I thought back over the past month or so at the clinic, then remembered the woman from last weekend. Broken rib. I’d given her a script for pain pills twice before, but that was more than enough for her recuperation time. Had this man broken her rib just so he could get the pain meds for himself? What was her name? Alice something.
“There was a woman last weekend. Broken rib and wanted more pain meds, but I didn't give her a refill. I can’t tell you her name. Confidentiality laws.”
Mr. Casale held up his hands. “I do not need the name, just the confirmation that this is probable, and I will not bore you with the details about how I will resolve this.”
It could involve breaking laws and a bullet to the back of a head, therefore I really didn’t want to know.
“We only have a small amount of medicine at the clinic. We give out paper scripts, or send them by computer directly to the pharmacy. Either way, why break into my house? I have nothing for him there.”
Mr. Casale shrugged. “I didn’t say this person was smart, just mad.”
“Have you told this to the police?” Paul asked.
“Some dumb guy hooked on pain meds broke into my house and wanted to hurt me!” I kept my voice down, but couldn’t keep the anger from it. It was my turn to grip Gray's hand. “I climbed down a Boy Scout ladder in my pajamas all because of pain med prescriptions?”
“I know we have just met so you probably do not know the extent of my involvement in the community,” Mr. Casale continued.
“You founded the clinic where Emory volunteers,” Christy said. All eyes turned to her in surprise. I didn’t know that little gem of information and I worked at the place. “I’m Director of Community Relations at the hospital. I know all about this stuff.”
I used to work in administration, but on a nursing level, not the same pay scale as Christy. It was news to me.
“This is not your problem. It is mine,” Mr. Casale said.
“With all due respect, sir,” Gray began, but Mr. Casale held up his hand to stop him.
“Your problem is keeping Emory happy. This,” he waved his hand, “this man, he messed with my clinic and he has messed with a volunteer there. She is also my friend and under my protection. He is my problem.”
Paul had said Mr. Casale was a connected man. By the look on his face now, the tone of his voice, I believed him. He might have been older, he might have a grandson, but he was not someone I wanted to mess with.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“This…problem will be resolved tonight.” His words were sharp and edgy. Lethal. “Stay with your man.” Mr. Casale indicated Gray with the tilt of his chin and I flushed. “Have him take you to your rowing group in the morning, then spend the day together. Forget about this. I will call you when it is over.”
Mr. Casale was earnest in his words, where, if spoken by anyone else I would have laughed. Gray lived in a darker world than me, knew how to fight, knew men who liked to fight. He wasn’t laughing either, but instead leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and narrowed his eyes.
“No way. I’m going with you.” When Mr. Casale was about to speak, Gray pushed on. “Sir, you didn’t see the flimsy ladder she tossed out her window to escape. You didn’t hear her on the phone when she was hiding from the guy. You didn’t have to drive across town to get to her. I’d never felt more helpless in my life knowing someone was after her and I couldn't protect her.” With every word his jaw clenched tight, his body tensed, his voice turned dark.
I melted a little inside at the thought of what Gray had gone through when I’d called him. I couldn’t imagine a similar phone call and not want to seek retribution.
“I want to know this man’s off the streets.” Gray sat back, put his arm around the back of my chair and I felt his thumb stroke over my back. Even with all his obvious hostility, the touch was gentle.
I turned in my chair to face him. “I don’t want you hurt.”
He swiveled his head toward me. “I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt.”
A frisson of fear shot through me. This was the fighter part of Gray I hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m going with you.”
Both men chimed in at once. Even Paul shook his head.
“Absolutely not—” Mr. Casale began, but Gray cut him off as he kept his eyes focused on me.
“I can’t do this and worry about you.” Those dark, dark eyes bored into me. The intensity there was for seeing justice done, for protecting what belonged to him. I belonged to him. “Go with Paul and Christy. They’ll take you to my apartment and you can wait for me there.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his words made sense. If I went with them to God knows where, most likely the darkest and most dangerous corners of the city, Gray could get hurt if I distracted him.
I took a breath, knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind. “You…you promise you’ll come back to me?” I knew the worry came through in my voice. I’d just found Gray and didn’t need him hurt, or worse.
He cupped my cheek, leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Promise.”