Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Dr. Chauncey, please go check on him. He’s as stubborn as the day is long, but I don’t think he’d react the same way he did before.” Cayson knew what Vaughan was referring to. He groaned and closed Duke’s file, digging the pads of his thumbs into his dry eye sockets. He checked his watch. It was almost four. Duke was his last appointment, but they didn’t know that. He could make up something. Only thing was, he was a terrible liar and his gut gnawed at him to go check on the big man.
“He’s probably not home,” Cayson said quietly, checking his watch again.
“Yes he is,” Duke and Vaughan said, in perfect unison.
Damn these two. Cayson hadn’t been able to resist either one of them since they’d barged into his life. Looking into Vaughan’s concerned eyes; he sighed and reached for his intercom button. “Nania, are you still here?”
“Yes, doctor. Just getting ready to head out. You need something?” She sounded tired. Cayson had a hectically full schedule. He was one of the managing board members of the Nephrology transplant team in addition to being a well sought out surgeon. Not to mention the number of hours he volunteered in the ER to let the doctors who had families have some time off.
“Do we have a radio portable available to check out?” His question was met with curious gazes from across his desk while he waited for his nurse to respond. Those things are never available. The hospital only had four of the tablet-style portable X-ray radios, so the odds of him….
“We actually have two available, Dr. Chauncey. Do you want me to check one out for you?”
Cayson cleared his throat in surprise. “Yes, please. Thank you, Nania. You can go on home now.”
“Good night, Doctor.”
Cayson stood and began packing a small bag with supplies he thought he’d need from the cabinet behind his desk. He even got a heat wrap, maybe Quick would let him massage some of the strained muscles he must have. Wishful thinking. He’d grab the radio tablet on his way out.
“I really appreciate this, Cayson.”
He didn’t know what to say to Duke or even how to look him in the eye. Did he tell him how scared he was to face Quick? Particularly an injured Quick. Tell him that he wasn’t sure he could control himself, or his bodily fluids? His fucked up whatever the hell it was with Joe was becoming increasingly silly and immature. All the humping and grinding made him feel like he was a nervous virgin, too scared to go all the way. He needed to be touched, loved, fucked hard up against the wall. Didn’t he deserve that as much as the next man?
“We’ll walk you out.” Vaughan stood and buttoned his jacket. Cayson watched Duke appreciatively scan Vaughan’s entire six-foot frame before he stood himself.
Feeling the warmth from the men in his office, his jealously was there, riding him, making him edgy, quick to get upset and cop an attitude, because he knew he was deserving of the same treatment Duke was getting. Where the fuck were all the men like Vaughan? Cayson tried to remain calm as he threw a couple files still on his desk into his vintage cowhide messenger bag. He wouldn’t act like a ridiculous child with these great men and piss on their picnic basket. He just needed to find his own picnic.
He tossed a couple more files in, just in case Quick threw him out on his ass again, giving him time to do some work at home. The thought made him want to change his mind. He was done with the mistreatment – if it meant being alone, so be it – but no more allowing men to walk all over Dr. Cayson Chauncey. There. Oath to self, made.
Quick
Quick finished his long shower. He’d let the scalding hot water beat on his back and side for as long as he could stand it. His ribs screamed in protest any time he turned too fast, squatted or bent over, and he was beginning to think he may have fractured a couple. His chest ached when he breathed, but again, he self-diagnosed, contending it was only tenderness… nothing more. He reached into his top chest drawer and pulled out some boxer briefs, but when he thought of bending twice to put on his underwear and pants, he opted for his thin cotton lounging pants and no shirt. Lifting his right arm, he gingerly touched the black and purple bruises all along his torso. Fuck me.
What had he been thinking? What was he trying to prove? Watching Ford and Brian toss men around and beat them like it was a sport had Quick wanting to show off his shit, too. He was martial arts trained since he was a teen. Three fuckin’ men were barely a challenge, but he always had to remember to keep his anger from rising to levels that caused him to act without considering the consequences. He’d easily taken the first two, kicking one in the nuts while he held the other in a tight chokehold. Then the third scared bastard had slammed into him from behind, sending all of them crashing down the apartment building’s concrete stairs. Those damn steps had to be what had done the most damage to his body. But, still high on adrenaline, Quick ignored Duke’s orders and got back on his feet, stomping bodies until he reached their bounty.