red hair, smirking at me. “Is that so?” I ask, only flirting in return so I don’t hurt her feelings. She’s wearing pink scrubs and on the left breast says her name, Mindy. She’s cute. Sane. Not fucked up.
Which is cool if you like that kind of thing.
I like my women to be a bit of a mess.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, running her hand up and down the side of the machine. She taps the top of the machine three times, then kicks the bottom, and then adds another whack in the middle.
“I’ll be damn,” I say, impressed. “Isn’t that fancy?”
“Just a thing or two you learn once you work here long enough,” she says, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms under her ample tits. Her eyes land on my name on my cut, and immediately I’m annoyed.
She’s one of those.
She’s a biker bitch.
“Thanks.” I wave my sandwich in the air. “I need to go.”
Her fingers dig into my arm as she stops me from walking away. “How about you and I go out sometime? I’ve always wanted a Ruthless King.”
You know what I find really annoying? Easy women. It isn’t because they like sex. I don’t have a problem with women getting their own. We have cut-sluts for a reason. I’ve had my dick sucked by a few, like Candy and Jasmine. Humans need touch, passion, sex. It’s natural. There’s no judgment. But I don’t like women who have an ulterior motive for their actions. Want to fuck?
Great.
You want to fuck but somehow figure out how to get in the club or maybe trap one of us? That’s my problem, and she has biker bitch written all fucking over her, especially with how she’s rubbing her nails up and down my biceps.
“No, thanks for the offer, but I’m taken.”
“She doesn’t need to know,” she purrs, biting her bottom lip into her mouth. She rubs her breasts against me, and I grab her arms and push her against the vending machine. Her mouth drops open on a moan, liking it a bit rough, but I’m not getting hard off this. I’m getting pissed the fuck off. “Yeah, I like that, Doc.” She emphasizes the C in my name. “Unlike this machine, I like it a little rougher.”
“Let me get something through your head, sweetheart.” I bend my head down and act like I’m about to kiss her. “I’m not interested. If you’re looking to become a cut-slut, you’re welcome at the clubhouse, and I’m sure there are a few guys there who would be happy to run a train on your ass. I’m not interested.” I let go of her arms and see the water pooling in her eyes. Everyone thinks I’m this great guy, head on straight, no temper, but I have the worst temper of all.
My fuse is short, and there has only ever been one person to sizzle it out with just her presence.
And it isn’t some whore of a nurse.
“You get me, sweetheart?”
Her brown eyes turn hard, and the lust vanishes. She has a few freckles dotting her nose, and her lashes are long and thick. She’s cute, but her personality seems to carry ill intentions.
“Your loss,” she snips, straightening her top and fluffing her hair.
I start to walk away, but the need to have the last word takes over. “Yeah, I highly doubt that,” I spit over my shoulder.
“Asshole,” she mumbles behind me.
Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I don’t care.
My boots pound against the hallway as I pass medical carts near a few closed rooms. I reach Jo’s room and take a minute to compose myself. I don’t want to be the guy with a bad temper with her. My phone vibrates again, and this time I don’t ignore it. I dig into my jean pocket and pull the damn thing out. My stomach drops when I see Reaper’s name.
“Doc, here,” I answer quickly and nod at another doctor who walks by, giving me a look that says he doesn’t like me standing outside of a room for no reason.
“Doc, we need you… There’s been a…” The phone goes in and out, replaced with static. I can hear screams in the background and another round of fire.
“Reaper? Reaper? What’s going on? What did you say?” I plug my right ear to try to hear what he says, but it’s static. “Reaper!”
“So many gunshot wounds. Get here. Now!”
I hear another round of gunshots before the line goes dead. “Fuck,” I hiss and hang up