Page 87 of The King of Hearts (The Raven Group #1)

Trouble

Twenty-Three Years Later

I STAND IN FRONT OF THE window in my office, my arms tightly crossed over my chest, body tense, and my jaw cramping from grinding my teeth together.

I watch as Sheriff Ward tugs Gary Watters out of the back of the cruiser.

Seeing the wince on Watters face when the Sheriff wrenches his cuffed hands up his back a little higher than necessary does nothing for the violent rage forming in the pit of my stomach.

I force myself to stay in place when I want nothing more than to storm across the street and end the sick bastard’s sorry life.

It’s nothing less than what he deserves and more than what he would receive under normal circumstances.

It’s ironic, because in my line of work I save lives, but the man I see being marched up the steps to the Sheriff’s office is one who has no business walking this earth. He’s lower than dirt and needs to be put down.

Two days ago, ten-year-old Brittney Watters was in school when her teacher noticed her walking funny.

When she pulled her aside to ask if her she was okay, the little girl became terrified.

It took the guidance counselor, the principal, and her teacher forty minutes to calm her down enough to get the truth out of her.

Gary Watters had raped his ten-year-old daughter the night before.

Once that dam broke, a whole flood of information came from Brittney.

That night wasn’t the first time he had violated her little body.

It was just one of the more brutal ones that she wasn’t able to hide.

Brittney informed them that she thought it was normal for her daddy to touch her, that he had done it ever since she could remember, and that he told her it was how daddies showed their little girls that they loved them.

He also told her that she couldn’t tell anyone because other girls might get jealous and try to steal him away from her and her little brother.

Her brother, Jacob, was four-years-old, and yes, the sick fuck touched him too.

The Sheriff was called in immediately, and it was him who brought Brittney to my office to be examined.

Malus, Texas is a small town with the biggest nearby city over sixty miles away.

I’m the only physician around for just as many miles.

Since the situation was delicate, and not wanting to terrify her even more so by a man examining her, I had my nurse practitioner, Susan, do it.

Susan’s very soft-spoken with kids, so she was able to make the little girl comfortable enough to look her over and assess the extent of damage done to her.

The report sits on my desk, and every time my eyes light on it, I want to destroy something—namely the man who hurt her.

We do things differently in Malus. If this had happened anywhere else, the Texas State Police would have been brought in and they would have taken Watters into custody.

Brittney and her brother would have also been taken by the State until another family member could be notified to care for them.

If none came forward, they would be put in foster care.

In Malus, we take care of our own business, and fuck any outsiders. That’s why the crime rate here is damn near non-existent.

There’s a knock on my door and Susan peeks her head in, “Mrs. Tanner is here for her two o’clock.”

Without turning from the window, I inform her, “Put her in room two. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Already done. She should be ready for you in a moment.”

I grunt, then hear the door close as Susan leaves.

I keep my eyes facing the window. Even though I can no longer see Watters, I still stare daggers at the small building across the street.

Like I can kill him by simply looking through the brick structure.

If only it were that simple. Actually, no.

That’s too easy. The man deserves to suffer.

I turn away and walk over to my desk just as my cell phone rings. Taking a seat, I swipe my finger across the screen to accept the call, making sure to avoid looking at Brittney’s file.

“Day and time?” I bark.

“Six o’clock, Thursday evening,” the deep voice responds.

“Was the other situation taken care of?”

“Yes. I spoke with him this morning. He should be back tomorrow.”

“Wish I had been there,” I mutter darkly into the phone.

“You and me both, brother.”

“I want in on the next one.”

“You got it.”

Anticipation fills me at the prospect, but I push down the excitement.

Soon , the voice in my head whispers.

I pull a file in front of me and flip it open. “I’ve gotta go. Keep me updated if any problems arise.”

“Got it. Later.”

The line goes dead, and I look down at the top sheet of paper in the file.

Amelia Tanner, my two o’clock, is here for her annual exam.

For the first time since I received my medical degree, the sexually disturbed part of my brain doesn’t trigger.

It’s a part I’ve forced myself to ignore for years.

My field of expertise isn’t psychology, but even I know the vulgar part of my psyche that gets aroused from touching my female patients stems from my disturbing childhood.

On the outside, I’m very clinical and professional with my patients.

I’ve never touched them inappropriately or taken advantage of them in any way.

What they don’t know is, on the inside, my mind is going wild with sexual fantasies of touching them.

They don’t know my body tightens with need, or that my dick gets so hard I could hammer nails into concrete with it.

It’s a secret only my brothers know about, because the last thing I want is to make my patients uncomfortable.

Maybe I shouldn’t have a career in the medical field, and my license would probably be revoked if the medical board found out about my perverse cravings, but I love my profession.

Not because of those cravings, but because I genuinely enjoy what I do.

I like helping people. It’s challenging and the rewards of solving medical problems and creating a plan of care or showing them how to manage is extremely rewarding.

It also gives me control. Malus is mine and my brother’s town. We own it, along with the people who live here. It’s been that way since we moved back to town ten years ago. We’ve made it what it is today, which is much more than what it was when we got here.

I close the file, picking it up as I get to my feet. Mrs. Tanner’s had enough time to strip down and don the paper gown we provide our patients to cover themselves with. Walking out of my office, I see Susan waiting for me outside of room two.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes.”

I tap a couple of times on the door as a warning before pushing it open.

Amelia Tanner, a woman in her late twenties, sits on the end of the bed with her hands placed in her lap and her socked feet crossed at the ankle.

The paper gown she’s wearing on the top half of her body crinkles as she moves when Susan and I enter.

I offer a smile. “How are you today, Mrs. Tanner?”

“Just peachy.”

“Are you ready?”

She laughs nervously. “Is any woman ready to have her privates looked at clinically?”

I chuckle and turn to the sink to wash my hands, throwing over my shoulder, “I guess not.” I grab a paper towel. “Do you have any concerns you need to discuss with me?”

“Not today.”

I nod, toss the paper towel in the trash, and walk over to her. “You know the drill. Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll get the breast exam out of the way first?”

She does as I ask, and before I can prompt her, she lifts her arms over her head. I grab the opening of the gown and pull the pieces apart until her chest is in view. I wait for the usual tingle I get in the base of my spine from seeing a woman’s breasts, and it comes right on cue.

“Sorry if my hands are cold.”

She smiles then stares at the ceiling as I gently massage circles on each breast, ignoring the stirring in my body.

“Are you doing self-exams every month?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes.”

I close the gown back over her chest. “Everything is good here. No lumps or malformations.”

I step back as she sits up. She scoots her butt down to the end of the bed, knowing what’s coming next, and her feet move to the stirrups. I wash my hands again and slip on a pair of gloves.

“A couple more inches, Amelia,” I tell her as I take a seat on a stool and roll closer to the end of the bed. There’s a sheet still covering her lower half. Susan pushes a small cart with the tools I need closer to me.

I take the end of the sheet and push it up over her knees. The first sight of her spread out in front of me, her rosy cunt lips on display, has me wanting to lick my lips. I look past the deliciousness and check her labia for any lesions.

My mind attempts to turn to dirty thoughts, like leaning forward and breathing in Amelia’s musky scent, but I’m able to change the direction of them by asking her, “How are you feeling since you started taking those vitamins I suggested at your last visit?”

“Much better actually. Even Danny says my energy level has increased.”

I grab the speculum and lubricant from the cart beside me. “There’s gonna to be a bit of pressure, Amelia. Just take a deep breath for me.”

Inserting the speculum, I advance it so her inner walls widen enough for me to collect a sample against her cervix.

“How is Danny, by the way?”

She clears her throat before answering. “He’s good. Just got a raise at the bank.”

“I bet that’ll come in handy. Almost done.”

I set the cervical brush in the sample pot before gently pulling the speculum out.

My eyes linger a fraction of a second longer than necessary before I pull the sheet down to cover Amelia.

She immediately takes her feet from the stirrups and sits up.

Her face is flushed. I get up and turn away to deposit my gloves in the trash, giving myself a minute for my body to wilt.