Page 26 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hemlock smirked thinking how things between him and Charlie had settled into a routine.

It was kisses in passing, winks and smiles while watching TV.

But at night when the house was quiet, they wrapped themselves up in each other.

He loved how she snuggled up on the sofa next to him.

How she wasn’t afraid to argue her point or laugh at him when he did something dumb.

Late at night when they went to bed, they were careful navigating the relationship.

Neither wanting to make things awkward by labeling what they were.

He’d hoped Sherlock could get him some info on his late-night visitor.

There wasn’t enough on the surveillance to give them anything.

Hemlock brushed it off as a random thief looking for loose change or small electronics they could steal.

Charlie wasn’t so sure. She thought it was Crispen and Ashley.

Without proof, they couldn’t do anything about it.

Closing the patient file he had been updating, Hemlock set it on the counter. Checking if there were any other patients, he found out the clinic was quiet for the time being. Wanting to get off his feet for a bit, he headed for an empty office.

Limping down the clinic’s corridor, Hemlock ducked into one of the clinic’s offices.

Settling into a chair, he rested his aching foot on the desk, trying to get some relief.

It hadn’t helped that he not only hadn’t stopped riding his bike—he’d been on it for sixteen hours and was ready to be finished for the day.

The problem was the older doctor had called off once again.

Instead of bothering Razor to come in early, Hemlock had seen to the patients.

“How’s the foot?” Lottie asked as she walked into the office.

Without opening his eyes, Hemlock told her the truth, “Hurts like a bitch.”

“Are you making sure it’s not getting infected?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

She wanted to thump him on the foot for being a shit, but a guy like Hemlock was almost like lighting a firecracker.

The fuse could be faulty and go off instantly in your hand.

Or it could be a dud, and nothing happened.

Deciding it was the day to take the risk, she commented on Hemlock’s sour mood, “Someone’s bitchy today. ”

“Sorry.” Hemlock moved to set his feet down.

Cocking her head, Lottie stared at Hemlock then at his foot now resting on the floor. “Let me take a look at the foot.” She shrugged casually.

He appreciated the offer, but he didn’t want more than one person touching the damn thing. “Razor’s coming to do just that.”

“Fine, don’t let me look at it,” Lottie joked with him.

“Lottie.” Razor stood in the doorway watching the interaction between his brother and the woman he craved. He saw the death stare she gave him and ignored it.

“Hemlock doesn’t deal with pain well. He tends to lash out.” He watched Lottie step back and snickered.

“Don’t listen to Razor.” Hemlock glared at Razor. “He just doesn’t want you touching me.”

Watching Lottie leave the room, Hemlock gave Razor a shitty grin. “Told you don’t mess with me, brother.”

“You forget I can cause you lots of pain.” Razor sat down on a rolling stool and moved towards Hemlock. “What time did you come in tonight?”

“Try eight a.m.” He saw Razor’s eyes go furious. “Dr. Primo called off. Again.”

“Something has to give,” Razor grumbled, pissed the older doctor had once again not showed for his shift.

How did he not realize Hemlock had been there all damn day?

When Lottie ducked back in setting down a tray of medical utensils, he knew the answer to that question. He was distracted by his nurse.

Hemlock knew his brother was tired of the older doctor and wanted in on the clinic. If he could get Razor to let him come on as a full-time nurse practitioner, he could cut his hours at the hospital. “You do know with my license I can treat patients on my own.”

“Mmmhmm.” Razor had heard Hemlock, but didn’t want to saddle the kid with being strapped to the clinic full time.

They weren’t making a ton of money. Hell, they barely made payroll.

It wasn’t like all their patients had medical insurance.

And they didn’t turn away those who couldn’t pay.

Lately it seemed more and more weren’t able to pay.

If Razor didn’t know better, he would think the books were being cooked.

But none of them were struggling. At least not enough to steal from the clinic.

“Take your shoe off so I can take a look at your foot. Then you’re going home. ”

Hemlock had started taking off his boot when his phone rang. “One second, Razor. Hemlock took his phone from his pocket and noticed it was Charlie calling him. “Hey.” He heard the stark panic in her voice as she rattled off a string of intangible words. “Slow down, Charlie. I can’t understand you.”

“Someone threw a brick through the front window,” she said and was trying to control her panic as she blurted out what happened in a rush.

“Charlie, slow down, I can’t understand what you’re saying?”

With tears running down her face, Charlie sat with her back to the headboard staring at the bedroom door. More so, the doorknob in case it turned. “Someone threw a brick through the window downstairs’,” she repeated.

“Where are you now?”

“Locked in the bedroom.”

Snapping his fingers he got Razor’s attention, who was already on his phone. “I’m on my way. Don’t touch the brick and call the cops. Wait, don’t call the cops.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t call the cops. I’ll call them when I get there.

” The last thing he needed would be some cop snooping around his house while he wasn’t there.

After all, they already knew he had a pellet gun, and that would be enough for them to get nosey.

“I’m calling the clubhouse. Someone will be there soon.

” Hemlock saw Razor pointing at his own phone.

“Truck and Vicious are on their way there now. ETA five minutes,” Razor informed him, which Hemlock relayed to Charlie as he headed for the door.

“Stay on the phone with me.”

Could they get through more than a week without something bad happening? First it was the tire being slashed, then the mystery person messing with his rides. Now, some asshole had thrown a fucking brick through his window. What was next?