Page 2 of Save Me

“There was some.” A small amount had been on his clothes the next day.

After another long pause, Gio coughed. “Well, I’ve kept you long enough. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“I do!” he said gratefully.

“Where are you heading to next?”

“Back to Boston,” he said, checking the impulse to thank Gio for his time. It hadn’t been a job interview.

Gio nodded at him. “Buon viaggio.”

“Thank you,” he said, escaping gratefully. He was down the hall before his heart slowed.

He hadn’t had to confront his past in some time. Down in the lobby, he asked the doorman to flag down a taxi for him. He staggered into it, throwing his bag on the seat next to him. After giving the driver directions to the airport, he slumped back in the seat, watching the city slip by.

More than two years had passed since the night Gio had referenced. After making a splash in his surgical residency, Eric had moved home to Vegas to care for his ailing mother. After she had passed, he’d stayed on because he liked the hospital he was working at. It had been a huge mistake.

His problem wasn’t alcohol. It was the poker tables.

After the grinding shifts at the hospital, he started joining coworkers at the casinos to unwind. And then he started going by himself. When he had a good night he’d go to a club to celebrate. That was where he’d met Andie.

She was working at Calen McLachlan’s club Lynx as a waitress to put herself through school. A light flirtation had turned into a blistering affair. They saw each other for months, whenever he could pull himself away from the poker tables.

The gambling had consumed him. His work had suffered, mainly because he started missing shifts. In the end, that had been a blessing. Trying to perform surgery after staying up all night would have been a disaster, so he didn’t do it. He’d been careful to get someone to fill in at first, but his good manners and conscientiousness eroded as his addiction tightened its grip.

The hospital had no choice. When they’d finally fired him he’d gone to Lynx to drown his sorrows. The next thing he knew he was waking up with a splitting headache in the manager’s office. The head of security, a huge burly guy Andie had pointed out to him, had been staring down at him with his arms crossed.

“Am I in trouble?” Eric asked.

“Not exactly.” Mike Ward had laughed after introducing himself.

“Why is there blood on my shirt?”

“Because you cut a man’s neck open last night.”

“What?”

Mike uncrossed his arms. “Some stupid frat kids were daring each other to see who could swallow the most ice cubes whole. One of them started choking. Our on-call doctor tried to trach him, but he was shaking like a leaf. He was botching the thing when you pushed him out of the way. I was going to stop you, cause you were obviously piss drunk, but once you got the knife in your hand the damnedest thing happened. It was like you were instantly sober. The boss said it must have been muscle memory.”

“I have done it a few times before in the ER,” he admitted.

“Good thing, because you did it too fast for us to stop you.” Mike said, handing him a can of soda. “Sorry, the coffee machine is in the boss’ office. It’s upstairs if you want some.”

It was the offer of coffee that made him relax. They weren’t going to sue him for practicing drunk. He could lose his medical license—and he would deserve it. He had no business treating anyone in that condition.

His relief was short-lived. “The boss wants a face to face,” Mike informed him. “He’ll see you here this evening, Dr. Tam.”

Eric froze. The mobster knew his name. “Calen McLachlan wants to meet me?”

Andie had told him all about the man who owned the club. He’d thought it was amusing that her boss was the son of a notorious gangster. Well, it wasn’t funny anymore.

Mike had given him a small amused smile. “At nine tonight. Don’t be late.”

“I might have to work tonight.”

“No you don’t.”

“Um…”

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