4
CAGE
Iswung my SUV smoothly into my designated staff parking spot near the emergency entrance, feeling Hadley’s gaze track me as I shifted the gear into Park. The quiet rumble of the engine faded, replaced by the steady hum of nearby traffic and the muted bustle of the hospital in front of us.
Hadley shifted in her seat, the fabric of her clothes rustling softly as she adjusted herself to face me more directly. A hint of humor tugged at her lips, curving her mouth into an amused smirk. Her dark-blond hair fell forward slightly, catching in soft, and a little wild, waves over her shoulder, making my fingers itch to run through it.
“So, this is how it is for you, huh?” she teased, her eyes glittering playfully beneath the soft glow of the parking lot lights. “No mile-long walk from the farthest spot. Let me guess, we won’t need to wait hours to be seen either?”
I shrugged, not bothering to hide the faint smirk pulling at my lips as I turned my head to meet her gaze squarely. “Perks of being mine, baby.”
The moment the words left my mouth, her lips parted slightly, and her green eyes widened as surprise flashed in theirdepths. But there was something warmer, too. However, I didn’t give her a chance to fully process what I’d said before I shoved open my door and stepped out into the hot June air, letting the moment linger.
I rounded the vehicle and opened her door, not waiting for her to offer a comment or request for me to clarify. My pulse thudded hard in my veins as I leaned in, extending my hand to help her down. Hadley’s fingers wrapped around mine without hesitation, the softness of her skin igniting a spark that surged straight to my cock.
Fuck.Every innocent touch she gave me was unraveling my self-control faster than I’d ever thought possible.
Her feet hit the pavement, and I steadied her, keeping a hand at the small of her back as I guided her toward the emergency room doors. My touch wasn’t hovering or hesitant—it was solid, possessive, and deliberate. She didn’t flinch or pull away, leaning subtly into it, as if my touch grounded her in some way she hadn’t expected.
We moved into the ER lobby, the fluorescent lights glaring down, revealing worn linoleum floors and a cluster of uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs. A few heads lifted from scattered seats, curious eyes tracking our path as we moved directly to the reception desk. The nurse behind it glanced up, her expression shifting immediately from bored professionalism to focused attention when she recognized me.
“Hey, Dana,” I greeted as we approached.
“Dr. Duvall,” she replied, setting aside her clipboard.
“Which room is open?” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand.
She turned slightly to look at the large dry-erase board behind her. “Exam room two is open.”
“Thanks.” My attention went back to Hadley as I steered her past the desk without breaking stride. “Set up a CT scan.”
Hadley’s eyes darted to me as I led her down the hallway, curiosity and mild surprise evident in her expressive face, but she didn’t comment.
It obviously hadn’t escaped her notice that I didn’t stop for paperwork or to explain myself. But she didn’t know that it wasn't something anyone expected of me. It was about efficiency instead of arrogance, though. I’d worked here long enough that everyone knew my focus was always on the patient. And I was given the ability to do that because I’d earned it, long before I’d started working in Crossbend.
I was one of the best and most highly skilled trauma surgeons in the world. My extensive experience in emergency medicine enabled me to operate under extreme pressure with speed and precision. My diagnostic instincts were strong and finely honed, often picking up on details others might miss. Years of working in high-risk environments gave me steady nerves and excellent situational awareness. I had a deep understanding of how the human body functioned and how to repair it.
And when the MC deemed it necessary, how to break it.
But I wasn’t a narcissistic asshole. I hadn’t coasted on my reputation and expected everyone to fall all over themselves in gratitude over my choice to work here. I’d put in the time, done the grunt work no one expected of me, and earned the respect that gave me the benefit of the doubt with my colleagues. And though I didn’t ask for it, they often took the bullshit part of the job off my shoulders so I could put every bit of my concentration on the patient and their treatment.
Exam room two was small and sterile. I closed the door behind us with a quiet click, shutting out the noise and chaos of the emergency room, narrowing the world to just the two of us.
“Sit,” I instructed, nodding toward the exam table. My unyielding tone was not harsh, the low timbre resonating through the room.
Hadley complied silently, easing herself onto the paper-covered seat with a slight wince. Her breathing was steady, but I caught the subtle tension around her mouth, evidence of the pain she was still trying to minimize.
A nurse bustled in behind us and gave Hadley a warm smile as she introduced herself. “I’m Gidget. I’m just going to work on your intake paperwork while Dr. Duvall examines you.”
I grabbed a mobile, floor-stand exam light and pulled it over to her as I stepped in close. “You can answer her questions but stay still for me.”
My fingers found their way to the delicate skin at her temple once more. This time, my examination was more thorough, though I already knew exactly what I was looking at. Her wound had stopped actively bleeding, the blood now drying into a stark contrast against her tan skin. My touch was firm as I tilted her head slightly, but softer when I brushed her hair back, giving me a clearer view beneath the spotlight.
Then my gaze shifted, lingering on the other scar, now sharply defined under the high-intensity light. The uneven tension of the skin was more pronounced than I’d initially realized, an indentation deeper than a routine childhood surgery should leave. The scar tissue was jagged and angry, a carelessly repaired wound that had been hurried and amateurish. I again noticed the faded, irregular pigmentation that marked the skin beneath her hairline, shadows of something that had once been there. It had to have been intentionally removed.
I suspected it might be some kind of birthmark. I would have assumed it was a vanity thing—Hadley choosing to remove a blight to her image. But just from the small amount of time I’d known her, I couldn’t see her caring about a birthmark. And she’d clearly been given a bullshit story to appease her own curiosity. On top of that, I was now convinced it had been done when she was a baby.
The procedure certainly hadn’t been done to heal her—there was no evidence that a gash or cut had been repaired. And it had been done almost recklessly, clearly by someone who either lacked the skill or simply didn’t care enough to do it properly. Probably a little of both.