by Morgan James
A searing anger shot through me. Whoever it was had medical training, probably a surgeon. Doctors were supposed to help people, protect them—instead, someone was taking it upon themselves to hunt down innocent citizens of Dallas for their own personal gain. Black market organs went for a pretty penny—some sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Bastard,” I murmured. Three sets of eyes swiveled toward me, and I pointed to the screen. “There is no excuse for something like this. I hope they find the person responsible.”
Brandi’s eyes turned sad. “You never expect things like this to happen in your hometown, to people you know.”
That was an understatement. Bad shit happened everywhere, but this was too much.
“Do you remember Mr. Tripp?” Chris asked.
Brandi shrugged. “Only vaguely. I know he was in here a couple times.”
No longer hungry, I tossed my sandwich back in the fridge and headed to my office, where I closed the door and sank down in my chair. The thought of something like this happening so close to home made me sick, and a shiver raced down my spine. Not that it was any consolation, but the victims so far had been male. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have anything to worry about, but that didn’t mean I would let my guard down at all until they figured out who was behind the killings and why.
I desperately hoped they would ID the second and third victims soon. Maybe the police would get lucky and find a definitive connection and catch the killer. That would at least give the families some closure. I couldn’t imagine something like that happening to someone close to me. Victoria’s incident was bad enough. It’d been horrible, seeing her story on news the morning after Gavin and I...
At the mere memory of him, my heart twisted in my chest. He’d tried to call me a couple times, but I’d ignored him each time, unable to bring myself to speak with him. The thought of him with that girl tore my heart to shreds.
He’d startled me by accusing me of being on a date, and I’d immediately gotten defensive. Everything had gone downhill from there. He’d stormed off at the sight of Clay, heading for the bar near the front of the restaurant. After dinner I’d headed in that direction to speak with him. I at least wanted him to hear my side of the story. As it turned out, he’d already turned his attention elsewhere. Beautiful, big boobs, hand possessively on his thigh. I couldn’t get the image of that woman out of my mind. It was just like Steve’s indiscretion, but worse somehow. Seeing them together reminded me of why I refused to let another man in. I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help it. Though I’d been the one to push him away, subconsciously I wanted him to care about me the same way I was beginning to care about him.
Rising from my chair, I pushed my negative thoughts away and wandered toward the nurses’ station. Stella was headed toward me at a fast clip, her brow furrowed with concern.
I lifted my brows in question. “Everything okay?”
“I just got off the phone with Mr. Price a little while ago. He called with chest pains, and I suspected it was a heart attack. I went ahead and called dispatch and had them pick him up, then reached out to his emergency contact.”
“Good,” I said, relieved. “Thank you.”
We walked back to station A side by side, and I leaned my elbows on the counter. “Who do I have next?”
“McPherson, room 104.”
“Thanks.”
I took care of my next patient, but I couldn’t get Mr. Price off my mind. I could call the hospital to check with the attending physician, or... I leaned my elbows on the counter at the nurses’ station.
“Stella, what else is scheduled for this afternoon?”
She clicked through the system. “Dr. Coleman has a patient at 4:20, but that’s it for the day unless we have any walk-ins.”
I chewed on my lower lip. “Still haven’t heard anything about Price?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
I checked the clock hanging over the desk on the wall. “I’m going to head over, see how he’s holding up. I assume you already sent a copy of his chart to the hospital?”
She nodded. “Taken care of.”
“Awesome, thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning.” I headed toward the back of the office and shrugged out of my lab coat, then grabbed my purse and locked up before heading toward Dr. Coleman’s office. I froze in the hallway as the sound of angry voices met my ears.
“I swear, I never meant for any of that to happen.” I recognized Dr. Coleman’s voice.
“Like that makes it any better.” The second voice sounded bitter and resentful.
“I’m sorry. Believe me when I say I tried—”
“That’s not good enough!”
“You’ll never know how sorry I am.”
“You think you can apologize and make all of this go away?”
Make what go away? I bit my lip and leaned infinitesimally closer.
The man paused, and I imagined him seething, shaking his head. “It’s too late for that.”
“Please, I—”
“You’ll pay for this.”
The man’s parting words punctuated his exit, and I jumped out of the way as he stormed out of Coleman’s office. He seemed taken aback to see me standing right outside, but he gathered himself quickly and continued down the hallway. I peeked my head around the doorway and saw Dr. Coleman with his elbows braced on the desk, head resting in his hands. He looked more saddened than concerned by the threat, and sympathy tugged at me.
“Everything okay?”
His head jerked up, and his startled eyes met mine. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off. “Loss is hard. Sometimes people just...”
So, this was a patient they were discussing, someone who hadn’t survived. “It never gets easier, does it?”
He shook his head, his expression sad. “No, it doesn’t.”
Silence descended for a second, and I cleared my throat. “I’ve got a patient over at Memorial. I’m gonna head out and check on him.”
“No problem.” He offered me a strained smile.
The drive to Memorial passed slowly as I battled the afternoon traffic, and I let out a little sigh of relief when I finally pulled into the multilevel parking deck. I headed straight for the ER and took my place behind an elderly couple as I waited to speak with the nurse on duty. I offered her a smile when I got to the window, then flashed her my badge. “I’m Dr. Kate Winfield from over at the VA. I believe one of my patients, Philip Price, was just admitted here a couple of hours ago.”
She checked the system, then nodded. “They just moved him up to the fourth floor. He’s in room 416.”
“Thank you.” I shot her a smile, then headed toward the metal detector to pass through into the main portion of the hospital. The elevator was just getting ready to close when an older man stuck his hand out and stopped the doors, allowing me to step inside.
“Thank you.” I punched the button for the fourth floor, and we rode in silence, the car stopping every few seconds to let people off. I finally stepped out onto the fourth floor and made my way to the nurses’ station. A young man was just writing Mr. Price’s name on a whiteboard behind the desk when he caught sight of me and lifted his chin. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m Dr. Kate Winfield, here to see Philip Price.”
“Oh,” the young nurse said, “he’s mine.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Great, so far,” he responded. “Tests show it was pretty mild, but he’s had a series of them, spaced pretty close together.”
“Do you mind if I check in on him?”
“Go right ahead,” the nurse invited. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I nodded to him, then headed down the hall toward room 416. Inside, the television played softly, but I was surprised that his family hadn’t arrived yet. I rapped my knuckles on the doorjamb before stepping inside.
Mr. Price’s head swiveled my direction, and his eyes lit with a combination of surprise and pleasure.
“Dr. Winfield. What are you doing here?”
“Stella told me you called into the office, said it sounded like a heart attack, which it was. Just wanted to come check up on you.” I lifted his chart from the bin attached to the wall and flipped through it as I approached the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Old,” he quipped.
I chuckled softly, then set the chart on the small wheeled table before pulling a chair up to the side of the bed. “Apparently the tests show that you’ve had a series of mini heart attacks recently. Have you been stressed out, overexerting yourself?”
He let out a little sigh. “No more than usual.”
I studied him for a long moment. “It might be better if you stayed with a family member for a while, just in case anything happens. Do you have anyone close by?”
“My boy is on his way here,” he responded less than enthusiastically. “I guess I could ask him.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” I encouraged.
A scuffle in the doorway dragged my attention to the man there, and my eyes widened. Gavin looked dumbstruck as he paused midstride. I sat riveted, as helpless as a deer caught in the headlights, watching a series of emotion flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise. Pleasure. Lust.
I couldn’t rip my gaze away from his, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest. God, he looked good. Had he looked this good a week ago? Of course he had. That was precisely why the brunette at the bar had practically climbed into his lap.
A faint buzzing filled my ears, and my mind felt curiously blank as I tried to process the turn of events. Why was he here? Unless...
“Well, don’t just stand there,” I heard Phil say, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between Gavin and me. “Come on in, son.”
Oh, God. Swallowing hard, I dropped my gaze to the floor. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out before now. Gavin Price was Philip Price’s son.
I watched a pair of shiny leather shoes cross the floor until they were directly in front of me. I glanced up, expecting to find those dark eyes on mine, but Gavin’s gaze was instead fixed on Phil. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, fine,” the older man commented, waving one hand toward the extra chair. “Gavin, this is Dr. Winfield. Doc, this is my son, Gavin.”
Gavin didn’t make a move except to slant a look my way. My breath suspended in my lungs as he stared down at me. “How are you?”
“Good, thanks.”
After a painfully long silence, I pushed up from the chair, careful to avoid brushing against Gavin in the process. “Well, I should be going. Take care of yourself, Phil.”
He offered a little wave, and I departed the room like my heels were on fire. I’d just made it to the elevator when a strong hand wrapped around my wrist, halting my progress. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get my attention, there was no mistaking who the hand belonged to. Slowly, I turned to face Gavin.
He released my arm and let his own fall to his side. He just stared at me. Why did this man affect me so badly? There never seemed to be any middle ground with him—he made me feel too much. Too much passion. Too much pain.
I steeled my heart as I peered up at him. “Do you need something?”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then snapped it closed again. “It didn’t mean anything.”
My heart cracked at his admission. Hearing him say out loud that our time together meant nothing hurt more than I thought it would. I couldn’t even muster up the ability to speak over the lump in my throat. I started to turn back toward the elevator when his voice stopped me cold.
“That woman—she meant nothing. I... We didn’t...” He let out a harsh sigh. “Nothing happened.”
Honestly, I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. He looked sincere enough, but I was well aware of how conniving and manipulative people could be when they wanted to be. “Okay.”
“I just wanted you to know,” he said softly. “There hasn’t been another woman since you.”
My heart leaped in my chest, and I fought like hell to control my expression as he continued to speak, his voice low, his eyes serious.
“I promised I’d wait for you, and I will.”
Damn, I wanted so badly to believe him. I wasn’t honestly sure what scared me more—my intense reaction to him or his avowal to win me over. Either way, it seemed like a losing proposition for me. I’d fall and have my heart shattered once more. I couldn’t let that happen.
The elevator arrived with a quiet ding. Without a word, I stepped inside and turned. Gavin’s eyes remained locked on mine until the doors closed, just like the walls surrounding my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Gavin
I slowed to stop in the garage, then shut off the engine and headed around to the passenger side. My father waved me off as I opened the door and held out a steadying hand.
“I’m fine on my own,” he groused. “Don’t know why they insisted on me coming home with you.”
I bit back an exasperated sigh. “Because you just had a heart attack—multiple, actually—and your body is still weak. They wanted to make sure you had someone close by in case you needed help.”
He struggled out of the seat, then leaned against the side of the car for a moment, catching his breath. “I’ve been taking care of myself for sixty years. Nothing’s going to change now.” He drew in a panting breath and glanced around the garage. “It’s too damn hot in here.”
I turned away as I rolled my eyes. Of course it was hot in the garage; it was damn near a hundred degrees outside. I was half tempted to give in and take him back to his house, but both Kate and the staff at the hospital had insisted he have someone close by at least for the next few days. Like it or not, we were stuck together for the foreseeable future. My baby sister Whitney was his favorite, but she lived three states away and had a family of her own. I couldn’t make her walk away from that just because Dad was being stubborn.
I let out a sigh. “Let’s just go inside.”
I turned and headed toward the house, leaving him to follow. God forbid should he think I was doting on him. I opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, then made my way to the fridge for a bottle of water. I cracked the lid and took a healthy gulp as Dad shuffled in and shut the door behind him. I watched over the rim of the bottle as he puttered around the counter and sat heavily on one of the barstools. His face looked flushed, and there was a fine layer of perspiration on his forehead from his trek inside. I couldn’t tell if it was the strain on his body or the unbearable heat that had caused it.
I slid a look at him and gestured toward the fridge. “Want some water?”
He gave his head a little shake. “No, but I’ll take some coffee if you’ve got some.”
I blinked once, hard. He was fucking with me, right? What the hell was it with old people and coffee? He’d complained less than two minutes ago that it was too hot out, but thought it was totally normal to drink coffee now? I gave my head a little shake as a rueful laugh escaped my mouth. “I can make some for you.”
He gazed around the room, and one eyebrow lifted at the sight of my single-serve brewer on the counter. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I want you to feel at home here. Besides, it’ll only take two minutes to brew a cup. Just tell me how you take it.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” he replied.
“If you want coffee, I’ll make the damn coffee,” I snapped.
He huffed an irritated little sound and heaved himself off the barstool. “Just show me where the guest room is so I can rest up a bit.”
I clenched my back teeth together, fighting back the urge to scream. I didn’t know why he had to be so damn difficult all the time. He was my dad, and I loved him, but we’d never seen eye-to-eye; we never would. Not for the first time, I wished Whitney could be here to take him off my hands. She would know exactly what to do. I had a feeling
the next week was going to be rough on both of us.
Shoving away from the counter, I strolled down the hallway toward the front of the house. I’d converted my office into a bedroom for him and had a bed and TV moved in so he wouldn’t have to struggle up and down the stairs. There was a full bathroom one door down, so the setup was almost ideal. Or so I thought. Dad paused in the doorway and looked around, a frown tugging at his lips.
I felt my hackles rising as I watched his gaze sweep over the room. “Something wrong?”
He gave an abbreviated shake of his head. “Nope.”
The tone of his voice told me he was lying, but I couldn’t bring myself to care at that moment. No matter what I did, it wouldn’t be right. I decided to take a step away before my anger got the best of me. “Make yourself at home,” I said through clenched teeth. “And yell if you need anything.”
Without giving him the chance to come up with anything else that aggrieved him, I jogged up the stairs to my room, pulling my cell from my pocket and dialing as I went. Whitney picked up just as I closed the bedroom door.
“Hey, big brother. How is Dad doing?”
“Ornery as shit,” I replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to take over for me?”
I could practically hear her eyes roll through the phone. “The only reason you guys don’t get along is because you’re so much alike.”
“I take offense to that,” I retorted. I’d admired my dad growing up. He was a hard worker and a good husband to my mother until she passed, and all I’d ever wanted to do, just like every other kid, was make my father proud. From the time I was in middle school, I followed in his footsteps, playing peewee football, then becoming a high school quarterback and leading our team to state. After graduation, I spent two tours serving my country in the Marines, just like dad had. After I was discharged, I went to his alma mater and got a degree in law—just like him. And I hated every second of it.
It paid the bills and then some, and I enjoyed when people got what they deserved, but that wasn’t nearly as often as it should be. I felt like something was missing from my life, maybe more than one thing. I knew a lot of it had to do with Kate. Ever since I met her, I’d felt the urge to settle down, or at least turn my attention to a more serious relationship. Even though she’d been married at the time, I knew there was something different about her, that I wanted to explore it further. She had her reservations, but I hoped I would be able to convince her to give me another shot.