“Why the hell can’t I? It’s a simple delivery job. I could…” Then it sunk in. “Oh,” I said bitterly.
“It’s not personal,” Ollie said.
His pack was secretive, as all packs were. They didn’t want their members to be exposed. Less dangerous if a pack member did the delivery rather than some filthy fucking lone wolf. I was an outsider, and they wanted me to stay in my lane.
It shouldn’t have bothered me, but I couldn’t deny that it stung.
Ollie’s face crumpled into an apologetic wince. “Nate, we’re friends, but I gotta follow the rules. You get that, right?”
“Right,” I grunted, then waved at his car. “Go on. Go deliver your shit.”
“Nate—”
“Fucking go already,” I hissed. “I’ll give her a ride back.”
Ollie heaved a sigh but said no more. Instead, he walked around to the driver’s side of his sedan and got it. In a few seconds, he was gone.
I’d been short with him, but I wasn’t mad at Ollie. It was more the whole situation that pissed me off. I was good enough to bring in for a tracking job, but the moment I offered to deliver some goddamn blood, I wasn’t.
What a crock of shit.
9
Cameron
“Ithink promethazine will help with your nausea,” the nurse said as she dug in a drawer. “I have rectal suppositories if you think taking a pill will make you more sick.”
I wrinkled my nose. “A pill is fine.”
“Here we go.” She pulled out a sample box of the meds and handed it to me. “There’s enough in there for about a week. If it’s not better by then, you may want to contact your personal physician.”
Taking the box, I immediately tore it open and dry-swallowed one pill, hoping it would work fast.
“Any other questions?” she asked.
“Do you think this is serious? Based on the symptoms?”
The nurse gave me a strange look, one I couldn’t quite describe. Worry? Fear? Whatever it was, it vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. She smiled at me again, and when she spoke, her voice was calm and professional.
“I can’t make a diagnosis—I’m just a nurse—and your blood will need to be run and analyzed, then a specialist will look at the results.” She patted my arm. “I’m sure you’ll be all right. It’s probably a bug of some sort. They have a saying in the medical field: ‘When you see hoof prints, think horse, not zebra.’”
I chuckled. “Makes sense. Do you have any idea when I’ll know the results? What are we testing me for, anyway?”
The nurse averted her eyes. “It’s a full panel. Everything you can imagine—from hepatitis and flu to tetanus and measles. Even a pregnancy test. I have the detective’s contact info. I’ll have him get a hold of you with the results.”
That sounded like a pretty significant medical privacy violation. Why would a cop call me with the results? Shouldn’t that come from a doctor?
My throbbing head and the constant roiling in my stomach made it all much less important than it normally would have been in my mind.
“Sure,” I grunted. “Fine. Thanks again.”
I tucked the box of pills into my purse and left. It may have been the placebo effect, but my stomach felt a little better by the time I reached the automatic doors at the entrance of the hospital. My mind whirled with more questions to ask Detective Vickers on the ride back to my office. Eventually, I’d break him, and he’d slip up and give me something juicy to work with.
When I stepped outside, I froze. Nate stood by his bike. Ollie was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the parking lot, but his car wasn’t there.
“Where did Ollie go?” I asked warily.
As an answer, Nate held his helmet out for me, an irritated look on his face.
