Page 11 of The Enforcer

“I have rounds.”

There was a fire in his eyes much like the night I’d almost met him. “I said sit.”

While I pulled the chair closer, I hesitated before sitting. “Do you always get what you want?”

“Generally, yes.”

I finally sat down, glancing at the monitors to ensure his blood pressure wasn’t increasing. “You lost a significant amount of blood. You’re weak.”

“I understand. My men told me.”

“Your men. Are they your bodyguards? They were certainly prepared to rough me up if necessary.”

His body tensed. “I apologize for their lack of humanity. They will be punished for accosting you.”

“Punished?” I didn’t usually roll my eyes, but his words almost made me laugh. Who did he think he was? “I assure you that if one or both had dared raise a hand to me, not only would they find themselves in a hospital bed, but after they healed, they’d be in jail.”

My words made him smile. Even in a hospital bed, the man oozed power. It would seem I’d been right in my assumptions that he was a dangerous man. While I should feel fear him, the woman inside of me only felt irritation. If there was one thing I hated, it was pompous bullies.

“Dr. Valencia Laurant. A beautiful name.”

“I think we can dispense with the compliments, Mr. Nomikos. Now, would you like to tell me what happened and how you ended up shot? That could help me determine how best to handle the rest of your treatment.” I don’t know why I chose to lie to him. Perhaps I was curious if he’d explain what had gone on since the two goons guarding him had said little to the police. That would likely become instant scuttlebutt within the hospital walls.

Even worse, it was apparent the cops had accepted the bullshit laid out on a silver platter.

Christos narrowed his eyes. The man was trying to determine if I was serious. “It’s best you don’t know. I also must impress on you that what you witnessed isn’t to be repeated to anyone, including to the cops or the press.”

My patience was wearing thin. “Mr. Nomikos. Let me make myself perfectly clear. I’m a doctor. A surgeon. I was attending at the time your friends brought you into the ER, which is likely what saved your life. I’m not in the business of pushing for anyone in law enforcement to be involved. That’s not my job. And we have strict laws within the country that prevent anyone from talking about the status of any patient. Period.”

He seemed to be somewhat amused by my vehemence. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

Why did I have a feeling that if I had seen anything, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it with anyone? The thought didn’t bring fear into my system. It brought anger.

I shoved it aside, reminding myself the man had been through a terrible ordeal. “Do you need anything?”

“Just your company. I enjoy seeing your face.”

“I did check on you several other times, but you were asleep. And I do have other patients.”

“I can have you assigned to only me.”

Anger was shifting into utter rage. “No, Mr. Nomikos. I don’t know who you think you are, but in this hospital, you are patient number nine hundred twenty seven. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Now he seemed slightly annoyed. “Why don’t you tell me.”

“It means you are nothing special to me or to any other member of our illustrious staff. However, we are here to ensure you heal. That will be done without interference including from the patient.” I was prepared to leave.

Christos shifted in the bed, trying to sit up. “Valencia.”

“No, you don’t.” I pushed him gently by the shoulders and the electricity I’d felt that night in the hotel returned. “You need your rest.” His tone, like his eyes, was much darker than before.

He wrapped his fingers around my hand, pulling my fingers to his mouth. I struggled at first, but his hold was an indication he could crush my fingers within seconds if he wanted. As he kissed my knuckles, I did my best not to react in any way. However,tingles were crawling down my spine. This wasn’t good. No, this wasn’t good at all.

I gently pulled my hand away, returning to the seat. I’d never felt quite so uncomfortable around a patient.

“I knew you were in the room. I gathered a scent of you,” he said, his gravelly voice having nothing to do with his condition. “You were concerned about me.”

“I’m concerned about all my patients and I don’t wear perfume when I’m at work.”

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