Page 5 of In the Grey of Dawn

Ugh, he’s such a tool.

“Well Iaskedyou to make me come, but we don't always get what we want now do we,” I say rolling my eyes as I quickly check my scrubs are back in place, his insecurity doing nothing to dampen my mood over my pending move. Watch out Hidden Valley, Charlie is coming to town. A small part of me hoping that if I’m lucky enough, a certain dark-haired man will bend me over and fuck me again. My pussy clenching at the possibility of a round two.

Chapter 2 - Charlie

Making my way back to the emergency department I start putting together a mental list of what I need to do. Quit my job, pack a few suitcases and put the rest of my things into storage. I can plan to stay in Hidden Valley until at least Mila gives birth, and if I’m over small town life by then, I can just come back and pick up where I left off. If I decide to stay, I'm sure I can wrangle someone to help me move the rest of my things from the city.

I'm in such a daze, I barely register when a strong hand grabs my forearm and yanks me into a dimly lit private room. The small space feels even smaller with the privacy curtain pulled and a spare chair taking over the corner.

“Get the fuck off me.” I yell out.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time someone has tried to manhandle me at the hospital, however, I’m usually more aware of where people are situated. Still, as the only daughter to a single dad and three older brothers, I'm completely capable of fighting back when I have my wits about me.

With my free hand, I grab the little finger of the hand holding me and I yank it back until the tension snaps and it dangles at an unnatural angle.

It’s amazing how quickly you can distract a person by practically breaking their little finger and also how little remorse I feel about doing it. All I need is the opportunity to create distance between me and this person. Within seconds of them letting go of my arm I turn and give the hardest kick I can right at their balls, before stepping back to try and make sense of why I was dragged in here to begin with. To be honest, it wouldn't matter if it was a woman, man or any other person who grabbed me. A good kick to anyone's nether regions is enough to stop most people in their tracks.

Taking in the scene before me, I see a well-dressed man in a suit and a wool coat, grabbing the balls I just kicked with one hand as he holds the other with the dislocated finger in the air. His knees smack against the hard linoleum floor as he crumbles to the ground. And even though I don't know the man withering on the floor, I instantly know who he's with.

“Dimi? Why do you do this to me,” I groan, taking a second before pushing the privacy curtain open to find my favourite patient leaning against the far wall smiling at me.

“You are the only woman I know that fights dirty, Charlie. That makes three men now you've brought to their knees. I think I'm going to have to get you to train my new guys,” he chuckles.

He looks in perfect health as his suit and heavy coat hide any number of injuries waiting for me.

Tall, with dark hair and olive skin, he oozes control and dominance. Which causes almost everyone I’ve ever seen interact with him, to look away from the intensity of his glare.

“You couldn't afford me Dimi, and I don't like that you do that. What if one of them comes after me or something.” Imumble as I grab an instant ice pack and crack it, sloshing the liquid around as it starts to cool.

“You're safe. If anyone touches you, there are consequences,” he says sternly.

We silently stare at each other for a moment as his dominance remains unwavering and I feel pity for any person who decides to double-cross him. Giving up on our staring contest I hand the man who is now lying in the foetal position on the floor the ice pack, letting him know I’ll sort his finger once he’s feeling a little better, and return to the man currently smirking at me. Dimitriy Sokolov, heir to the Russian Mafia and a large pain in my ass.

“Okay, what happened this time? Show me,” I sass, placing my hands on my hips, waiting for whatever his latest wound is to reveal itself.

Removing his coat and suit jacket, I can immediately see the blood soaking through his black shirt from the way it sticks to his chest.

During one of our first interactions, he explained that his black suit hides blood better so he doesn’t ruin so many clothes. I just laughed and told him he was aJohn Wickwannabe before I got to work fixing his wounds. Ever since our first unexpected meeting, he always seeks me out if he’s been injured.

“Dimi,” I sigh, “you should be usingyourDoctor for this. It's so far out of your way to come here. It's ridiculous. You have a shallow wound across your chest that can be fixed by almost anyone on your medical team.”

I don’t know why I even bother to point out the obvious to him. Every time he comes in I say the same thing and every time he just stares at me, looking like a kid who has just been invited to his first birthday party.

“I need to grab a few things from the supply room, okay? Just stay here and try not to scare anyone else,” I say, exacerbated, knowing I need to tell him I’m leaving soon so he doesn’t terrorise any of the other nurses at the hospital if I just disappear.

Chuckling and holding his hands in the air like he's surrendering, he says, “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“That's a good boy,” I reply, winking at him, laughing as I open the door, calling back over my shoulder. “Oh, and take your shirt off completely. And try not to get blood anywhere, it took me forever to get it out of my hair last time.”

Getting the several things I need from the supply room, including a splint to fix the man's finger I dislocated, I see my boss hanging around the nurses’ station and take the moment I need to at least verbally hand in my resignation.

“Alan, hi, sorry to interrupt but some family things have come up and I’ll have to give you my notice, basically, effective immediately. Tonight will be my last shift.” I say, trying not to let him see how uncomfortable he makes me and wanting to get straight to the point.

“Charlie, I'm not sure if you're aware, but you can't just quit. You have contractual obligations. It would be hard for me to give you any sort of future reference if you were to just walk out on us,” he says, with a confident arrogance about him.

I knew he would do this.

Alan, my creepy boss, always makes things harder andalwaysunnecessarily touches you at some point when you’re talking with him.

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