Page 18 of Haven

“Anything for my favorite doctor. Whatcha got?”

“You remember that pretty pink-haired woman I left with a couple of weekends ago?”

He eyed me. “The hot curvaceous one with that soul snatchin’ corset top and leather pants?”

“That’s her.” I would have added gorgeous, breathtaking, amazing, and unforgettable. “Have you seen her around? Has she come back?”

“Sadly, no. I would remember a woman like that. I’ll keep an eye out. She's yours?” Not yet.

“Ehh, we’ll see if I can catch her. Thanks, darlin’.”

“Of course, sugar bear.”

I grabbed my phone and went to my Instagram. Technology was not my forte, and I sucked at being the FBI friend. I typed in Rory into the search bar, and dozens of names popped up, but none of them stood out to me. Just to test my luck, I tried Aurora, but if she went by Rory, I highly doubted she would use her full name.

When I came up empty-handed, I locked my phone and finished my drink. I needed to get this woman out of my head, but with her stuck it should mean something. There was a lot more to her than just an amazing night together. I wanted to know more, and I was about to pull out the big guns. There had to be a reason she was stuck on me like superglue.

“And what will we do when Mama says no jumpin’ on the bed?” I laughed, as I added a pink Paw Patrol Band-Aid to little Dylan Brant’s arm cast. “Mama knows a lot of good things.”

He giggled. “No more jumping cause then I get hurted.”

“Hey, but at least you got to see me. I wanna see you back here in a few weeks.” I looked at his mom. “If he has any problems with the cast, come see me or go back to the orthopedist. He’s gonna wanna touch it or pick at it, but try to keep it clean and dry.”

“Thank you, Dr. Morningstar.”

I walked them to the front and offered my candy jar for Dylan to pick a sucker. “It’s my pleasure. Now be careful, you little rascal.”

They were the last people on my list for today. When I first opened my clinic, I made it a one woman show since I only saw a handful of patients and I could handle the paperwork. Mostly everyone in Crestview knew me, and I wasn’t like the other main clinic who didn’t care about people having insurance. I wanted to make sure people were taken care of.

I went to the back rooms and started disinfecting everything. My dad said I should have help, but I could handle whatever the clinic needed. One day I would expand and do more, but right now, I liked how I ran things.

Besides, with Luke in town, I didn’t want to endanger anyone by working for me when he was dangling me as bait for my father.

Removing my gloves, I took off my white coat and hung it on the hook. I heard something from behind me, but before I could react, someone grabbed me, slamming me against the wall. Rough hands grasped my arms behind my back as I struggled against them, before stomping on my attacker's foot and elbowing him in the side. He grunted, but it didn’t do much when he grabbed a handful of my locs and jerked me down. This hair might be how I separated my two identities, but goddamn, I was about to go bald.

My head hit the marble stone with a hard crack. I was dazed for a second before reality snapped me back and the man straddled my hips. I fucking hated men. “Keep your nose out of Primal business, or we’ll make you the whore you desperately wanna be.”

One of Luke’s lackeys.

He crawled off me before leaving my clinic.

I groaned and crawled off the floor, seeing a hint of red on the marble. Yeah, I hated men. I guess I needed to keep a gun or a knife—or maybe both—in my clinic. I didn’t have proof of who this man was other than what he said. Luke could twist it and say it wasn’t any of his people, and unless I had solid proof, my father was stuck.

He already had enough issues with the Vipers…unless…was Axel threatening to do something with Cinder to make her pissed off and kill him?

Goddamnit. Luke Callahan was a pesky rat.

Seventeen

Vesper

There were reports of an explosion at the docks, and I knew it wasn’t because of me. I might get pyro happy in empty shipping containers sometimes, but I never left anything that could cause destruction to products. Cinder would kill me. I’ve been burnt, physically and hypothetically, too many times trying to play with the elements when dealing with Cinder’s shipment. One time I nearly blew up a shipment after playing with matches too close to gunpowder.

Melisa, our inside woman at the police department, was at the docks waiting for me. Depending on what she had to say would depend on if I pissed in Cinder’s Cheerios today.

When I pulled up, there were firetrucks and police cars, and I immediately knew I’d have to call Cinder. It was delivery day, and said delivery was up in flames. We were about to have a lot of pissed-off arms buyers. Cinder would want the whole rundown the moment she got here. It took four rings for her to answer.

“Get to the docks,” I told her. “Get Widow here, too.” I hung up before she could bitch me out, then I turned to address Melisa who was glaring at the fire as if it personally offended her. “What happened?”