"I don't think I'm going to see him again," I said, turning to Joleen.
She came into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite counter. "Well, if you're both planning to stay in Green Bluff, that's going to be pretty tough to avoid. Have you talked to Chris about any of this?"
Chris. Shit. Chris. I hadn't given a single thought to him in over twelve hours. We'd only gone on those two dates together. Except the last one ended with me tipsier and hornier than I planned and I'd let him fuck me in the back seat of his car. Just like some bad prom date. God. It had only happened three days ago. We weren't at the point where I felt I owed him any explanations about an old boyfriend. But despite my action speaking to the contrary, I didn't normally sleep around. Stuff like this was exactly why I liked order in my life. Chaos screwed everything up. Sleeping with Chris was chaos. Dex McLain was chaos.
"It doesn't matter," I said, thinking it through at the same time I answered. "Dex is in the past. I'm not going so far as to say Chris is my future. It's too soon to make that kind of a statement. I don't expect him to clue me in on his old girlfriends so ... no ... this isn't something I need to run and tell him about."
Joleen nodded. "Glad to hear you say that. But you need to tell him something. Chris called me yesterday wanting to know why you're dodging his calls and texts."
Ugh. I crashed my head to the countertop. I had to do something about Chris, even if it was just to tell him I needed space to figure out what I wanted. If only I could get the memory of Dex's lips sliding down the column of my throat and heading lower out of my head.
"Get dressed." Joleen turned and walked out of the kitchen. "Our shift starts in twenty minutes."
Any hope I'd harbored that work would be a welcome respite from the inside of my head was shattered at 8:03 that evening. That's when Dr. Louis Brancheau decided to grace the E.R. with his presence. He had a pattern of degrading nurses, talking down to patients and generally lowering the morale of the entire department.
I stood patiently, gritting my teeth listening to him berate me about how to start an IV line while a two-year-old girl laid limp on the gurney in the aftermath of a doozey of a febrile seizure. In his arrogance, he started an arterial line instead and jokingly told the kid's distraught parents, "It's okay, she might need one of those too before she gets out of here."
"I think we've got it from here, doctor," I said, plastering on my best diplomatic smile. "Why don't you let me call you after we get her settled into a holding room?"
Brancheau snorted at me but mercifully left the room. I set about unfucking his mess and got the girl started on a valium drip the right way. Then I talked her parents through the next few minutes as they watched their daughter finally fall asleep.
Brancheau left me alone for most of the rest of the shift but I had to deal with two crying nursing assistants, four pissed-off patients and the mess he made of my intake system.
"How many hours until seven?" I muttered through tight lips as Doyle, my favorite intern, walked by. He had two bright red splotches at the center of each cheek. I knew him well enough to know that meant he was holding in some serious anger. Yet another victim of the Great Andrew Brancheau, M.D. As brutal as he was with the nursing staff, he was even harder on interns.
"Fuck," Doyle sputtered. "Too many. It's just after eleven. And I'm on until noon tomorrow."
I patted Doyle's back. He was a sweet kid. Twenty-eight years old and he'd already lost most of his blond, wispy hair.
"Just keep doing what you're doing," I said. "Our job here is to pretty much keep Brancheau from killing anyone. I know you're up to the challenge."
"Ava," he said. "When are you going to finally agree to leave all of this behind and fly away with me on my Gulfstream?"
I laughed. This was a running joke between Doyle and me. We knew the "rich doctor" stereotype was a fantasy. Doyle was up to his ears in student loans for a job that was shockingly low pay nowadays.
"Get in line, sistah!" Misty walked between us and planted a fat sloppy kiss on Doyle's cheek. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her into a low dip. Yep. Dr. Doyle Wayne-he of the two first names-was one of the good ones. Misty the Man-eater was all wrong for him. The twinkle in her eye when he finally let her up reminded me that I was going to have to fix Doyle up with someone suitable before he got himself into major trouble.
The radio squawked at the nurse's station and Misty stepped around me to get to it. I didn't like the look on her face when she talked to the EMT on the other end.
"Not another car pileup," Doyle muttered. "That will make three this week."
I gave Doyle a knuckle knock to share his concern. This particular phase of full moons had been extra deadly this time around.
"Bring 'em on in," Misty said, talking into the receiver.
I arched a brow at her when she didn't fill us in right away.
"Oh." Misty smiled, talking to both me and the EMT on the other end. She mouthed the words, "It's Cal."
She nodded and jotted notes while Cal talked in her ear. "Sorry. He's about two minutes out. Stabbing victim outside the Great Wolves Gym."
My heart tripped. Stars swam in front of my eyes. "What is it a club member? How bad does he say it is?"
Misty said some words but I couldn't hear her over the blood roaring in my ears. I reached over her and took the receiver from her.
"Cal?" I practically shouted. "Cal, it's Ava. What've you got?"
"Stabbing victim," Cal answered. "Lost several units in the field. You need to page whoever's on call from surgery. The knife's still in his chest and he's got multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and right hand where he tried to deflect it."
"Is it a club member?" My mouth went dry. Joleen was suddenly in front of me. The receiver went choppy and I couldn't hear Cal's answer.
It was Dex. I knew it. My heart knew it. Of course it was Dex. He was back. There were consequences to that. There always were. This is how these things worked. He came back into my life just to be snatched away again before I even had a chance to talk to him about anything real.
"Ava." Joleen took the receiver and put it back in its cradle.
"It's Dex," I said. Color drained from Joleen's face as well.
She nodded and set her mouth into a grim line. "Prep Exam 1," she yelled out, but Doyle and Misty were already on the move.
Two minutes later the ambulance bay doors open and my world shattered into a million pieces all over again.
Chapter Eight
Dex
The transition was going to be tougher on Billy than Sly had let on. I could see it in his face. We spent the day going over books. Sly planned on calling a meeting in the morning so he could lay out what he wanted for the next few weeks. Bottom line, he wanted me to learn the business inside and out. I was going to meet with suppliers, get to know the promoters, even start observing some of the training sessions with our most promising fighters.
For the first time since I'd rode back into Green Bluff, I felt more excitement than dread. When Sly talked, ideas started churning in my head. The gym was a massive organization and the next thing on the horizon was bidding on two new locations in the Midwest. He wanted me to head out to Cleveland with him in a couple of weeks to meet with some investors and scout some property. It would be a chance for the two of us to ride cross country again and reconnect with some other charters along the way. If things weren't so unsettled with Ava, I felt like I could maybe breathe again for the first time in more than a decade.
Billy was less than thrilled. He sat in on the meetings; as V.P., it was his place. But he didn't say much and kept a permanent scowl on his face. I had to trust Sly knew how to handle him better than I did. But I was getting damn sick of feeling like I had to apologize for breathing when he was around. Billy was brand new when I went inside. I'd paid my dues and patched in long before he even started hanging around the club. Diplomacy wasn't my thing. What he needed was a swift kick in the ass to set him straight.
"I want you to sit tight and handle things here while we're gone," Sly said after laying it out for Billy that he wasn't invited on the Cleveland ride.
Billy shook his head. "You're the boss, boss. But I think blowing off Chicago is a bad idea."
Chicago was George Pagano's headquarters and I had no desire ever to set foot in the state of Illinois again, having served my time there. I'd learned this was a running debate between Sly and Billy. Billy wanted to build a gym near Evanston. Sly didn't want any part of it. The further we stayed away from Pagano's reach, the better.
"I need you here, Billy, and that's the end of it." Sly rose to his feet and rapped his knuckles on the table. I raised a brow when Billy set his mouth into a hard line.
"Franco's got a big fight with DiSalvo on the 14th of next month," Sly went on. "DiSalvo's people keep trying to renegotiate the terms. I need you here to keep a lid on that. I can't rely on Franco's trainers for shit like that. It's got to be one of us or they're going to try walking all over that kid."
Billy nodded but his eyes were still cold. Something else was brewing between them that I didn't think had to do with me. Chalk it up to one more thing I'd need to get straight from Sly when it was just the two of us. Blackie might be long gone, but I could see the internal club drama was just as bad as it ever was. Charlie had kind of warned me as much on our ride out here.