“Your usual table, Doctor Hartley?” Daniela, the very sexy hostess, asks.
“I told you to call me, Zeke.” I wink and watch her tight little ass in her black skirt as she leads me to the table.
I’ve tapped into her sweet pussy a time or two. She knows the game, and I could go for a taste right now. I can’t, and my balls ache from it. I need to get this meeting over. Get my ass home to bed. It’s been an excruciating couple of weeks with one of my good friends, Katch, being shot, cleaning up his mess, and working my long hours in the ER. I love all those guys. My brother Saxon, or Brick to his club, too, but fuck all if this shit isn’t wearing the hell out of me. Not sure how much more of dealing with the club I can take.
The cold truth is, I’ll do anything for them. They took my baby brother in when we were both halfway down the gates of hell after our family fell apart, and that’s one thing I’ll never be able to repay. Saxon couldn’t pull out of it. He was coasting down the highway of hell leading straight to a life sentence in the state penitentiary.
“Call me,” Daniela whispers in my ear when she stops at my table, pulls out my chair, and places a napkin in my lap. I won’t. I gesture with a simple nod of thanks.
“Gentlemen,” I acknowledge the mayor, his son, and the CEO of the hospital.
“How are you, Zeke?” Mayor Dickinson asks.
The real answer weighs at the tip of my tongue. I would love nothing more than to tell him I’m tired as fuck and he doesn’t have to kiss my Goddamn ass to get me to help or to write a check. I make more money than I know what to do with. Every dollar I get from the club goes into charitable contributions. I keep none of it. I don’t need it.
“Ready to get down to business.”
I typically hate organizing shit, but when it comes to my charity, Lost Angels, it’s my passion. Any other charity or event I’d rather attend, do my part, and go home and fuck whoever I have on my arm. It’s as simple as that. Even with the extra demand at the hospital, I’ll never give up on this charity. It’s grown slower than I like, but the important part is, there is growth. I’m stepping up my game with this plan of a charity ball with hopes of millions going to Lost Angels, a women’s shelter in the state of California with the hopes of going nationwide. Rape and abuse victims. Their scared little children. These women need all the help they can get. It’s hard enough when one comes into the ER all beaten to shit. Raped by her husband, boyfriend, or a stranger. If I can help in any way, then I’m sucking my piss-poor organizational skills up, the memories that haunt me and what’s pulling my weight to have me here.
“Great. I brought a file with all the information you will need to support the ball. We put together these charity events all the time, Zeke. This one will bring yours a lot of money.” He places a file on the table. “My office will do most of the work. If you could attend our monthly meetings until we get closer…what the hell was that?” The mayor raises his voice. Startled. As am I.
We all abruptly stand to the loud shrilling scream from outside of the window. I don’t hesitate to get up and run out the side door. Doctor instincts on high alert from the blood-curdling scream.
“Hey! What the fuck is going on down there?” I yell, my feet trying to keep up with my sprint.
Several men dodge past me, but I can’t look at them. All I see is the bloody, beaten mess of a woman lying lifeless on the ground.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I rip my jacket off, grab my phone, and dial 911, dropping it on the ground while I check for a pulse.
“I need an ambulance at 5th and Dexter, now!” I yell to the operator before she gets all her wording out. She rattles off questions, while I answer and scan the half dead woman.
“I’m a doctor. All I know is, this woman is going to die if you don’t have them here within five fucking minutes.”
Her pulse is barely there. Vomit and blood foam out of her mouth. I’ve seen a lot of wicked shit pass through my ER room, but nothing holds a candle to this. It takes me long beats to digest how mangled her small frame is. When she begins to seize on the ground choking, my instincts finally kick in.
Her airway needs to be cleared. I reach into my pockets for gloves and realize I’m in an alleyway and not in the hospital. I don’t hesitate to swipe in her mouth, pulling out the bloody mass, and then secure her safely during her seizure. Her breathing is labored and becoming less and less.
“Fucking ambulance now!” I scream into the phone.
There’s a growing crowd behind me, but I ignore them. The fact I know there are nurses and doctors inside that restaurant who work in my field and haven’t stepped in to offer a hand really pisses me off.
On cue, the howls of the ambulance fill the alleyway; their screams to tell people to clear out of the way ring out in my stinging ears. The paramedics are quick to react as they carefully lift her lifeless body off the ground. I shout out the orders from beside her, helping them get her into the back of the ambulance. They don’t blink twice when I climb into the back, shoving one of them out of my way, and pull out a knife to cut her shirt off the rest of the way in order to access the damages. Track marks are everywhere. On her arms, the little bit of her stomach that’s visible. She’s a junkie. “Goddamn it, woman. You are not going to die on me. Do you fucking hear me?” I screech. Her face is so messed up. Long, blond hair coated in blood.
“My God, what the fuck have they done to her? Control the bleeding on her left breast,” I bark out. Jesus, if I had to guess what that mass of shit was in her mouth, it would be her nipple. “I need a 14-gauge needle, or she’s going to crash.”
The paramedic follows orders as I race to get a chest tube started. Her body coated in grime and blood makes the task nearly impossible. I wipe away the blood with the sleeve of my shirt. She needs air right fucking now. I straddle her body while working over the top of her. My hands work naturally, but it’s my mind playing fucking tricks on me, taking me back to places I keep locked away in a tightly sealed box.
Is this how my sister was left to die? Barely hanging on for her next gulp of air with her own body drowning her? She was abandoned in a ditch on a lonely highway. Was she scared after her attacker brutally raped her, or was there no time left for her to be scared? Her bright blue eyes used to once shine with happiness and carefree thoughts, but all of it was taken away in one night. Her life was gone in a flash. All of our lives ripped apart. Broken.
When the girl’s eyes flash open and I see Clara’s bright blue eyes shining back at me, I have to look away from her face. It’s all too much flooding inside of me all at once. The paramedic takes over trying to talk to her. The blood coats the gloves on my hands I never knew I put on, taking me right back to the reason I became a doctor, and it’s all centered around Clara. God, she was a bright light in our world. The one who walked through life without a care in the world. While all I wanted was to get the hell out from under our parents’ thumbs. Saxon was always getting into trouble. The loss of our sister only heightened his ways. Fucked up. We all were, except her. The innocent victim of a dark and horrendous crime.
After she had died, my family fell apart. Saxon was destroying himself, and his life was one bad decision after another. My parents leaped off their own deep end by soaking their grief in booze and hurtful accusations. I was the oldest of the siblings and had no other choice but to leave. Joining the Army sculpted my future. Gave me opportunities to escape my reality and the grief our family was enduring, but it also opened up an entire new box of shit. All too quickly, my heart became steel holding my brothers as they died. I was there to save them but couldn’t. Their blood coating my own body. Their hearts were pumping out the last ounces of their blood onto my skin. I became reckless in the war zone, giving up on life until my four years were up and I came home. Went to college and became a doctor.
That black box of memories was sealed tight and locked away until her. She’s bringing it all back as she struggles for her life.
“Heart rate and blood pre
ssure way too high,” the paramedic announces.
“Find a vein and get fluids going. Get her blood pressure down.”
Her body begins to seize again, making it damn near impossible to keep her breathing up.
“What the hell happened to get you to this state?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
There’s no way in hell she could’ve heard me, but her eyes blink furiously as if she did. All I see is Clara. All I remember is that no one was there to save her. That is not happening in this case. The ambulance comes to an abrupt halt, the back doors swing wide open, and all chaos continues to save the life of this unknown woman.
Time fades just like long forgotten history as all hands begin working on the woman. Her body is so broken she’s going to need stabilizing while we’re running tests and preparing her for surgery. The chest tube relieving her collapsed lung.
“Get these cops the hell out of here, Mable!” I roar, rush past the motherfuckers who think they own this place.
“We need to know what happened, doc?”
“That is not important right now. You’ll get your answers when she’s good and ready. Now, get out of here. Go investigate the crime scene.” I walk right past them and straight into my ER. The nurses are already in prep mode.
“I need to get cleaned up; you got this, Callahan?” I ask one of the other trauma doctors.
He nods going straight into action without a second thought. The bloody mess the woman is in doesn’t affect him one bit.
It does, though. I have no doubt about it. I push through the swinging doors, get my bloodied shirt off, and scrub the ever-loving shit out of my hands and arms three times before I push the button with my forearm for a nurse.
“I doubt her nipple can be stitched back on. Can you take it out of my pocket, make sure it gets sterilized, please?” I ask.
“Yes, of course.” I stand still, while she dries my hands and chest, places a gown and gloves on me. Digs in my pocket and retrieves the woman’s body part.
“Whoever did this is a masochist. That poor girl. Thank God you were there to save her,” she says kindly.
Guilt heats my chest; it tears it open, crawls inside, and seals itself shut. If only I could have saved my sister.
Bursting back into the ER room, I see it’s full of action. The chief surgeon of plastic surgery is elbow deep assessing the broken beauty. He’s barking out instructions to get her jaw wired right away with her nipple being the least of his concerns right now.
Callahan takes care of her overdosed body by slipping her into a short induced coma, knocking off one more problem on our to-do list. It’s going to be a long, nasty road of struggle for her, but I will fight like a motherfucker to help her whether she wants it or not.
30
Zeke
My bed. My fucking bed would be heaven tonight, but I’m stuck in the on-call room with these scratchy-as-hell sheets. A full night’s sleep would also be heaven. At this point, I’ll settle for sixty minutes of deep slumber.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Her broken body trying to grip on for dear life. Her nipple sliced off and stuffed down her throat. She was left to drown in her own vomit, flesh, and blood. She had poisoned herself with copious amounts of drugs. Meth and God only knows what else. Jesus H. Christ.
Her jaw was shattered to the point there was an open wound.
I pound my fist into the mattress knowing sleep will never come with my mind on this nasty, never-ending replay of an evening. It’s all too much. I sit up, the guilt clawing away at my thick clogged throat. My mind telling me to go take a shower, to clear my head. Anything that will try and help me relax.
Again, like a pompous dickhead, I’d rather be at home in my shower with the force of ten showerheads, sleek tile, and my favorite shampoo and soap. Instead, all I can smell is her.
Fuck, these past few months have rained hell down on me. The hospital has run me ragged transitioning to new higher-ups. The ER room is my kingdom, and they all know it, but it also comes with long hours and lots of work. Then Saxon needing my help with his club. I’ll always be loyal as hell to those men for saving my brother, but I’m exhausted from all of it.
Covering their tracks and sneaking around the hospital isn’t exactly easy, to say the least. I’m not a dirty doctor, nor do I feel the secrets I’ve kept are wrong in any way. This world is fucking corrupted. Caitlin and her mother are prime examples of the way certain people in this fucked-up world live.
Society’s bad guys masked as the good guys are the most dangerous ones. They’re the ones who cause harm tearing people’s lives down one by one and get away with it. It all makes me fucking sick. Except, to a point I’m no better. I carry on and turn an eye to the wrongs my brother and his club do.
The reflection staring back at me in the mirror is downright scary. Black lines under my eyes, the scruff on my face, and grown-out hair. I know some women find this shit sexy, but it just reminds me of the past few months of hell. Thankful no one else is in the on-call room, I grab my shaving kit from my locker and set out to work on shaving. With a final swipe of the towel on my face, I look like a brand-new man when I peer into the mirror this time. The next time I have a spare hour, I’m paying a visit to my favorite barber on third and Monroe to buzz this mop of hair off.
I prefer a bald head; it reminds of the days spent in the service. Days where good took over evil and wiped them clean off this earth.
Now, just a hot shower, and I might feel part-human again. The shower is nothing fancy. Hot water is hot water at this point. I’m naked and just getting ready to step in when there’s light rapping on the door.
“Come in.” I have a damn good suspicion who it’s going to be.
“Doctor.”
I turn to see Marissa, my favorite nurse to fool around with, walking into the bathroom. She shuts the door quietly behind her. Her eyes are focusing in on my ass.
“Need something?” I ask, only turning my face slightly to face her with one hand still on the shower door.
“Haven’t seen you around lately and, um…” Her voice shakes, so I cut her off.
“Get in. I have twenty minutes,” I lie. I’ve got more time than that. I’m not about to tell her that, though.
Marissa beams brightly reaching behind her and locking the door. I step into the shower letting the hot water pour down on me.
It relaxes me instantly letting the worry of the past few days drift away. The silhouette of Marissa undressing outside the shower makes my dick grow hard in a matter of seconds. She’s an amazing fuck, always adventurous and up for a good time. She can suck cock like no other. Her breasts aren’t half bad, either.
The door to the shower opens slowly with Marissa’s auburn hair falling over her shoulders. Her shyness when she’s not shy at all really isn’t my biggest turn-on, but what the fuck ever. I need this, so I’m taking it. My hands go to work thirsty for her skin and a release.
Her body folds up to mine. All of it mine for the taking. All of the sudden, I have a hankering for her sweet pussy all over my mouth. Marissa gasps when I go down to my knees, press her back against the wall, and then throw her one of legs over my wide shoulders.
“Zeke, uh, oh, God,” she cries as I flick her clit with my tongue.
I work her over and over until she bursts open wide. I inhale her sweetness; all of it takes over the smell from today.
I’m the biggest son of a bitch for thinking about someone else, but fuck it. I really don’t care.
“Condom now,” I grit out, standing up.
My gaze tracks her sweet ass as she turns for the shower door, reaching out and pulling one from the pocket of her scrubs. Damn woman came prepared. If I cared, I would praise her for it. She’s going to get my cock, the one thing she came here for. It’s good enough.
It’s too fucking painful not to reach down and stroke my dick. I need some fucking relief. It’s a sign of how busy I’ve been lately. I’m known as a playboy with different women in and o
ut of my bed all the time. Fuck, some nights it’s a couple of women, but lately, there’s been no time for play. All of it has me wound so tight my balls throb.
She’s back in an instant, passing the condom to me. Putting it to my lips, I tear it open with my teeth. Marissa falls to her knees and rubs the seam of her lips over the head of my dick.
“Fuck,” I growl.
She takes it as a sign to go ahead. Her mouth enveloping my entire cock moving from base to tip. When she adds a light hint of teeth to the mixture, I nearly blow my load down the back of her throat. My hand wraps tightly in her hair, tugging her up. I need her now. Any more foreplay, and I’ll fucking combust. I whip her around until the seam of her ass is nestling my cock then roll on the condom.
I’d love nothing more than to take her sweet ass right now, but I don’t have the time, and I’d bust a nut in half a thrust. Marissa rolls her hips, making it perfect for my dick to slide right into her. My fingers dig into the flesh on her hips as I pump in and out of her. My mind finally able to relax, my body climbing high to an uncontrollable release.
It only takes one sweet little moan to escape her lips before she has me spilling into her while growling out my pleasure. I sear her with a sweet kiss to her shoulder blade before I pull out, roll the condom off, wash my dick, and scrub the hell out of my body.
I step out, flush the condom down the toilet, and set about the upcoming day.
Marissa stays behind in the shower, while I dry off and get dressed for my next set of rounds.
Peering down at my wristwatch after getting dressed, I see I have plenty of time left to grab something to eat in the cafeteria. My footsteps are lighter as I take the stairs down. Who knew a good fuck instead of an hour of sleep would have lifted my spirits so much.
After grabbing a turkey sandwich, I spy Caitlin sitting in the corner all by herself and decide to check up on her. Or shall I call her Nadine? I joke to myself. It’s the secret name bestowed upon her to protect her identity from the hospital staff. Katch, her boyfriend, nearly died awhile back in a brutal attack by the same motherfucker who shot my brother. Saxon was lucky, since it was only a superficial wound.
When Opposites Collide Boxset Page 23