Page 4 of Crusher

“Have a good day at work, sis,” Kyle shouts from the living room.

“You two behave yourselves! Love you!” I depart with a wave before sprinting back to my truck and finally heading off to work.

I change into my scrubs as fast as humanly possible and run out of the locker room, securing my long hair in a ponytail before the new nurse manager, Chad, is yelling my name from down the ER hall.

“Come over here.” He crooks his index finger at me, earning a mass of hushed giggles from nearby nurses. I force my expression to remain passive at his pitiful attempt at dominance and casually stroll toward him.

If I thought anyone was worse than Crusher, it’d be this man. Chad is completely insufferable, a total dick of a boss. And I know he gets off on making the nurses cry.

Yeah, takes a real man, pal, to make a woman cry. You thunder cunt.

I come to a stop in front of him, his glare harsh enough to halt a tornado. “Do you not own a watch, Michaels?” he sneers.

Why does he insist on calling us by our last names?

“No.” My response is curt, but otherwise, I show no emotion. I’ll never let this jerk get a rise out of me.

“Maybe you should invest in one. Then you won’t be forty-five minutes late to work.”

I count to five in my head. I will not let my anger get the best of me. He may be a dick, but he’s still my boss and I need this job. “I’m sorry, Chad. I left you a message explaining I’d be late. There was an accident on the road this morning, an?—”

He raises his palm to silence me, and I pinch my lips together. “I don’t care about your lame excuses. You better be here on time or you’ll find yourself unemployed. Am I understood?” Each word is sharp and deliberate, emphasizing his threat.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from spouting off like I really want to. My body trembles in frustration because it wasn’t my fault. It’s Crusher’s, because he just had to get himself thrown off his damn bike. Okay, that’s not fair either. He’s not to blame for being shot at by a van full of lunatics, but I need to place the responsibility somewhere. And I’d rather place it on him than allow myself to feel things I don’t want to feel… for him.

“I understand, Chad,” I confirm through gritted teeth.

“Good.” He nods sharply before sidestepping me and traipsing off.

An array of curses sounds off in my head, all directed toward this shitty day. This morning has been a pain in my ass from the moment I woke up. Just leaving the house was an annoyance, with Kyle hounding me about having a babysitter. He was right, though. At some point, I have to let him grow up. I’m just so protective of him after everything that’s happened. Yet I mentally decide that fourteen will be the age when he’s allowed to stay home by himself. Until then, the kid needs a babysitter.

I saunter over to the nurses’ station and ask about the hand-off reports that I missed from the night shift. I’m assigned my tasks for the day; then I go about preparing to check in on my patients. I’m about to head off when my ears perk up to amused gossiping coming from two coworkers sitting at the end of the counter.

“That guy they brought in is so hot,” the young blond with glasses mumbles.

“You mean the one with the tattoos and dark hair? Yeah, he is.” The new girl with the messy bun fans herself dramatically with one hand.

“Can you imagine how good the sex must be?”

New girl sighs wistfully. “Probably better than it is with my fiancé.”

I move closer to them. “That guy, the one you’re talking about? Do you know what his condition is?”

They both stare at me, eyebrows raised as if I was intentionally eavesdropping. “Why? Do you know him?” Blondie probes.

“I was there this morning when he got hurt and I just wanted to make sure he’s alright.” It’s true, but not the whole truth, which is none of their business.

“Now, don’t tell me you actually give a shit? I never thought I’d see the day.” A resounding voice I know all too well has me slowly turning around to face Venom. He stands with his large hands crammed into his front pockets and a sly grin lifting a corner of his mouth. He proudly wears his Satan’s Disciples cut, as he should, considering he’s the president of the club.

Venom may be older, but he’s a very handsome man with more muscle than most guys his age and even some younger. His long hair is neatly tied back, but his short beard is growing a bit long and slightly graying on the sides. It makes him appear somewhat wild, but we both know he’s a force to be reckoned with, barely contained by his well-controlled facade. His soulful eyes track my every move until I’m standing in front of him, his impressive height towering over me.

I give him a respectful nod. “Long time, no see.”

“I’d say. Haven’t seen you around much.”

I wouldn’t say we’re friendly, but I’m familiar with Venom, just like most Carnage residents are. He makes it his business to know the people around town. That way, it’s easier to spot those who don’t belong.

“The couple of times you came to the club for a party, you hauled outta there like your ass was on fire.” His knowing expression dares me to tell him otherwise.

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