Page 15 of Any Means Necessary

I simply shrug, looking up at him expectantly. For someone who was in such a hurry three minutes ago, he doesn’t seem too rushed to move out of my room now. The look I flash him is full of expectation.

“Are we going, or did you make me get out of bed for nothing?”

He looks at me for a while longer, almost as if just to prove that he can. Finally, he steps back into the hallway and sweeps his arm out in a gesture for me to walk ahead of him.

“After you, Doc,” he murmurs, the nickname making me sigh in annoyance. But I relent and step out into the hallway anyway.

He walks closely behind me, almost too close. His tall frame towers over me, looming and crowding. Hyper aware of his proximity, I glance up at him in the elevator, my shoulder to his chest. There’s no way he means to stand so close to me, but something in his eyes when he looks down at me says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Nothing he does is by accident.

The private elevator opens up to the parking garage and I follow him to a car I’ve never seen before. This must be Callum’s car, a vintage number that looks like a classic muscle car from the 1970s. I fail to recognize the symbol on the back as he holds the passenger door open for me.

The engine rumbles, the only sound in the car as Callum navigates the city streets. This silence is giving my mind too much opportunity to form questions I don’t have answers to. Finally, I can’t help myself, not knowing is driving me crazy.

“Where are we going?” I look over at him, the passing city lights flashing across his strong features. The white of his shirt catches the light, emphasizing his broad solid frame filling the seat to capacity. He stares straight ahead at the road, not sparing me a glance when he responds.

“Not far.” He gives me nothing to work with.

“What kind of medical attention do they need?” I try again. The more time I have to prepare myself mentally, the better.

“You’ll see when we get there.” It’s a non-answer, really.

“Really? That’s all I get?” My tone tells him just how fed up I’m getting with all this. He seems completely unbothered by my growing annoyance.

“Your medical expertise is needed,” Callum says simply. “That’s all you need to know.”

Yeah, that’s not how it works. If he thinks this conversation is over, he’s dead wrong. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I doubt it’ll do any good to ask him. His lack of response almost keeps me from asking more questions. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his goal.

“If someone is sick, I’ll need specific medication. If they’re injured, I might need to stop for supplies.” I’m going to keep insisting until I get something out of the vault that is Callum Russo. But he doesn’t even flinch, simply tilting his head to look over at me lazily. Here we are, driving through the city in the dark of the very early morning because someone needs a nurse for a mysterious reason, and he’s acting like we’re running an errand.

“You’ll have what you need,” his assurance does nothing to convince me. But instead of bombarding him with the other million questions on the tip of my tongue, I simply close my mouth instead. There’s no point in wasting my energy trying to get answers he’s clearly not going to give me. The only sign that Callum notices my resignation is another half glance in my direction.

He wasn’t lying when he said we aren’t going far, the drive takes less than twenty minutes. Out of all the places my brain imagined we would end up, a nightclub wasn’t even on the list. Pulling up, the club lights are still on, but there’s no line in front of the door. Most clubs I know close around 3 am, which explains the lack of drunk partiers stumbling around the sidewalk.

“A club?” I ask, confused. “Why are we at a closed nightclub?” Parking right out front like a VIP, Callum shuts off the ignition and reaches for the door handle. Alarm bells ring in my head, anxiety clawing at me. Who could need medical attention in a nightclub that can’t go to the hospital?

“I’m not going in,” I say, my voice dripping with anxiety.

“Yes, you are.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Doc. It’d be too much of a waste.”

The promise does little to soothe the dread pooling in my stomach like a ball of lead. Clearly, I’m not being taken seriously. Instead, he’s climbing out of the car and leaving me alone in the terrifying silence. He circles behind the car, popping open the trunk momentarily, before slamming it shut. The passenger door swings open, and Callum stands expectantly, a large case in his left hand.

I look up at him from my place in the seat, every instinct in my body telling me not to step out of the safety of the vehicle. I highly doubt Callum would drive me all the way to a club to kill me. And seeing as he holds the literal keys to my only escape, I don’t really have a choice here.

“No one is going to hurt you, you have my word.” The conviction in his words matches the promise in Callum’s eyes, his right hand extending to me. I stare at it for a minute, warring with my anxiety, my gaze sliding up to meet his. I’m here now, there’s no way around it. So I accept his hand and allow him to help me out of the car. His hand releases mine to close the door behind me with a resounding click and moves to the small of my back.

“Here you go, Doc.” The case in his left hand lands heavily on the hood of the car. I lift my eyes to his face briefly, my tongue wetting my bottom lip in apprehension as I reach for the mystery case. His brows raise in a challenge, not offering any explanation. With hesitant hands, I unclip the top of the case and pull it open slowly. My jaw drops.

Calling this a medical kit is a gross understatement. This case contains everything I could ever need to provide proper medical care—gauze, suture kits, IV bags, sterile needles, local anesthetic, antibiotics, stimulants—it’s a damn hospital in a box. All that’s missing is the MRI machine.

My wide eyes search for his.

“Where did all of this come from?” There’s stuff in here that I can’t even find at the hospital. How did this man get vials of adrenaline? I’m at a loss here.

“I told you, you’ll have everything you need.” Reaching around me, he closes the case and locks it with a snap. “The man you’re here to see is inside.” With that, I’m being led through the front entrance of the quiet club.

The hazy, dimly lit interior is exactly how I expect it to be. A few stray workers are moving to clean up the leftovers of the patron’s poor decisions. The heavy aromas of sweat, alcohol, and smoke cling to the air as a reminder of the night’s lack of inhibition. I can see the door that leads out of the main room and back towards a more private area as we get closer. A sign reading ‘Private, no public access’ warns me that I’m about to leave any witnesses behind.

I’ve always scoffed at the dumb blonde sorority girls in horror movies when they hear a noise in the basement and decide to venture into the darkness in their underwear with nothing but a dim flashlight yelling ‘who’s there?’ Yet, here I am, allowing myself to be led into the dark with nothing but my scrubs and sarcasm to protect me. As good as a lamb to the slaughter, I might as well be wearing my underwear.

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