Page 15 of Dr Feel Good
I was injured in the middle of nowhere with a man I didn’t know, Fendi was dead, Razor’s suitcase had been stolen after that motherfucker set us up, and I had no way to contact anyone about the turn of events. For some reason, I recoiled at the idea of Razor setting us up, even though the Femmes’ ambush was almosttooperfect. Either itwasa trap or there was a rat amid the Bastards or the Harlots.
“This is so fucking bad,” I said with a sigh, tipping my head back.
“The worst is over,” he said, mistaking my meaning. “The small caliber was your saving grace.”
I raised my head and glared at him. “Have you ever been shot?”
“I don’t lead a lifestyle that’ll lead to such an occurrence.”
“What—”
“I found your fucking weapons. A woman who isn’t a criminal wouldn’t walk around with an arsenal.”
“And here I was thinkingyoumight be the criminal.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” he sneered.
I flipped him off. “Since you’re such a paragon of society and have never been shot, shut the fuck up about luck. Bullet wounds fucking hurt.”
“You’ve been shot before.” He sounded appalled. “Of course you have.”
“Look, fuckhead, my medical history doesn’t matter. We’re talking about these wounds, not any other I might’ve had.” I’d admit to nothing. Fuck him. “Andthesehurt.”
“Lucky for you, I’m good at my job,” he drawled, his expression inscrutable. “If you want to leave, you must do what I say so you’ll heal completely. You survived the surgery, which is a miracle, considering what I had to work with.”
I considered my options and realized I had very few. I couldn’t even make it to the front door and see for myself if we were really snowed in. Worse, I was at his fucking mercy. So what if heseemedkind—sort of—but that could change if I upset him. Men were fickle beings, and the worst ones were often experts at hiding their assholery.
Drawing in a deep breath, I thought about what he said. “You a doctor?”
“I am,” he confirmed with a nod, standing straighter and holding out his hand. “I introduced myself before, but I suppose you don’t remember my introduction. To refresh your memory, I’m Dr. Felix Good. Typically, I’m a plastic surgeon, but this situation isn’t quite typical.”
He could say that shit again.
The corners of my mouth lifted, and I placed my hand in his. “No, it isn’t.”
I held the puns that could be made about his name to myself, even as Mötley Crüe’sDr. Feel Goodblared through my head.
“I’d like to know more about you, Ms.…?”
“I didn’t give you my name during our last introduction?”
“You cussed me out just for asking.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the revelation. He pursed his lips, clearly not finding it amusing.
“Athena,” I said, not trusting him enough to give him my real name.
His eyebrows rose. “Like…the goddess?”
“Is there another?”
“You, apparently. Though your vest had the same name, so I shouldn’t be shocked.”
“My cut,” I corrected with a frown. “Where’d you put it?”
“Laundry room, although I haven’t washed it–”
“And you won’t wash it, because that’ll fuck it up,” I snapped, annoyed that he’d touched it in the first place. “It’s real leather!”
