The Casanova (The Miles High Club 3)

“I need to know what’s happened, sir, I can’t help you without all of the facts.”

I look around, and check for blood, but everything seems normal. Her work clothes are in a bag and then I notice something on her desk, a white box of prescription pills.

“There are pills,” I stammer as I dive for them. “Prescription.”

“What’s the name of them?”

I fumble with the box to try and read it out fast and drop it, and I scramble to the floor and under the desk to retrieve them. “Fuck it.”

“Calm down, sir.”

“Send a fucking ambulance,” I yell. “What is your name? I want your fucking name and rank.”

This bitch is going down.

Kathryn groans.

“Kate,” I whisper, and take her hand in mine. “Wake up.”

She frowns as she tries to come to.

“Are you there, sir? What is the name of the medication?”

“Um . . . Hydrocodone slash acetaminophen,” I reply.

Kate’s eyes flutter open and she looks up at me.

“Are you alright?” I whisper.

“What?” She frowns and tries to sit up and onto her elbow.

“Lie down,” I bark.

“How many tablets has she taken?” the operator asks.

“How many tablets have you taken?” I ask Kate.

She frowns. “Huh?” She then flops back to the floor; she appears drunk.

“She’s disoriented,” I reply.

“She’s taken a strong painkiller. Count the tablets, sir. I need to know how many she has had.”

“Send a fucking ambulance before I put my hand through this phone and strangle you,” I scream.

This bitch is hopeless . . . no wonder people die every day.

“Count. The. Tablets.”

My fury bubbles and I count through the blister pack. “There are thirty-eight tablets here.”

“How many came in the box?”

I speed-read the directions on the box as I look for the amount. “Pack of forty.”

“So, she’s had only two?”

I stare at the dazed woman in front of me. “I think she’s had more than that.”

“Can you look through her belongings and see?”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Listen here, you motherfucker. I want an ambulance to the Miles Media building right now. If this woman dies I’m having you charged with . . .” I pause as I try and think of an appropriate charge. “Something bad,” I splutter. “Murder.”

“Just check her bag.”

I begin to rattle through Kate’s bag, wallet, keys, makeup . . . tampons. I wince and throw them over my shoulder.

“Well?” the operator asks.

“I’m looking, alright? There’s a lot of fucking crap in here.” Oh, screw this, I tip the handbag upside down onto the carpet and stuff flies everywhere.

“What are you doing?” Kate whispers as she sleepily sits up. “Get out of my bag.”

My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Get out of your bag? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“What?” she whispers.

“What’s happening, sir?”

I grit my teeth. “The patient is about to get knocked back out. That’s what’s happening.”

“What is your name, dear?”

Kate frowns. “Kate Landon.”

“What’s happened?”

Kate frowns as she looks around. “I don’t know.”

“You took some medication?” the operator asks.

“No,” she whispers.

I hold the box up and widen my eyes. “Look familiar?”

“Oh.” She puts her hand over her forehead as she remembers. “Yes, I took some painkillers.”

“What were the painkillers for, dear?”

“Period pain.” Kate’s eyes flick to me.

I roll my eyes. Now I’ve fucking heard it all.

“How many did you take?” the operator asks.

“Only two.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Remind me never to do cocaine with you,” I mutter dryly.

“Can you sit up?” the operator asks.

Kate goes to sit up and struggles. I take her hand and pull her up into a seated position.

“I’m dizzy.”

“You’ve had an adverse reaction to the medication, you’re drowsy and disoriented. It happens with some people.”

“So, is she okay?” I snap.

“She needs to sleep it off.”

“I’m bringing her into the hospital, I want her checked out,” I reply.

“Sir, you might be waiting for hours in Emergency. If she has only had two tablets I can assure you she needs to sleep it off and nothing more.”

My eyes flick to Kate. “How many have you had, really?”

“Two.”

I glare at her. “I mean it.”

“I promise.”

“Fine,” I snap.

“Can someone pick you up, dear?”

“I’ll drive her home.”

Kate goes to stand up. “I’m fine.” She slips and stumbles back over.

“Congratulations, sir, you did a great job,” the operator says.

Patronizing cow.

“Yes, well, I wish I could say the same for you. It’s lucky she isn’t dead with your snail pace. There was no urgency whatsoever. Work faster next time. Goodbye.” I end the call with force.

Kate looks up at me and then her heavy eyelids close once more.

“Come on, I’ll see you home.” I sigh.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles with her eyes closed. “I’m just going to . . . sleep here tonight.”

I begin to pack up her things that are strewn all over the floor. “You need to clean out your handbag, this thing is full of shit.” I stuff things back in.

“Like you,” she whispers with her eyes still shut.