Remy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 4)

But you know who made a lot of cash that they couldn’t claim to the federal government?

Arms dealing bikers.

I mean, I was probably getting ahead of myself, letting my love of romance movies get the better of me.

But it was an interesting theory I totally needed to run past Myles.

“I wish I could give you something stronger, but we have to be really careful about controlled substances,” Dr. Stone told me a couple minutes later as she brought me three acetaminophen in a cup. “I’m sure if you want something stronger that one of your friends can get you some. They are good at that sort of thing. I am having Michael, my nurse, trying to track down a good immobilizer for you. It should help a lot. The worst thing you can do while this heals is try to use it too much. Give it a rest.”

“If you are running low on braces, I can find my own,” I assured her.

“Are you kidding? Girl, you have that good medical insurance. We are charging you for it. Which would probably give us enough money to buy a dozen more of the ones we buy from this discount retailer I found.”

“Do you… own this clinic?” I asked, wondering why she was so enthusiastic about it.

“No. No. I mean, I would love to one day. I, apparently, want to go gray early and develop stress ulcers. And, yes, I know stress ulcers are a myth, but I swear I can feel one burning here and there. This place is owned by a trio of ultra-rich doctors who use it as a sort of write-off. And to make their resumes look less pretentious, I guess. But they are never actually here.

“It would be the ultimate dream to be able to buy them out and run this place like it should be run. For now, I run it the best I can.”

“The community seems to rely on this clinic.”

“It does. More than you know. My grandma got treatment here for her COPD. Kept her out of the hospital. And the family out of insane debt. We need this place. Even if we are all horribly overworked and underpaid.”

“Hey, didn’t you need to do a full physical on me?” I asked, watching as her brows furrowed. “To, you know, make sure nothing else was wrong with me?” I added, giving her big eyes, wanting her to know what I was saying without saying it because we both knew it would be akin to insurance fraud if we said it out loud.

“You know, yes. I think it is important to be thorough.”

So then I got a physical.

And the clinic could charge my insurance another couple hundred dollars that would hopefully help them, you know, buy gloves and stuff.

“Listen, I like you,” Dr. Stone said as she brought in my brace.

It was a sling that crossed in the back and supported my forearm around the middle of my stomach, then had this giant velcro band that crushed my upper arm to my body, making it impossible to move my shoulder.

“I like you too.”

“So I am just going to say… think about who you want to be involved with, okay? I’m not going to judge you if you can’t seem to help yourself. I get it. Really, I do,” she said, and I could have sworn her gaze went to the door, like she was looking through it. Possibly into the waiting room where Seeley was seated. “But make sure you think it through.”

With that, she walked out of the room, leaving me alone in it with nothing but my thoughts. And my ineffective acetaminophen.

It seemed like forever.

Eventually, Myles came in to crack some jokes and speculate with me about Seeley and Dr. Stone before heading out to flirt with the nurse he swore was down.

It wasn’t long after that when the door opened again.

And there he was.

The man whose face had been in my head almost nonstop since leaving the jewelry store.

The thing was, in my head, all I could see him as was the animal charging at those men.

But the person standing in the doorway of my exam room wasn’t that same guy.

This was Remy.

My Remy.