Page 8 of Bound to the Crime Lord

Ipressed down gently onto Allen’s stomach. He winced as soon as I made contact, and I smiled.

“What did we talk about, Allen? Did we not talk about a change of diet?”

“You want me to eat greens Julie,” the old man pouted. It was comical to see him acting like such a child in his old age. “How am I meant to survive on that vegan shit? Who even eats that?”

“I do,” I smirked, “and last I checked, I am alive and well.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You could die, Allen. Is that really what you want to happen?”

“I’m 85. I’ve lived long enough,” he huffed. “I would rather go out enjoying a good steak than munching on a damn carrot. Let me live, woman!”

The laugh forced its way past my lips before I could even stop it. I held onto the edge of the bed to keep myself from doubling over.

“You’re laughing, butyoutry those damned recipes you gave me. What the hell is imitation meat? That ain’t no chicken, Julie.”

Allen had to be one of my favorite patients. He had been in here a few times for gastrointestinal issues. We had discovered that not only was his cholesterol high, but he also had ulcers. They weren’t great diagnoses, but they weren’t life-threatening. With the right diet and exercise, he was well on his way to health.

The issue was that Allen was a boomer, and these boomers were a little too…well,Allen.

“Okay, how about we get you on a pescetarian diet? You would at least have access to fish, and you won’t just be eating veggies.”

He mused over what I had just said and nodded his head. “I’m going to trust you, beautiful. But if it’s shit again, expect to see me back here.”

“Of course, Allen,” I chuckled. “Let me go and write down your prescription, and I will send you your diet over email. Okay?”

“Okay.” I settled him back into the hospital bed. “As long as you don’t make me a damn rabbit, I’m happy.“

I walked out of Trauma One laughing. There was nothing quite like a consultation with Allen to lift my mood.

My days had been spent worrying about Ethan and how I was going to come up with the money to send him for treatment. I made a good enough living to survive, but that was as far as it went. Where was I going to pull out 100K+ from?

I handed Grace Allen’s chart and walked over to the computer to find the file I needed for his new diet. I did everything I needed to do and then logged out.

“You have another patient in trauma 1,” Grace handed me the chart. “But I need to warn you, this man is walking sex on legs, so be prepared.”

“Sex on legs? Really, Grace?”

She held up her hands and made the cross sign. “On my mama’s life, the man looks like he crawled out of aVogueshoot.”

I rolled my eyes and took the chart from her. Grace had a nasty habit of being a little too boy-crazy.

I walked into Trauma 1 flipping the chart open only to pause when I saw the name written at the top.

No.

I snapped my neck up to find the devil himself lying on the bed in a full suit, looking rather comfortable.

Manuel Gomez. The dashing Drug Lord of Chicago, the King of Darkness, as many in the streets had labeled him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to speak to a patient, doctor?”

I bit down on my tongue. I stomped my way into the room and came to stand by his bedside. I opened his chart and looked over his vitals, which were all completely normal.

I resisted the urge to throw something at his face and kept my composure.

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