Page 40 of Vegas Daddies

My heart stopped.

The thought of another man putting his hands on her…

“Dr. Miller?” calls one of the nurses.

I turn around and stuff the phone back into my pocket. Phones are prohibited out on the floor, but Nurse Shelly keeps her mouth shut. The only time she opens it is to compliment my hair.

“Yeah?”

“The patient is okay. We managed to bring him back.”

“Amazing. Good work.”

She goes to turn away but falters in her step. “Who’s Alice?”

I purse my lips and attempt to string together a sentence. Do I tell her about the blonde baddie I can’t stop thinking about, justfor her to relay the gossip to all of her nurse friends in the staff room? “Get back to work, Shelly.”

I enter through the double doors back into the resus room to assist moving the patient onto another bed. The ICU will be his home for the time being. Maybe Alice will even care for him.

Alice.Alice. Alice. Alice.

Five letters and I’m melting like ice cream in the desert. Since last night, none of us have spoken to her. She was working the afternoon-late shift. I checked her schedule on the system. Her car, registered on the system to an Alice Dyson, license plate 247-X41, showed that the vehicle was on the top level of the inpatient parking garage. Andshe drives a white Mercedes.

Either she hoards money, or the ICU pays better than I thought.

Nurses out of the room, I slip out my phone again and pull up the group chat.

Only Brander picks up.

“Get your ass to the hospital immediately. Tell Match to get his here too.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Alice.”

A name drop and dramatic hang-up will have them racing over here in no time. In the meantime, I need to locate a private room.

I swoop in behind the reception desk and flash my teeth at Sandra.

“Dr. Miller. What mischief are you causing today?”

Wouldn’t you like to know?

“I require a room, a private one, if you can be so kind and work your magic.”

She taps away on the keyboard. Two seconds later: “Room zero-fifty-two.” She slides open a drawer and reaches over the desk to hand over the key. “Who’s the lucky lady today?”

The luckiest,I feel like saying, but it’s quite the opposite.

Once,I hooked up with a girl in a private room two years ago, so the woman assumes sex is the only thing I do in them now, rather thanmy job. She was called Cait—the best blonde I met before Alice—and her short-term agency contract meant we could have some fun, no strings attached.

Except strings are very much still attached to the ER receptionists.

I pace down the corridor and unlock the room. It’s airy, cold, and a single bed with fresh linen bedding makes it very tempting to crash and take a nap.

Instead I perch on the end of the mattress and take out my phone to text Brander and Match the room number.

Incoming call from Alice

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