Fair enough—Todger was a frequent flier at the ER, but what he really needed was long-term treatment. When I’d first started, I’d pestered the hospital social workers until they found him something, feeling all proud of myself. They’d warned me that it wouldn’t stick, and it hadn’t. He’d lasted less than a week before he walked away from the program, saying he didn’t like the psychiatric drugs or the people telling him what to do.
Based on his smell, I figured he didn’t like being forced to bathe, either.
“I’ll check on him,” I said, sighing. Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I left the nurses’ station and headed toward his room.
“I owe you one!” Sherri laughed, and it took everything I had not to flip her off. Knowing my luck, some administrator would see me and I’d get reported.
I smelled him before I saw him. For a small-town hospital, we got more than our fair share of homeless, so I’d gotten used to patients who reeked of feces and stale alcohol. Frankly, it was better than the smell of blood and rot, which scared the hell out of me. At least you can wash off shit and Todger wasn’t likely to die on me. I stepped into the room and reached for the curtain.
“Todger, I hear you’re back—”
He hit me from behind.
It took a split second to orient myself and then I was fighting. Unfortunately, that was just enough time for him to get his hands around my throat. Oh my God, is this really happening? Sweet, stinky Todger was attacking me, choking the life out of me and I couldn’t even scream for help. He slammed my head against the floor, sending bright bursts of pain exploding through my skull.
I kicked out, desperate to throw him off. My feet caught the computer cart, sending it crashing across the slick tiles. It slammed into something and then metal crashed to the floor, clattering loudly.
“I’ll kill you, bitch,” he hissed in my ear, slamming my head to the floor yet again. “I’m onto you. You’ve been feeding them information about me too long, but now you’ll pay. You’ll die!”
The last words rose in pitch, and then he started a long, high keening as his fingers tightened around my neck. Loud shouts penetrated the fog in my head, and then there was a flood of people in the room. Orderlies were pulling at him, prying his fingers off my throat as they dragged him away. Somehow I found the strength to scramble backward, huddling against the wall as I watched Sherri in action, an avenging angel with a hypodermic needle. She darted in, injecting him fast and hard.
Todger continued to fight, but I knew the meds would kick in fast. The reality around me seemed distant and hard to follow—shock. Then Sherri was next to me, coolly assessing as I caught snatches of conversation in the distance.
“Check on her.”
“Restraints . . . never saw this coming.”
“He’s been getting worse for months . . . call psych . . .”
“Melanie?”
I focused in on Sherri’s face, blinking.
“You’re in shock, babe. Stick with me, okay?”
“I’m fine,” I managed to whisper, trying to focus. My head hurt . . . a lot. But nothing else. No broken bones, nothing like that. “I’ll be just fine. No worries.”
Sherri gave a short laugh.
“Always the hero, aren’t you?” she said, although I caught a hint of fear in her voice. “On the bright side, maybe we’ll finally get an inpatient bed for Todger. At least for a while.”
“He’ll be right back out,” I managed to whisper, offering her a weak smile. “Probably won’t even remember what happened.”
That made her laugh.
“Sad but true,” she said. “Just watch, they’ll turf his ass five minutes after the hold ends.”
“All in a day’s work,” I said ruefully, shaking my head. Big mistake. Rolling over, I puked all over the floor.
Wasn’t that just great—he gave me a concussion.
Pisser. The next couple days were gonna suck.
PAINTER
I leaned over the pool table, lining up my shot. The game had started as an excuse to wrap myself around the cute little redhead who’d been flirting with me across the bar for the last half hour, but she’d turned out to be a surprisingly good player. Suddenly I’d found myself with a real challenge. Turned me on, had to admit.
About fuckin’ time, too. Most of the women I met these days were boring. I liked getting my dick sucked, no question, but I still tended to close my eyes and picture Melanie in their place. My cock never seemed to get the message that she wasn’t interested in us anymore, no matter how many times my brain explained this reality.
Fuckin’ ridiculous. All of it.
Pulling back the cue, I took my shot. The ball hit with a satisfying crack, sending the green solid toward the back corner pocket. Red pouted prettily, then sashayed over to give me a kiss. I’d just covered her mouth with mine, reaching around to grab her ass, when the phone in my back pocket buzzed.
I considered ignoring it.
Christ, but I wanted to ignore it. Unfortunately, one of the downsides of club life is always answering the damned phone, because a brother might be in trouble. Giving Red’s generous ass one last squeeze, I pulled away to grab my phone.
Melanie.
She never called, not unless it was about Izzy, and I couldn’t think of a single reason she’d be in touch at midnight on a Friday if it wasn’t an emergency.
The pretty redhead ceased to exist.
Catching Puck’s eye, I mouthed Melanie as I made for the bar’s open patio, away from the music.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, feeling anxious.
“Painter? Are you there?”
“Just a sec,” I told her. “I’m heading outside where it’s quiet.”
“Okay.”
It took a minute, but I finally found a patch of privacy toward the back. “Hey, what’s going on? Is Izzy okay?”
“She’s fine,” Melanie said, her voice sounding strange. Harsh, like she’d been coughing. “Look, I need your help.”
Well. That was different.
“All right . . .”
“Here’s the situation—my shift was supposed to end at eight, but there was an accident at the hospital. Izzy’s with a sitter and they’re keeping me here overnight. London’s out of town and—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, my mind switching modes instantly. I’d heard some guys bitching that their exes were always dumping the kids on them, but Mel wasn’t like that. If she’d called, it was because she’d run out of options. “I can get her. What’s the situation?”
She didn’t answer for a minute, and I went from concerned to suspicious.
“Melanie? What’s going on?”
“A patient attacked me,” she admitted slowly.
“The fuck?” I asked, chilled. “Why?”
“He’s mentally ill,” she said quickly. “Probably doesn’t even remember doing it. Look, it’s no big deal but they want to keep me for the night to make sure the head injury isn’t serious. I told them it’s not, but you know how it is. Liability.”
“I’m coming to the hospital,” I said. “I want to see for myself.”
“No, it’s nothing,” she said. I might’ve believed her if she hadn’t sounded like she’d swallowed a truckload of gravel. “I’m fine, but Izzy’s sitter has work in the morning and she really needs to get home, to bed. She’s at my place. I’ll call her and let her know that you’re on your way. Izzy’s sound asleep—she won’t even realize anything happened.”
I considered arguing with her, then decided it was a waste of time.
“All right, I’ll head there now.”
“Thanks, Painter,” she replied, sounding tired. “It’s been a rough night. Knowing Isabella’s covered is a big relief.”
• • •
“Thanks for watching Iz,” I told Marie, Horse’s old lady, early the next morning. “She’ll probably wake up around seven, and if she’s upset that Mel isn’t here, you can have her call and I’ll talk to her.”
Marie nodded, smiling at me reassuringly. No complaints from her, despite the fact that we’d dragged her out of bed at five a.m. Horse was a lucky man. “No worries—we’ll have a great time together. Just go make sure Melanie’s okay and I’ll keep you covered on this end.”