Chapter 62 - 61 The Doctors Mistress
Silas Hunt
Waiting in a parked SUV during an Asuir afternoon feels exactly like roasting inside a black leather coffin.
I drag hard on my cigar. The bitter smoke fills the cabin, mixing with the sour stench of four unwashed men and the struggling air conditioner. Sweat drips down my forehead and stings my eyes. My crimson silk shirt clings to my back like a second skin.
Every passing minute ticks away my patience.
"Where is he? We’ve been waiting here for hours now and still no sign of him." I ask. My voice sounds like rocks grinding together.
My driver flinches. He has a thick neck and zero brains. He grips the steering wheel and stares straight ahead through the windshield at the Etland Building glass doors.
"I don’t know, Boss," the driver mumbles. "Maybe the old doctor left through the back."
My grip tightens on the armrest. "If you let him slip away, I will personally break your kneecaps." I lean forward and smack the back of his bald head with my open palm. The sharp smack echoes in the tight space. He hunches his shoulders but stays quiet. Good. He knows better than to talk back.
Dr. Aris is supposed to be here by now. My mother needs his medical expertise. The stubborn old fool refused my money and kicked me out of his clinic. I am Silas Hunt. People do not say no to me. They definitely do not call security on me. I will make him listen today.
"Boss," Razor says. He sits in the passenger seat. The jagged tribal tattoos on his neck bunch up as he turns around. He points a stubby finger toward the building entrance. "Look."
I wipe the sweat from my eyes and look through the tinted glass.
Dr. Aris steps out of the sliding doors. The old man leans on a walking stick, adjusting his silver wire glasses. He looks perfectly calm. He has no idea I am still sitting out here waiting for him.
Then I see the girl walking beside him.
My jaw drops. The cigar slips from my lips and tumbles onto my lap. I do not even notice the burning ash right away.
It is her. The arrogant little wench from the pizza shop and the girl who refused to marry me. Emily Vance.
The memory hits me like a physical punch. Yesterday, she held a gun to my head. She forced me to kneel on a dirty floor in front of my own crew. She smiled while doing it. The sheer humiliation burns a hole straight through my pride. A few weeks before that, she refused an arranged marriage with me and decided to go with a body guard.
I brush the hot ash off my slacks. My blood boils. The heat rushes to my face, turning my skin tight and hot. I want to tear her apart with my bare hands. I want to hear her scream.
"That is the girl from yesterday," Razor says. He licks his dry lips. "Let us go grab her right now. Teach her a lesson."
I reach for the door handle. I want to. I really want to. But my brain catches up with my anger.
"Stop," I snap. I point at the old man. "Dr. Aris is right there. If we cause a scene in front of him, he will never treat my mother. We need him to be cooperative."
We watch them talk. Emily smiles at the old doctor. She shakes his hand. It is a very friendly exchange. Too friendly for a random college girl and a world famous cardiologist.
Razor lets out a dirty, wheezing laugh. He makes a crude, curving gesture with his hands in the air. "Look at them. She is definitely his kept woman. Why else is a young thing like her eating at a place like Bordeaux 101 with an old fossil?"
I stare at them. Razor is an idiot, but his logic is sound. She wears a simple cotton skirt and cheap white sneakers. She does not have the money to eat at a luxury restaurant. The old man is paying for her time. She is his mistress. The realization makes me sneer. She acted so high and mighty yesterday. She pretended to be untouchable. In reality, she is just a cheap toy for a rich old man.
"You know," Razor continues. He taps his tattooed chin. "If she belongs to the doctor, we can use her. We snatch the girl. We tell Dr. Aris that he gets his sweet little toy back after he fixes your mother. Two birds, one stone."
A slow grin stretches across my face. It is a brilliant strategy. It solves both of my problems at once. I get my revenge on the arrogant brat, and I get the doctor to save my mother.
"We wait," I order. I keep my eyes glued to the glass doors. "The second the old man leaves, we box her in."
A silver sedan pulls up to the curb. The driver opens the door. Dr. Aris climbs inside without looking our way. The car merges into the traffic and disappears down the avenue.
The shield is gone. She is all alone.
"Go get her," I say.
The SUV doors fly open. My four guys pour out onto the blistering pavement. They move fast. They spread out in a tight semicircle, cutting off her path to the street and blocking the building entrance. They trap her perfectly.
I take my time. I open my door and step out into the humid, suffocating heat. My bad left leg throbs in protest. I grab my wooden cane from the backseat even though I detest using it. The tarnished brass skull on top feels heavy and comforting in my palm.
I walk toward her. I drag my left foot slightly. Clack. Clack. Clack. The brass skull hits the concrete in a steady rhythm. I want her to hear me coming. I want the fear to set in before I even open my mouth.
My guys stand around her. They smell like stale sweat and cheap beer. They look intimidating. Any normal girl would be crying by now. She would be begging for help.
I stop three feet away from her.
Emily does not look scared. She does not tremble. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me. Her posture is completely straight. She looks at me like I am a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
The total lack of fear confuses me for a second. Then it just makes me infinitely angrier.
"Well, well, well," I say. My voice grates against the quiet courtyard. "Look what the stray cat dragged in."
She keeps her chin level. Her dark eyes bore into mine. "Silas. Still loitering on sidewalks and bothering people who have actual jobs?"
I bark out a laugh. It sounds wet and ugly in my own ears. She still has that sharp tongue. She still thinks she is in control.
"You have a very sharp tongue for a kept woman," I say. I lean heavily on my cane. "I saw you walking out with the old doctor. How much does he pay you to warm his bed? Whatever it is, you are selling yourself cheap. I bet I can double his rate."
I expect her to flush with shame. I expect her to look down. She does neither.
"You have a very limited imagination," she says. Her voice drips with pure pity. Pity. For me. "Not everyone operates in the gutter like you. Some of us actually earn our keep through intellect."
"Gutter?" I spit on the ground. The glob lands right next to her pristine white shoes. "I run this district. You pointed a gun at me yesterday. You made me look weak in front of my boys. You think you can just walk away from that?"
I lean closer. The heat radiating off the pavement is nothing compared to the heat of my anger. I look her up and down. I let my eyes linger on her chest and her hips. I want her to feel dirty. I want her to feel small.
"I’m going to take you back to my place," I whisper. I smile, showing my stained teeth. "I’m going to teach you some manners. I am going to break that arrogant streak right out of you. And then? I’ll use you. I will make the old doctor do exactly what I want to get his precious little toy back. Two birds. One very pretty stone."
I reach out. I want to grab her shoulder. I want to feel her flinch.
My fingers brush her sleeve.
She shifts her weight. Her hips twist. Her arm blurs in my peripheral vision.
SMACK.
Her open palm connects with my left cheek. The impact sounds like a firecracker popping. The force snaps my head to the right.
Pain explodes across my face. It shoots into my eye and down my jaw. I lose my balance. My bad leg buckles underneath me. I drop my cane. The brass skull clatters loudly against the concrete. I throw my arms out blindly and grab Razor’s shirt to stop myself from hitting the ground.
My cheek burns like I pressed it against a hot stove. The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.
Total silence drops over the courtyard. No one moves. My guys just stare with their mouths open.
I touch my face. My fingers find the swelling welt. I look at my hand. Then I look at her.
She stands there in her simple clothes, looking completely unbothered. She just slapped the boss of an entire District in broad daylight.
The last piece of my sanity breaks into a million pieces. The humiliation drowns out every logical thought in my head. I do not care about the doctor anymore. I do not care about my mother. I only care about destroying the smug look on this girl’s face.
"You stupid bitch," I snarl. Spit flies from my mouth and hits her cheek.
I reach behind my back. My fingers close around the textured grip of my silver revolver. I pull it loose from my waistband in one violent, jerking motion.
I raise my arm. I step forward, ignoring the pain in my leg.
I press the cold steel barrel directly against the center of her forehead.