someone needs to get control of that dog, wherever it is.”
Scowly number two huffed out a laugh.
“I’m out of here.” Andrew slipped into the hall. He froze when he noticed an older man at the top of the stairs. Elegantly dressed in a light linen suit, the man had perfectly styled white hair and the deep olive skin of someone with Spanish, or maybe Italian, roots. As Andrew grew closer, the man grew… shorter. For some reason, he’d appeared to be very tall, but he was actually only five foot five or so. He looked up to Andrew’s six foot height.
Something in the older man’s eyes made Andrew stop and wait. No doubt Scowlys One and Two worked for this guy. The man exuded power.
“I’m Alfonse DiMartino.” He held out his hand to Andrew.
“Andrew Hughes. If you’ll excuse me, I was just leaving.” He gave Alfonse’s hand a quick shake out of politeness and tried to scoot around him for the stairs.
“Andrew. Please wait. I’m not sure what the boys did this time, but I’d like to speak to you before you rush off.”
Andrew stopped and turned around. “I’ll give you ten minutes. I’m sorry to be abrupt with you, sir, but those jerks have crawled all over my nerves. And that damn dog keeps growling.”
“Oh, really.” Alfonse snapped his fingers, and the bodyguards shot through the door. “Monty? Jed? Care to explain why our new nurse is leaving before I’ve had a chance to speak with him? And while you’re at it, perhaps one of you would like to tell me why I shouldn’t put—oh, how did Andrew put it? Oh yes, the damn dog, out of its misery?”
Monty and Jed weren’t scowling now. In fact, the two appeared downright terrified. “Uh, sorry, sir. We were just…,” Jed started to explain, but couldn’t seem to decide what to say.
“Enough. Get out of my sight.”
They skedaddled so fast Andrew wondered just how much hold Alfonse had over them.
“My apologies, Andrew. If you would consider staying on, I’ll take care that nothing like that happens again.”
Andrew thought for a moment and considered the paycheck. He needed this job, and he had to admit that seeing the Lurch wannabes put in their place was a nice bonus. “I’ll stay, if I don’t have to deal with those two any more than necessary.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’d like to introduce you to my son.”
Andrew followed Alfonse back into the bedroom. The older man opened one of the curtains and allowed light to shine into the room. The patient had dark hair that curled over his ears. Alfonse smoothed a stray curl off of his son’s forehead and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“This is my Caleb. He’s been ill and needs some additional care for a while until I can make things right.”
“Make things right?” Andrew wasn’t sure what that meant, but the young man had clearly been ill for a while. From the looks of him, Andrew couldn’t be sure how much more time his father could take to make things right. Caleb’s skin, although the same rich tan as his father’s, also held a pallid gray tone that indicated a severe amount of pain. Andrew’s fingers twitched to check his pulse, but he stayed back.
“Caleb’s condition is more than just a medical one. I’m afraid it’s difficult to explain, but he needs more assistance than my guards can provide. They resent that fact, unfortunately. Because of my business, I require protection. Needless to say, my guards don’t like strangers in the house.”
“Look, Mr.… uh, Alfonse. I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job. I mean, you can have me checked out or whatever, but I can’t in good conscience agree to take care of your son when I don’t even know what’s wrong with him.”
Alfonse turned to Andrew and smiled. “How about we make a deal? You work with us for three days. If at the end of that time you believe you can function as my son’s caregiver, I will provide you with more information.”
He should say “no” and get the hell out of here. The temptation of three days of work at the rates Alfonse was paying tipped the scales. He’d have over a week’s worth of hours in those few days. Enough to get some unsavory creditors off his back for a little longer.
“Three days?”
“Yes. If it works out, I’ll make sure you have all the information you need.”
Andrew dropped his bag at the foot of the bed and held out his hand to the older man. “Deal.”
Alfonse smiled briefly before straightening his spine and getting back to business. Andrew’s patient’s father was not only powerful, but obviously accustomed to getting his way. He gave Andrew a brief rundown of how they’d been treating Caleb, including the few medications they’d been giving him.
Andrew didn’t have a chance to ask many questions, as Alfonse’s phone gave a shrill ring, and the man left the room after giving Andrew a quick pat on the shoulder. Alone with his patient for the first time, Andrew glanced down at Caleb’s supine form. His stomach fluttered. For someone as sick as Caleb was, the man was still incredibly handsome. He could imagine running his fingers through Caleb’s deep-brown hair, the way Caleb’s stubble would scratch at Andrew’s face when they kissed. Andrew grumbled to himself for his unprofessional thoughts and forced his mind to ignore Caleb’s looks and focus on him as a patient.
He grabbed a notebook and pen from his bag and began making quick notes for the nonexistent chart. With the little information he’d been told, the page remained mostly blank. Andrew grabbed his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from his bag. Caleb’s pulse rate was high, too high for a man apparently unconscious. Andrew jotted down the time and figure and wrapped the cuff around Caleb’s upper arm.
When he pumped the air into the device, he got his first reaction from his patient. Caleb’s eyes flew open, and he jerked at the black binding on his arm. Andrew laid a hand on Caleb’s chest and spoke in his matter-of-fact nurse voice. “Shh. You’re fine. I need to take your blood pressure. Let’s just take a minute, and you can calm down, and we’ll get this done, okay?”
Caleb frowned and looked around the room. “
Father?” he whispered hoarsely.
“He’s downstairs. My name is Andrew, and your father asked me to help take care of you for a few days.”
Caleb’s dark eyes widened, and he seemed to notice Andrew’s scrubs and nursing tools at the same time. “You’re the new nurse?”
“I am. Now, let’s take your blood pressure, okay?”
“Fine. Not that it matters.”
Andrew didn’t respond to the negative tone and completed the test. He jotted down a note and turned back to his patient. “Anything I can do for you?”
Caleb grumbled. “I need to piss.”
“Not a problem. Can you walk or is there a bedpan for your use?”
“I can fucking walk.” Caleb struggled to sit up and then tossed away the blanket covering his legs. After several deep breaths, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed to his feet. He wobbled for a moment before taking several shaky steps toward the bathroom.
Andrew fought to keep his distance, not wanting to damage Caleb’s pride further. He kept his eyes on him, though, and was prepared to move quickly should Caleb’s steps falter. Caleb stopped at the doorway and rested against the frame for a minute. He rubbed his hand over his hip and winced.
This time, Andrew made a mental note. It might be something worth remembering when he learned more about Caleb’s illness. By the time Caleb used the facilities and made it back to the bed, Andrew had stripped and remade it using spare sheets he’d located in the bureau next to the bed.
Caleb collapsed back onto the mattress with a low groan. Andrew covered him up. “Would you like a drink? Something to eat, perhaps?”
“Ugh,” Caleb moaned. “I haven’t been able to keep much down in days.”
“Hmm.” Andrew scooped up his notebook, and Caleb reached over to grab his arm.