Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 Read Free Page B

could feel her face heating, and knew it had to be red. The way she flushed was the bane of her existence, always betraying her emotions. “Oh, um, yes,” she sputtered. Smooth, very smooth. He’d find her inarticulate ramblings attractive for sure, not that she was trying to attract him. “Gumby will be fine. Back to normal in no time, and ready to have his face smashed in all over again.”
    Striker barked out a laugh. “Bit of a smartass there, aren’t you, Doc?”
    “Well, I call it as I—”
    An eager voice Lila knew well interrupted them. “Oh, Doctor Emerson, I’m so glad you’re working tonight.”  
    She sighed, and couldn’t hold back a tiny groan of annoyance. Would she ever get out of here tonight? Embarrassed by the unprofessional reaction, she glanced at Striker to see if he’d noticed her blunder. If the grin on his face was any indication, he had. There probably wasn’t much that slipped by him.
    Lila slid her professional mask on, and looked at the man who had stepped up to the desk holding a bag of ice and a towel over his left hand. Mr. White was about forty, average height for a man, which was much taller than Lila’s five-foot-two, and he was a bit overweight. Despite his larger size, his clothing always looked too big for him. Greasy, mud-brown hair sat atop his head, and thick glasses rimmed his eyes.
    White was a frequent flyer, a patient who visited the ER nearly once a week for myriad complaints, many of which proved to be benign. Each time he came in he refused to be treated by any doctor other than Lila. In fact, he basically refused to speak to anyone in the ER aside from her, including the receptionist. Everyone who worked there was familiar with him, and gave his eccentricities a pass. He may have a little crush on her, and Lila tried to be sweet to the man who was often so alone.
    The problem was, his visits often proved to be a waste of her time and he tended to drag out each encounter, adding extra concerns to his initial complaint once she was ready to discharge him. It was almost always a Friday or a Saturday night that he came in, and she had the impression the poor man used the hospital as a way to have the attention and social interaction he probably lacked otherwise.
    “Yes, Mr. White, I’m working tonight. Looks like you hurt yourself there.” Lila tried to be patient and keep the frustration out of her voice. The evening had been pleasant so far, and she just wasn’t in the mood to deal with what had the potential to be hours of Mr. White. As usual, he’d avoided the receptionist and ignored the other staff in the hospital.
    “Oh yes, Dr. Emerson, I did indeed. I was making dinner for my mother—you know how I do that every Friday because her hands aren’t what they used to be—and the knife slipped.” His green eyes welled and his lower lip quivered. “I think it needs stitches, and I’m so worried they’ll hurt, but now that I see you’re here I can relax. You’re the best, and I know you’ll take good care of me. I’ve never been to a doctor as gentle and skilled as you are.”
    Lila resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mr. White was the polar opposite of her previous patient. Gumby hadn’t flinched when she’d injected the anesthetic right into his open wound, and Mr. White was as fearful as a young child. He might even expect a lollipop before he was discharged.
    The overblown compliments only served to embarrass her, especially since Striker failed to give them any kind of privacy. She risked a glance in Striker’s direction, and found a wide grin on his handsome face.
    “I agree.” His eyes glittered with mirth and he did a poor job of steeling his features. “While I can’t comment on all the doctor’s skills…I can say she’s an excellent physician.”
    Okay, time to end this encounter before her face caught fire. Striker’s teasing did not help the situation. Right now she was sure her face could have passed for a tomato, it was so