I liked the spot just fine too, but it had gotten awfully hot in the restaurant, and my new pink panties were noticeably wetter than when I first arrived. Gray did nothing untoward or inappropriate the entire meal, but I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t move his hand. In fact, he ate left handed. The idea that he didn’t want to let go of my leg had me feeling… giddy. It was a real first date—a restaurant, a dress—although we did have chaperones, including Quake. If they knew about the inappropriate hand placement under the table, they didn’t let on.
It was only when after our plates were cleared and Quake pulled up a chair, spun it around and sat down in it backwards at the end of the table, did Gray move his hand. It seemed neither of us wanted the distraction for whatever the man had to say.
“I heard someone is mad at you for not giving him drugs.”
Quake was looking at me and didn’t waste time by mincing words. Everyone else glanced at me as well. Drugs? Me? “What are you talking about?”
He rubbed a hand over his beard. “You work at the free clinic?”
I nodded. “On Saturday mornings, yes.”
“You prescribe pain meds?”
“Yes.”
Gray took my hand in his, gave it a squeeze.
“You’ve cut off someone’s supply, and they aren’t happy.”
My mouth fell open as I processed his words. “God, at first I thought you were accusing me of being a drug dealer, peddling meth on the street corner to little kids.” I sighed. “I write prescriptions for pain pills all the time. It could be any number of people.”
Quake tugged on the end of his beard as if it were something he did while thinking. “This person, I’ve found out, hurts women, so they’re seen at the clinic and get pain meds. Then keeps it for himself.”
“What does this have to do with Emory?” Gray asked.
“Rumor is they want her keys to the clinic to get more.”
I glanced at Paul and Christy, who were listening carefully, confusion and surprise on their faces.
“I can’t get into the meds,” I told him. “That’s not how it works. Most meds are filled at pharmacies. Some things we have, but the clinic has this big machine that requires a password. Each person has their own access number. It’s a big pill vault and has a computer connected to it to dispense only the number of pills in the order. It’s not like it gives me a bottle of Oxy, and I can take as many as I want. As for the people who want a key, there is no key.”
“There’s one in each department at the hospital as well. It’s strictly monitored and doesn't have all medications,” Christy added. “Like Emory said, the pharmacy in the basement has the bulk of the meds.”
I nodded at Christy's words. “It keeps nurses and doctors from stealing and keeps records of what goes in and out. Harder stuff is delivered direct from the hospital pharmacy. At the clinic, there are no serious meds like morphine because we'd transfer them to the ER if they were needed.”
“Then he just wants the prescriptions, most likely the women get them filled, and he takes the meds from them,” Quake said. From his tone, he didn’t sound happy. “Either way, you’ve cut off his supply… or one of them. Did you deny drugs to anyone recently?”
I thought back over the past month or so at the clinic then remembered the woman from last weekend. Broken rib. I’d given her a script for pain pills twice before, but that was more than enough for her recuperation time. Had this man broken her rib just so he could get the pain meds for himself? What was her name? Alice something.
“There was a woman last weekend,” I replied. “Broken rib and wanted more pain meds, but I didn't give her a refill. I can’t tell you her name. Confidentiality laws.”
Quake held up his hands. “I don’t need the name, just word that this scenario is possible. I’ll take care of this.”
I didn’t know how he’d take care of this. It most likely involved breaking laws and a bullet to the back of a head. I really didn’t want to know.
“If this guy’s been doing this for a while, he’s got to know we don’t have pills at the clinic. So why break into my house? I have nothing for him there.”
Quake shrugged. “I didn’t say this person was smart, just mad.”
“Have you told this to the police?” Paul asked Quake.
I leaned in. “Some dumb guy hooked on pain meds broke into my house and wanted to hurt me!” I kept my voice down but couldn’t keep the anger from it. It was my turn to grip Gray's hand. “I climbed down a Boy Scout ladder in my pajamas all because of pain med prescriptions?”
“We just met, so you don’t know my reach,” Quake continued.
Since he was the president of a motorcycle club, I had an idea.
“Your club donates to the clinic where Emory volunteers,” Christy said. All eyes turned to her in surprise. I didn’t know that little gem of information, and I worked at the place. “I’m Director of Community Relations at the hospital. I know all about this stuff.”
I used to work in administration but on a nursing level, not the same pay scale as Christy. It was news to me.
“My daughter went to the clinic for help when she thought she couldn’t come to me. Saved her life.” Quake cleared his throat and didn’t say more. I saw a glimpse of pain, a hint of softness beneath that hard exterior. He looked to me, those dark eyes shrewd and fierce. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”
“With all due respect,” Gray began, but Quake held up his hand to stop him.
“Your problem is keeping Emory happy. No one fu—screws with what’s under my protection. The club’s protection. He is my problem.”
By the look on his face now, the tone of his voice, I knew this was the real Quake Baker. He might have been older, he might have a grandson, but he was not someone I wanted to mess with. And with an entire MC behind him…
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“This… problem will be taken care of. Tonight.” His words were sharp and edgy. Lethal. “Stay with your man.” Quake indicated Gray with the tilt of his chin, and I flushed. “Have him take you to your yoga class in the morning then spend the day together. Forget about this. I’ll call when it’s over.”
Quake was serious. If it had been anyone else, I’d have laughed. Gray lived in a darker world than me, knew how to fight, knew men who liked to fight. He wasn’t laughing either but instead leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and narrowed his eyes.
“Not a chance. I’m going with you.” When Quake was about to speak, Gray pushed on. “You didn’t see the flimsy ladder she tossed out her window to escape. You didn’t hear her on the phone when she was hiding from the guy. You didn’t have to drive across town to get to her. I’d never felt more helpless in my life knowing someone was after her, and I couldn't protect her.” With every word his jaw clenched tight, his body tensed, his voice turned dark.
I melted a little inside at the thought of what Gray had gone through when I’d called him. I couldn’t imagine a similar phone call and not want to seek retribution.
“I want to know this man’s off the streets.” Gray sat back, put his arm along the back of my chair, and I felt his thumb stroke over my back. Even with all his obvious hostility, the touch was gentle.