Page 36 of Nest of Thieves
“The car?” she asks, pain pinching her features.
“Destroyed. Don’t worry about that. Relax. We’ll get you fixed up.” Much to my surprise, Jo listens. She closes her eyes and the tension bleeds from her body.
Good. She woke up, so that has to be a good sign, right?
Vette pulls through the electronic gate of our home and parks in the giant garage. My pretty lime green McLaren 570S sits untouched. The gleam of her glossy paint is begging to be caressed, but I’m the only one allowed to pet that sweet little baby. Vette parks the spare SUV where the Land Rover used to live. In total, there are nine cars in this garage. We each have three. One luxury sport, one truck, and one muscle car. The SUV we park in the Rover’s place is the tenth car, one we use for most business travel. That’s a lot of cars for three people, but why choose when you can have them all?
The doc meets us at the SUV with a gurney and his assistant. I carefully get out so they can help Jo out of the back seat and wheel her into the small medical room built next to the garage. With our business, we needed a permanent place for treatment. It would be suspicious to show up at the hospital riddled with bullets after a job gone wrong. Damien has a legit doctor on payroll. Well, he’s technically not legit since his license was revoked for performing open-heart surgery without the proper tools or schooling. His patient almost died and he went to jail for a few years. He also lost his license. He’s had all the required schooling, and while he may not be a surgeon, I’d trust him to dig bullets out of me.
If it ever came to serious surgery, I’d take possible jail time over dying at the doc’s unskilled hands.
The examination room is sterile and clean. A table covered with white plastic. Simple cabinets filled with supplies. Heart and blood pressure monitors. More medical supplies that you’d find in a hospital. The doc and his assistant transfer Jo from the gurney to the table. Vette drops into one of the chairs against the wall. Lark grabs his laptop from the bag that he always carries with him and sits. He sets to work erasing the evidence of our high-speed chase. I lean against the wall, too anxious to sit.
“What happened?” Doc asks me. His short, graying brown hair is precisely combed and styled. The wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose give him a snooty sophisticated look. It’s the tattoo on his wrist that throws off what he’s going for. The skull with the letters DC in the middle of it is a clear warning that Doc isn’t a squeaky-clean man.
“Car crash.” Jo winces when he touches the side of her head. “I almost lost them.”
“Almost?” I ask.
“Shut up,” she mumbles.
“You’re a beta?” Doc asks.
Jo sticks her hands behind her back, hiding her makeup-covered mark. “Yeah.”
I don’t correct her. Lying to him is easier than explaining that she is an omega. He could run a blood test on her to see what sort of drugs she’s on, but I don’t want him taking an interest. Once Doc takes an interest in her, he’ll tell Damien about her. Damien will want to meet her, and that’s never a good thing.
“Girlfriend?” Doc glances at me.
“A date. Nothing permanent.”
“Guess she won’t want a second date after the night she had with you,” he observes with a soft hum.
Jo chuckles. “I think you’re right.”
“Do you want to be stabbed?” I ask Doc as I look over Jo; her full lips are slightly parted as he cleans the wound. Yeah. I could definitely date her. It’s probably not the best time to be thinking about dating her, but she’s by far the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. She threatened to rip my toenails off. I’m a little disappointed she didn’t at least take one. I would have loved to see her reaction to hurting me.
“I’d like to take a blood sample.”
“Why?” I step toward the doc.
“Is something wrong?” Jo’s eyes widen.
He pauses with his fingers pressed against her throat, checking her lymph nodes. “No, no. I just like to have the blood.”
“That’s weird as fuck, Doc. She’s not sick.” I point to where he’s touching her. “Dress her wound. That’s all you’re here for.”
“How do you know she’s not sick if this is your first date?” The doc shines his light in her eyes, oblivious to how annoyed I am.
I take another step forward, but Vette’s hand slaps against my chest, forcefully pushing me back. He glares at Doc. Vette doesn’t need words to make his threats known. He’s not like me. He doesn’t toy with the people he wants to hurt. He’ll shoot them point-blank without blinking. I wasn’t going to kill Doc, but I might’ve stabbed him and that would have delayed Jo’s exam.
“Stop talking, Doc.” Vette shakes his head at me.
“Right.” Doc nods, quickly flicking his gaze to the gash on Jo’s forehead. He and the assistant gather the supplies they need to give Jo a few stitches.
Vette scowls at me. “You’re going to attack him for her?” He keeps his voice soft so they can’t hear.
“Tell me you’re not intrigued,” I challenge. I know him. So far, Jo is everything we could want in a mate.
