Page 28

NATALIA

I blinked into the dark, groaning as the glow of my screen lit the nightstand. It was nearly 3 a.m. I fumbled to answer my phone, already feeling anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach.

“Hello?”

“Miss Ramirez,” came the familiar gravelly voice of my boss, Dr. Hensley. “I need you at the clinic. Now.”

His tone was sharp. No greeting and no explanation.

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Doctor, it’s the middle of the night. I have a child that’s sleeping. Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s urgent. No time to explain. Just get here.”

The line went dead, andI stared at the phone for a second, my eyes still blurred from sleep. Hensley wasn’t a model citizen, and the nurses who worked at the clinic knew he had his secrets. There were rumors of quiet surgeries in the middle of the night, untraceable prescriptions, men with bloody knuckles showing up through the back door and leaving without ever signing a form. But this… this was different.

I slid out of bed and quietly padded barefoot to Gabriel’s room. My little boy was curled up, fast asleep, one arm clutching his favorite stuffed toy. I leaned over him and kissed his forehead, sweeping the curls off his cheek. They were as wild and soft as his father's.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered.

Grabbing a pen and paper, I scribbled a note and left it on his nightstand.

Gabe, baby, I had to go to work. Call me when you wake up. I’ll be at the clinic.

I locked the door behind me, tugging my coat tight against the slight chill in the air. The streets were quiet, a little too quiet, as I drove toward the clinic. My mind ran in circles, wondering what could possibly be so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my nerves were a tight coil in my stomach. I parked near the side entrance and barely had time to shut off the engine when the low rumble of a motorcycle split the silence.

I turned just as headlights cut through the dark. The bike skidded to a stop beside me.

Knuckles .

And behind him, barely clinging to life, was Tick Tock.

The second Knuckles tried to help him off the bike, Tick Tock slumped to the ground.

I cried out and rushed to him, hands trembling as I reached out, but the doctor was already there, pushing past me with a wheelchair, barking orders I couldn’t make out over the roaring in my ears.

I was in shock as I stood in the middle of the street not knowing whether to run or hide. Knuckles looked at me and the look of recognition in his eyes made my heart sink.

I didn't wait to hear what he had to say, I ran past him and into the clinic, focusing on my job.

I fell in stride beside the doctor as two orderlies grabbed Tick Tock and slid him onto a gurney. Blood dripped from beneath the leather jacket and my fingers fumbled with the zipper before carefully easing it off his blood-soaked body. My hands shook as I folded it and placed it gently on the counter. It still smelled like him, tobacco, leather, and the faintest trace of that cologne I loved on him.

I swallowed hard and maintained focus. Grabbing the scissors, I got to work cutting open his shirt, revealing the mess beneath. Blood pooled around a deep wound on his side, another on his shoulder. He was bleeding out fast. His skin was pale, his heart rate dangerously low.

"You don't get to die on me," I whispered to him as I inserted the needle into his arm, setting up a central line.

The doctor scrubbed in quickly, but I was already at work, gloves snapped on, suction in hand, gauze ready.

I’d trained in L.A. as a surgical nurse, and at that moment, every ounce of that training surged forward. My hands moved without hesitation, instinct guiding every motion. Dr. Hensley watched me with something like approval on his face.

“Good,” he muttered. “Very good. Keep pressure there. Hand me the clamp.”

I followed every instruction without question, pushing the emotions down, locking them behind my ribs like a cage. I had to. This wasn’t about the past. This was about keeping him alive.

Still…every now and then eyes fell on his face. He'd gotten older, lines had formed along the edges of his eyes and forehead. He looked rougher in all the ways that made my heart ache.

I tried not to notice how his lips were still full, how his jawline was still perfectly cut. I tried not to remember the feel of that mouth on mine, of those hands gripping my thighs, of his voice whispering my name when he emptied himself inside me.

I hated him for what he did, but I hated myself more for still wanting him.

When it was finally over, the wound stitched and sealed, he was taken away by the night shift nurse.

I stood there, blood on my scrubs, the weight of the last hour crashing down on me.

Dr. Hensley clapped me on the shoulder. “You helped save his life. Go home and get some rest.”

I nodded, the numbness beginning to take over. I suppose that was better than the fear and anxiety of remembering Knuckles face as he saw me.

Not wanting to be seen again. I quickly and quietly left through the back door, as it slammed shut, the sound jolted my nerves.I took two steps into the dark alley before the dam broke.

I collapsed against the wall, sobbing into my hands as tears streaked down my cheeks.

I’d saved the man who destroyed me and the worst part of it all was that I had come to the realization that I still loved him.