Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
I might be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. I know I need stitches and medical care for this stab wound, and I need it today.
Cars beep their horns at me as I take a sharp right across two lanes, turning in the direction of Redwick General.
I can hear Easton breathe a sigh of relief from the back seat at my silent agreement.
“I’ll keep the car idling outside the entrance,” I say, a plan forming in my mind as I speed towards the hospital. Traffic laws are the least of my fucking worries. “You both go, grab a doc, and get the fuck out of there as fast as you can. Try not to be seen, but we can do damage control with the cops and press later if we need to.”
Half the cops in this city are corrupt, easy to bribe and control with the right words and some money in their pockets. But I’d really rather not deal with press reports of a kidnapped doctor if we can avoid it. Though I can get our tech guy on it, it’s an annoyance I don’t need.
But needs must, I suppose.
I can’t afford to be injured right now, and protecting my people matters more than anything. I’ll do whatever I have to do.
I wasn’t born into this life, but I owe my life to the last Don before me, Vin. Easton and I, my lifelong best friend and now my second-in-command, grew up in foster care together until we couldn’t take it anymore at fifteen. We didn’t have anywhere to go or any idea what we were doing, but living on the streets would have been better than the hellhole of the foster home we were in.
Instead of being homeless, Vin found us and took us in. He taught us how to defend ourselves, how to run legitimate businesses and cover up the less-than-legitimate ones, how to organize and command men. Looking back now, I think we reminded him of himself. When he died, his title passed on to me. I’ve been running this section ever since.
The hospital building comes into view, and I ignore the empty parking spaces, instead looping around the parking lot to check out the area. It’s not particularly busy today, given that it’s barely noon on a damn Tuesday and most of the injuries occur on weekends. Random daytime stabbing is apparently quite rare.
Lucky me.
Outside the main entrance to the ER, someone wearing a white coat and navy blue scrubs leans against the aged brick, her blonde hair tied back into some sort of twisty hairstyle that makes me grateful I keep my own hair short. I can’t get a good look at her face, or her body given the shapeless scrubs, but from the uniform alone, it’s obvious she’s a doctor. Perhaps on break or just slipped out for some air.
Whatever the reasoning, this is our chance.
I pull the car around the side of the hospital in the lane that leads to the staff parking lot around the back, as hidden as I can get in order to make a quick exit.
“Don’t bleed out while we’re gone!” Darragh calls as he and Easton slip out of the car.
I hate waiting, but even I can concede that in my current state, actively kidnapping someone probably isn’t in anyone’s best interest. I trust my second and my enforcer with my life, so as much as it rubs me the wrong way to sit on my ass while they do this job, I know they’ll do what needs to be done.
I keep the engine running, ready to high tail it the fuck out of here the second my men and our new doctor are in the vehicle. I don’t have to wait long.
In the rearview mirror, I catch movement, making out the blue scrubs and the dark hoodie Easton always wears. Darragh yanks the backdoor open, and between him and Easton, they bundle a confused, scared-looking doctor into the back. They each take a seat on either side, sandwiching her between them so she can’t get to the doors. Easton’s hand is over her mouth, his other hand keeping her wrists together so she can’t fight. She tries to kick out, but between the two of them, she has no chance. Both of them are highly trained, skilled fighters who I’ve seen torture and kill men before. The doctor, in comparison, is a foot shorter than Darragh’s six-foot-three, with wide blue eyes and blonde hair that’s half escaped the updo in the struggle.
Ah, fuck.
Something in my chest seizes as I take her in. There’s fear in those sapphire eyes, sure, but there’s also fire. Anger, determination, strength. It calls to something deep within me.
She calls to something deep within me.
But there’s no time to focus on that right now.