Page 24

ELEVEN

DYNAMITE

MAGNOLIA

“ S omething is wrong with you.”

I slowly look up from my coffee with a frown, then arch a brow at Evie. “Hey there, pot, I’m kettle.”

”We got jokes this morning? Dad jokes at that?” Eve grabs the coffee out of my hands, sniffs it then goes to the fridge to add creamer because now it’s her coffee. “Must have seen Donovan recently.”

I did, actually. I saw him and Dolly both yesterday to review med inventory again because it’s still not quite right. Which is odd.

It’s more than odd, it’s a problem because it means someone has been taking stuff from the locked med closets on all three wards, but it’s what’s been taken that’s strange.

Metoclopramdine. Losartan. Amitriptyline, and Lithium.

Why would anyone steal something for acid reflux and blood pressure?

Or an antidepressant and mood stabilizer?

Especially here, where everyone has access to a doctor who could prescribe whatever medication was needed for those conditions.

Not to mention, the doses are minimal if it’s supposed to last someone an entire month.

It’s a bizarre combination of things but the general consensus is that it might be more than one person.

I have a hard time believing even one person might steal from the asylum let alone two.

At least up on Ward C. Not the staff that work with Isaak and I.

They’re good people, we trust them, but even if we didn’t, we have access to their medical records to check their scripts and conditions.

Plus, anyone who works at Blackhurst is subject to drug screenings at least once a month, more if we think we need it and it’s now biweekly because of all the shortages.

They’re considering searching people when they clock out for the day but with the security scans and everything, they’re waiting for more of a solid reason for the time being.

I think it’s someone who delivers the meds.

Not one single member of Blackhurst Ridge’s staff has popped for anything they don’t have current prescriptions for.

The cameras on the card readers and in the hall outside of the med closets haven’t picked up anything suspicious.

It’s always the same doctors and nurses who’ve always had access, no changes there at all. It’s weird.

”See!” Evie points a finger in my face as she leans against the counter next to me. “Something is wrong with you.”

”You’re ridiculous.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe, but you’re the one who’s done nothing but space out every time we talk over the last few months.”

”That’s not completely out of the norm for me, Eve.” It’s not, but I have to admit, to myself, not her, I’m a lot more distracted than usual. There are four very good reasons for it but I’m not ready to talk about that.

”Norm or not, it’s more. It’s intense. And you’ve started picking at your cuticles again.”

Sometimes I hate how well she knows me.

As soon as I found out about Camden, I started tearing my cuticles to shreds.

It was a nervous habit I thought I’d broken when I was a kid. One I was forced to break because my mother wouldn’t have my hands looking like they went through a meat grinder . So, the habit died right along with the last threads of my self confidence, and it wasn’t an issue for years.

Not even when Evie and I applied for off site housing. I still didn’t fall back into that despite the anxiety I had over moving out of my parent’s house and blowing part of my contract open, but that was before I knew my fate.

My father announcing that I’m going to be bound to that creep made me start all over again, to the point where I was almost biting my nails, too.

Oddly enough, it stopped happening when we started moving, when I was running around behind the Dean’s back, and it hasn’t been a thing since working on Ward C.

Probably because fighting for myself a little bit and winning a few of the smaller battles gave my confidence a boost and I wasn’t completely letting everyone walk all over me.

I hadn’t even noticed I started again, honestly, but that’s not surprising since I’m checked out most of the time.

Because I’m pretty sure I found my scent matches.

Leave it to Evie to notice.

But I don’t want to get into that, which is why I grab her free hand and hold it up in front of her face. “You don’t exactly have room to talk.”

“It’s not the same, Maggie.” She snatches her hand away then holds it in front of her, flexing her fingers slowly, watching the cuts on her knuckles open and close. “I’m not chewing through my skin because I’m anxious and spacey.”

“No, you find other ways of dealing with those things that are extremely sketchy and would send your dad into outer space if he knew about them.” I roll my eyes as she scowls. ”I don’t want to get into this, Eve. I’m just tired, okay?”

My best friend gives me a look like I’m full of shit but doesn’t say anything else. She knows it won’t get her anywhere, and we’ll just go round and round until one of us storms out of here pissed off.

Something neither of us want right now since Camden is sticking his nose in my business all of the sudden and we can both be mad at him instead.

”How are things on Ward B going?”

Evie scoffs at my subject change then sighs. “Boring.”

”Really?” I giggle. “How is anything boring at the asylum?”

”For starters, they took Calix St. James and gave him to you guys. He was half the reason I agreed to Ward B. His many escapes kept everyone busy.”

Ignoring the blush I can feel staining my cheeks, I ask, “And there isn’t one single patient down there who comes close?”

”Not really. I mean, I can see how we’re helping people, I just thought there’d be more action.”

”There isn’t any on Ward C, either. It’s pretty quiet considering who’s up there.” And I wouldn’t notice anyway because I’m obsessed with four of them. I miss a lot because of that. “That nurse your brother dumped on us is a real piece of work, though.”

Evie gives an over exaggerated shudder and rolls her eyes. “Quimby Jones. The sadist from the south side.”

” Quimby ?” I ask. “His first name is Quimby?”

”Yep.” She nods. “Carter wanted me to try dating him.”

”Really? When the hell was that?”

”The summer you went with Donovan and his clan to Vermont.” She finishes my coffee and sets the mug in the sink. “Byron allowed you to see if you matched with a Ridgeway, and Carter tried to get me to match with a cyborg.”

I snort and shake my head.

Nurse Jones definitely could pass for part robot.

He has no personality, compassion, or understanding of what we’re doing on the top floor.

He keeps referring to the residents as prisoners , dogs or psychos despite being corrected multiple times.

He calls med time feeding time . Almost all of the alphas on our staff are married and bonded, which is a huge part of keeping two omega doctors safe, but that doesn’t stop Jones from hitting on all of them constantly, and I’ve seen him corner a couple of the unmated ones when he didn’t think anyone was looking.

I was, and I called him on his shit.

Jones didn’t care for that but he must have instructions from Camden to listen to me to some extent. Either that or he knows I’m a key player in his master plan and won’t fuck with me because of it.

Either way, I’m glad he doesn’t snap back at me. I’m not sure what would happen if he did, especially in front of our residents.

It’s funny Evie thinks my father let me go on vacation with her uncle and his family to see if I matched anyone.

Then again, I never told her the full extent of what actually happened.

She’s my best friend and knows everything about me, but that was something I haven’t talked about because of how Eve would react.

My mother essentially sold my virginity with the option to force a bond.

I was twenty at the time and hadn’t been pure for a few years but she didn’t know that.

Since she assumed I had even less of a chance at finding someone who might actually want to be with me than my father—who contractually bound me to an asshat—I was up for grabs.

Apparently I went for thirty-five thousand dollars.

I had no idea what she was doing, or that she’d done it. Not until an alpha in his mid-fifties showed up to our house, was given access to my bedroom, and attempted to take what he was owed right there on the floor because I fought back.

By some stroke of luck, Donovan’s oldest son, Zep, and his mate stopped by to pick up my parent’s donation for some fundraiser the Ridgeways were organizing and as soon as I heard the doorbell, I started screaming bloody murder.

They beat the shit out of the buyer then packed me up and took me to their place, then kept me almost the entire summer because my parents are horrible.

Donovan lost his shit on my father, who in turn lost his on my mother, and that’s when she found out about the Camden clause.

Is that something I could have told Eve about without her being anything but the amazing supportive bestie she’s always been?

Absolutely. I didn’t, though. Maybe it was shame and embarrassment, maybe it was fear, but that’s something only the parties directly involved know, and I’ve kept it that way for seven years.

It would hurt Evie to know I haven’t told her something so big but I know she’d get over it. The problem is, she’d get over it, then she’d go beat the hell out of my mother, threaten to shank my father, and probably hunt down that alpha.

She doesn’t need any of that.

It’s all in the past now, and not worth her time and energy.

Besides, Evie didn’t tell me about her rendezvous with Quimby Jones, and judging by the way she lost her sense of humor over it, there’s more to that secret than she’s willing to share. I don’t need her to say anything more for me to read that all over her face.

One day.

One day, when we’re free and happy and our fathers are dead, we can tell each other everything without worrying about prison time.

”Were you expecting company?”