Page 4 of Of Murder and Matrimony

The little girl nodded and hopped down from the exam table.

I left the room, closed the door softly behind me, and found my nurse on the way to my office. “Sally, I’m going to print out post-visit instructions for Emmy. Grab them, will you?”

“Got it, Doc.” She shot me a thumbs up before dashing down the hall to the nurse’s station.

I selected the instructions from a generic template and made a few changes specific to Emmy before sending them to the printer. The unexpected patient had been my last for the day and the work week, and I breathed a sigh of relief. A full moon always brought in more illnesses and injuries. I expected to field calls throughout the night and the weekend.

A tap on the doorframe drew my attention, and I found Jason, my fiancé, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His wavy blonde hair was perfectly parted down the side and sprayed into submission. It would hold up through nearly anything. He’d once gone for a five-mile run outside during a windstorm and returned to the couch without a hair out of place.

“Long day?” The dimple in his cheek deepened when he smiled.

I leaned my head back against my chair. “You could say that. It’s probably not over.”

“I can take the on-call line tonight if you want,” he offered, moving behind me and massaging the tight muscles in my shoulders.

“No, it’s fine,” I insisted, leaning into his touch.

His palm stroked over my hair. “Then I’ll come over and make dinner tonight. You can change into those comfy sweats and sip on a glass of wine while I make steak and mashed potatoes.”

Jason was one of those genuinely nice guys. He’d been the quarterback on his high school football team, valedictorian of his graduating class, and the town worshiped him. We’d met through mutual friends at a bar when he was in residency in Denver and I was at medical school in Aurora. After a previous life filled with Alpha males who didn’t care what women thought, Jason’s ability to listen and value my opinion was refreshing.

When I graduated, he offered me a job at his practice. Moving to the rural mountain town of Oak Ridge seemed like the best option at the time. Named after town founder George Oak, not the tree, it had started as a mining camp and developed into a quaint little out-of-the-way town centered on the mill, which Jason’s family owned.

What began as a friendship eventually resulted in Jason asking me on a date and proposing marriage after an acceptable period of time. I hadn’t settled on a date yet, something I knew bothered him, but he was too nice to say anything about it.

There wasn’t anything wrong with him, per se. Everything about him was just—nice. He looked nice, talked nice, acted nice, and the sex was… nice. Granted, I only had one other man to compare him to, and over the years, that memory had likely grown skewed because I’d been a virgin.

Blinking, I brought myself back to the present and looked into Jason’s warm brown eyes. “Steak and potatoes sound amazing.”

“Great.” He beamed and patted my shoulder. “You go on home, and I’ll be along after I stop by the store. Maybe make some of that lemonade I like?”

I laughed at his hesitant request, like he was worried he’d asked too much. “I already have some chilled in the fridge.”

Standing, I packed my leather messenger bag and draped my coat over my arm. It was warm enough that I wouldn’t need to block the chill of the June evening. Jason leaned in and kissed me on the cheek before standing aside so I could get past him. “See you soon.”

I smiled and waved over my shoulder, bidding the nurses and front desk workers a good evening as I headed out the door to my sensible silver Honda CRV. It was just enough to make it through the winter snow with chains and had enough storage space in the back when I needed it. Jason liked to tell me it would be suitable for a family when we eventually had children.

Locals waved as I passed them on the way out of town. That was the kind of place Oak Ridge was. Everybody was friendly enough. Sometimes I missed my busier life in Chicago, but it was easy to quell those thoughts when I remembered why I’d left.

My family ran the Chicago Bratva.

My brothers Adrik and Yuri, to be specific. After my father died a decade ago, I told my brothers I was leaving for good. It was better than giving in to my father's arrangement with the Italians, bargaining my life away with a marriage contract to their oldest son, Dante. I shuddered at the memory.

The boy I’d once called a friend had become a man who tossed my feelings aside, just like all the men in my family. Taking my virginity, then telling me I’d never make a proper mafia wife. I never told my father or brothers, but the following day, I begged my father to let me transfer colleges while I was still sore between my legs. He’d allowed it after some convincing from my brothers, who suspected something had gone wrong between Dante and me but couldn’t get the truth from me.

After my father’s funeral, I enlisted the help of one of the family’s hackers, Ivan, to help me disappear and start a new life. I sometimes felt guilty about using him since I knew he had a crush on me. His little sister had been the victim of retaliation by the Cartel, taken and trafficked. Though my brothers had searched, they had never successfully located her.

Ivan understood my desire to escape life with the Bratva, and he’d used his skills to give me my new identity. Nikki Smith. Raised in small-town Iowa, a product of the foster care system after my fictional parents died. He created college grants and scores good enough to get me into the medical school of my choice. Colorado seemed like a good place. I’d never expressed an interest in visiting the state, and the medical school there wasn’t the most prestigious in the country. People back home would expect me to choose the best. After all, I was raised like a princess.

I’d left those tastes behind, living simply and frugally off the generous bank account Ivan set up for me. I didn’t ask where he’d gotten the money. Given my family’s businesses, it likely wasn’t clean money. But it allowed me to live free of the constraints I’d been shackled by as my father’s daughter.

I could put up with the occasional whisper or sidelong glance from a local who didn’t think their golden boy doctor should marry an outsider. It was nothing compared to worrying about warring factions of crime families in Chicago. Insults didn’t come close to threats against my life.

The forest grew denser as I climbed the winding road to my little house, one I’d rented from Jason’s family after his great-uncle passed. It wouldn’t be proper for us to live together before we were married, and I had no desire to anger the conservative locals. They’d been kind enough.

My entire body relaxed when I pulled into my gravel driveway and climbed out of my car, slinging my bag over my shoulder and trudging up the front steps to unlock the door. Nobody else locked their doors. Crime was next to nonexistent in Oak Ridge. I couldn’t ever quite let go of my paranoia that somebody from my past would find me.

My simple living room greeted me, furnished with tan leather couches surrounding the fireplace, a tv on the wall over the mantel, and buttery yellow paint on the walls warming up the space. The modest kitchen and dining room were located behind it, brightening the small area with white cabinets. I kicked my shoes off, placed them in the entry closet, and headed straight upstairs to my bedroom.

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