Page 43 of Chase
The sun begins to rise, the orange beam cracking through the blinds of the windows. Finally, my shift is coming to an end. A look at my watch tells me it's six in the morning. Other than my run-in with Dr. Rivera, the night was relatively uneventful. However, that will no doubt change as I still have to visit her in her office before finishing.
Russell has been asleep since I arrived, and when I checked in on him a few minutes ago, before my shift finished, he was still dead to the world. As I approached his bedside, he had mumbled something incoherent. I’d allowed myself a few moments to gaze at him while he couldn’t stare back.
Connor’s suggestion that I date both of them came completely out of the blue. Since he proposed the trial period, I haven’t spoken to either of them about it. The idea that I need to sample what Russell has to offer to be sure that it’s Connor I want feels wrong in so many ways, especially since our relationship feels so right. But then again, if I was truly settled on a future with him, would I be developing these insane feelings for his brother at all?
I told them both that I needed a few days to consider the proposition. There are a lot of variables to consider when entering into what is essentially a love triangle, but perhaps I’m already part of one. The difference now is that all parties are aware of the situation. On one hand, I feel elated with the opportunity to explore the possibilities; on the other, I worry about the risk and, ultimately, my final decision.
As I muse over my situation, I make my way to Dr. Rivera’s office as I was instructed to do. She’s known to spend the night in the hospital on occasion, so it wasn’t a surprise she requested to see me. As I approach her door, light streams through a small crack creating a line on the dark hallway floor. There’s a rumbling of voices which I assume is a television, but upon getting closer, I realize that it’s multiple people having a conversation.
“Doctor, we had an agreement,” a man’s voice says gruffly. “And per that agreement, my boss can change the parameters as he sees fit.”
“I can’t do any more than I am,” the doctor responds, her tone wavering with insecurity. “People are already asking questions. There aren’t enough patients who are registered as organ donors for me to meet your demand. I’ve had to start removing organs from non-registered sources. The lack of paperwork is a daily risk to us all.”
“That isn’t our problem. You have a debt to pay, and this is how you chose to pay it.”
What in the actual fuck have I walked into? All thought of interrupting the meeting evaporates. Organ theft happening under the noses of dozens of medics. The idea is as horrifying as it is absurd. I need to learn more about what is going on. This can’t be true even though everything I am hearing tells me it is.
Deciding that standing in the center of the hallway isn’t the safest place to be, given what’s clearly an unsavory business meeting is taking place, I move to the side and into an adjacent room. Standing beside the wall with the door opened a fraction, I can still hear the conversation and even see the man facing the doctor’s desk.
From the back, he looks like any other businessman. He’s tall, well over six feet, with short neat hair and a crisp dark suit. Broad-shouldered, his muscles strain against the smooth material, filling every inch of the garment. With him standing in front of her desk, I can just make her out behind him. He leans down, placing his hands on the surface.
“We need more regular shipments,” he growls. “Find a way to make it happen or we’ll begin to take payment by other means. Whatever means necessary. You’re running out of time, Doctor.” A low chuckle sounds from his huge frame. “Find the goods, or I’ll start bringing you donors.”
“That isn’t possible,” she hisses, panicked. “I can’t just start cutting organs out of random people.”
He moves out of view, and the doctor follows him moments later. Unable to help myself, I step out of the room and move closer to the doorway to get a better look. With my body to one side hidden behind the wall, I peer in; another two men I didn’t see earlier stand on either side of the doctor, each around a foot away from her. As large if not larger than their boss, they wear similar tight suits with crisp shirts. Each one has matching tattoos protruding from the collar that spike up toward smoothly shaved heads. Their arms are crossed over their chests in a way that makes them appear formidable.
The man in charge makes a small signal with one hand, and each man moves toward her and places a hand on her shoulder. Their fingers sit over the plain white t-shirt she’s wearing, and the material bunches beneath the pressure. Her eyes widen, a display of the fear coursing through her in the moment.
I watch in horror as the man to her right pulls a short knife from his waistband. He places the tip behind her left ear and holds the weapon steady. Dr. Rivera swallows as all the color drains from her already pale face.
“Is there a problem, Doctor?” the man controlling the situation asks.
“No,” she whispers, clearly terrified.
“Good, I’m delighted we have an understanding.” The goon drops the knife away, but not before nicking her skin. A small droplet of blood runs down her flesh. “So the updated conditions of our arrangement are this: we’ll provide you with the required organs each day and the timescale required. It’s then up to you to find suitable donors. Once the operation is scheduled, I’ll arrange for the collection team to visit. Between yourself and Winslow, this should be more than possible.”
The doctor sits frozen in her chair listening to what are practically impossible demands. With each word, the desolation she’s feeling becomes more clear, and she withers before my eyes. The man reminds her again how this is the payment for a past debt; I wonder how she got herself in this situation, and ultimately what I can do to help her…or if I should get involved at all.
“When do you need the next shipment?” she asks quietly. The little fight I saw in her when I stumbled across the scene gone.
“Tomorrow,” he tells her. “Do you have a suitable candidate?”
“There will be one,” she says sadly. “I have a couple of patients in their final days with organs suited for donation.”
“Ensure one of them checks out tomorrow.” He straightens then turns unexpectedly, and I step backward in an attempt not to be seen. I don’t see the small trash can behind me and my foot collides with the woven metal. It bounces noisily across the corridor.
Panicked, I take off at a run back toward the reception area. I’m aware of a flood of light behind me as the door to the doctor's office opens. There’s the sound of heavy footsteps, and I duck into the first available room, not looking to see who the occupant is. I click the door closed and stand behind it with my ear to the cool plastic.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” a warm, masculine voice says from behind me.
“Shhh,” I hiss with a glance over my shoulder, and Russell frowns back.
“You storm into my room at six in the morning, and I’m the one who has to be quiet?” I flip the lock on the door closed, then turn to face him. “What do you have in mind, Trouble? Because I’m not fit for any acrobatics.” He gestures to his broken leg which has now been set in plaster. “But if you want to get on top, I’m sure I could withstand the pain to experience the pleasure.”
The door handle flexes, and I spin to face it then walk backward, my eyes fixed on the moving metal. My heart begins to race as I replay the events in the doctor's office. Unsaid threats and violence laced every word during the brutal scene, so many unspoken and unknown dangers that she was terrified of.
The back of my knees hit the bed, and I sit down on the mattress, eyes still fixed on the door. The person attempting to enter seems to have moved on, but no part of me wants to go back outside this room. I am sitting halfway down the bed; Russell lies behind me. A warm hand connects with my hip, and I glance at him. His expression is quizzical, concerned.