I turned away from the window. Feck. Now I was rock hard in my pants.
Well, fine. The cock wants what the cock wants. I’d find her, work my magic on her, and get her into bed like all the rest.
As I headed towards the door, though, I had this itching, nagging sensation. She’s trouble. I didn’t just want to fuck her. I was... fascinated by her. Despite the fact she was so different to the others. Maybe because of it. And that felt dangerous.
Nah. It’ll be fine. I flung open the door.
And walked right into a teenager.
“Hi!” she said, far too brightly for a Monday morning.
I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling my stubble scratch. “Who are you and why are you so perky?” I frowned. “Where did you steal the scrubs from?”
“Bethany Taylor!” she said, no less perkily. “I’m your medical student.”
Were students really that young these days? I knew she must be early twenties, but she looked like she was barely in college. Was I really that young, once? “My student?”
“Mr. Bartell paired me up with you. He said it’d be good for you.”
Bartell. I always hated administrators and this one already had it in for me. I wanted out. I needed to get back to a city, to the bustle and noise. But Bartell was right, I was beyond my last chance. Being fired three times in a year will do that.
I studied Taylor suspiciously. She had long, golden hair straight out of a shampoo commercial, bubblegum pink lipstick and she was looking at me excitedly...and just a little cautiously. “What else did Bartell say about me?” I asked tiredly.
“Nothing, Doctor Corrigan.”
“Taylor….”
She bit her lip and looked at the floor. “He said don’t let you rub off on me because he doesn’t need another loose cannon.”
I waited. “... and?”
Her cheeks colored. “He said not to let you chat me up.”
I sighed. Come on, like I’d fuck a MED student! Then I frowned. Okay, there was that one time…. But not now. Now, I had my sights firmly on Beckett. “We’ll get on just fine, Taylor,” I told her. “What have we got?”
She led the way to Exam One and pulled back the curtain. A white-haired guy sat on the edge of the bed and a much younger guy sat on the visitor’s chair. “William Jackson, possible arrhythmia, history of coronary heart disease….” She ran through his vitals while I studied the guy.
He was in his sixties with a deep tan that he sure as hell hadn’t gotten in Colorado and a thin coat that said he wasn’t used to the weather here. Two of the local cops strolled past the open curtain. Instantly, my patient was on his feet. “I don’t need to be here,” he said.
“You do,” said the young guy in the chair. “You’re having palpitations.”
Now he looked like a local. He was in a heavy plaid shirt and he had a thick jacket hung over the back of his chair. He couldn’t have been much older than Taylor, with thick, unruly black hair and big blue eyes. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves and his arms were loaded with muscle. Probably had all the girls after him. But his eyes were following the cops, too. Both of these guys were mixed up in something shady.
I got the old guy to open his shirt and listened to his heart. The faded prison tattoos weren’t a total surprise. And... yep. “You are having palpitations,” I told him. I turned to the young guy. “Good catch.”
He flushed. “I... uh... did a few years of medical school.”
Taylor stepped forward, interested. “No kidding? Where’d you study?”
The young guy looked at her and their eyes locked.
“I’m Seth,” said the young guy.
Taylor grinned and bit her lip. “Bethany.”
I rolled my eyes. Ah, young love. “Nice tan,” I told the old guy. “Florida?”
He looked at me suspiciously, then nodded. “Flew in last night.”
“You have altitude sickness,” I told him. “Florida to Colorado is a ten thousand foot difference. It can cause palpitations if you already have heart disease. It’ll pass in a day or two. But I want to do an ultrasound of your heart, just to be sure there’s nothing else going on.”
Both of them jumped up. “No need,” said the old guy. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, doc.”
I narrowed my eyes. This was more than just a couple of criminals being antsy around cops. They were scared of something else. I put my hand on Seth’s chest, blocking him. “What’s going on?” I asked.
He wasn’t going to tell me. But when Taylor cocked her head to the side and made it’s okay eyes at him, that did the trick. “My dad,” Seth blurted at last. “He doesn’t know we’re here. He’ll be mad.”
And he rubbed at something on his forearm. A tattoo, still angry red with freshness. I’ve been around the world, but I’d never seen anything like it: two crossed rifles beneath a clenched fist.