Chapter 4
REID
The night isn’t great. My men managed to get my bed up and into one of the rooms at the top of the house, but the shower is crap and awkward, and my arm hurts like a bitch as soon as I lay down.
I think about Callie—my little captive nurse—and feel the pain blooming, until eventually sleep catches up with me.
The morning isn’t much of an improvement, except that coffee helps everything.
I’m up early, before Callie. My arm is agony, but I try to ignore it and get some shit done.
There are a ton of reports from my men, all in messages and voice notes that I read and listen to on my computer.
Jack would sort and deliver them to me as a single document if I asked—and often does that—but there’s something good about hearing directly from the source.
It seems Loughton is in flux. His two sons appear to have taken over, but they’ve got the same number of brain cells as ears, so I don’t expect that to last long.
I suppose I should feel satisfied that we came out better in a fight they started, but the death of my medic sits heavy on my shoulders, along with the other men, thankfully not many, I’ve lost over the years.
Apparently, the general mood of people in the Loughton and Woodford territories after this incident is impatience with the squabbling of the mafias, and I can’t say I blame them.
I breathe out, frustrated. We need to sort this.
I’m running through the options with increasing irritation when Callie’s soft footsteps on the stairs alert me that she’s awake.
My mood instantly lifts.
She looks at me warily. Her hair is down, and it’s stunning.
Long waves that make my cock twitch as I imagine wrapping that silk around my fist and using her hair to hold her still as I fuck her hard.
She’s in jeans and T-shirt, and looks very relaxed compared to my usual suit.
I need to bring some jeans from home to this house so I match her style.
Then she notices me, and she’s the sun breaking through the clouds. A nervous sun. She bites her lip and her eyes go wide as she sees me at the table, my laptop and phone laid before me, and my suit jacket slung over the back of my chair.
We stare at each other for a second. She opens her plush pink lips, and I lean forward, eager for what she’s going to say.
“You’re not wearing your sling. Or a top. You’ll get cold.”
Ah. Yes, I left the sling off because it was in the way, and the shirt because my arm was tight enough from swelling, and I didn’t want to mess around with it. I nod, accepting she’s right. I don’t even mind, because her telling me off feels surprisingly like care.
“You’re a good nurse, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
That shudders through her, and her cheeks go pink. She likes being praised, does she?
“It won’t heal as well if you don’t keep it still. And it’ll bleed more. How is it this morning?” She’s approached, almost despite herself. Drawn to me as I am to her.
Or, more likely, drawn to my wound and to her calling of helping people.
“Where is it? The sling.”
“Upstairs,” I admit.
Her annoyance is cute. “I’ll get a new one for you.”
She returns a few minutes later, having helped herself to the stash of medical supplies that I was given at the hospital, and draws up a chair next to me.
“It’s been bleeding,” she chides me gently. “You need to be more careful. I’ll change the dressing now, before I go to work.”
“Hmmm.” I still don’t like that she’ll be out for more than twelve hours for her shift. But a deal is a deal.
Even though the wound is swollen and much more sore this morning, Callie’s touch is still better than anything. I let myself relax a bit, and watch. Her focus is admirable.
And yeah, I have to clench my teeth as the dressing sticks, but she has the distilled water to ease it, and at least my skin isn’t crawling. It’s as good as it’s going to get. And Callie is so close, I can smell her peaches scented hair.
“There,” she says when she’s done, including having put a sling on me and draped my suit jacket over my shoulders so I stay warm. Adorable.
“Have coffee with me.” It’s not quite an order. “You haven’t even had caffeine today.”
“I’m a tea girly.” She smiles. “Can I get you anything?”
I blink, because that’s ridiculous. I’ve steamrollered my way into her life, and she’s offering to fetch drinks for me? We’re going to sort this out.
“Thank you. I don’t eat breakfast.” Unless it was her juicy little cunt. I’d definitely be hungry for that kind of sustenance.
She scowls at me like a cross kitten. “You should. It’s good for you!”
“You’re right. I’ll make sure tomorrow we have breakfast together.”
Her eyes go wide. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“It’s the least I can do for my roommate, who’s helping me out with these dressing changes,” I reply, and it’s too easy, because she hesitates. “And I’ve arranged for Jack, my second-in command, to drive you to the hospital.”
“But I walk? It’s around the corner. It’ll take longer in the car.”
I raise one eyebrow at her.
“This is beginning to sound like…” She struggles to find the right word.
The correct term is coercion. I don’t say it.
“It’s for your safety and comfort,” I tell her instead. “Just a kindness for my roommate.”
She sighs.
“I can’t—”
“You can,” I snap. “You will.” My presence in her life has made her a potential target for Loughton, and I’m not having anything happen to her.
Even in disarray, they’re close—only over the border into Essex—and capable of doing something reckless.
It’s bad enough that she wants to go to work.
The thought of something happening to her makes me feral.
“I really should go to the police.” But it’s not a sincere threat, because she’s half smiling.
“And tell them about this terrible man who is providing you with free luxury transport to work? What will you be trying to do? Make them envious?” Besides, there’s no way the police would do anything about me. Most of them are on my payroll in Woodford.
It’s definitely a smile now, as she shakes her head as though to say, “I can’t believe you”.
And when she leaves for work after having a cup of tea, I admit, I regret not doing more to keep her with me rather than allowing her to go to work. I’m impatient for my little nurse to come home.