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    Libby Drew
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Paying The Piper - 30. Chapter 30

Drew heard Quent the second he stepped off the elevator. He chuckled at a frazzled looking nurse rushing down the hall, but didn’t bother to stop and ask after Quent’s room. He simply followed the banging and shouting.

"Cobb, if you send one more pre-pubescent teenage girl in here to feel me up...."

"You’ll what, Quent," Drew heard Stuart say. "I’m afraid you don’t look very scary at the moment."

"My aim is perfect," Quent snarled.

"Yes, so you’ve demonstrated. I could move you down the hall to Pediatrics, you know. Your behavior is suited to the other five-year-olds."

Drew leaned against the outside of the door and laughed silently.

"Your bedside manner is atrocious," Quent snapped.

Drew heard the clatter of a tray hitting the floor. He winced. "Quent, do you want this pain medication, or not?" he heard Stuart ask.

Drew waited, but the room beyond remained silent. Finally, he heard a disgusted sigh. "Fine. Give it to me," Quent grumbled. Drew rolled his eyes.

"Not until you apologize."

Drew gasped and smacked his hand over his mouth before he laughed outright. Quent’s reply dripped ice. "I beg you pardon?" he purred in a low voice.

"I believe you heard me. Say you’re sorry for scaring my staff and throwing your bedpan."

Drew’s guffaw escaped before he could prevent it. "Marcus!" Quent yelled. "Get in here!"

Still chuckling, Drew slipped around the door frame. "Are you armed?"

Quent glared, but the effect was completely ruined by the white hospital gown and pale, bandage wrapped thigh. "Bring me my gun," he hissed. "I need to shoot Cobb. He’s holding my medication hostage." He turned his attention back to Stuart. "You evil bastard. Haven’t you ever heard of the Hippocratic Oath?"

Stuart sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He turned and handed Drew a small paper cup and a glass of water. "Good luck," he said. They shared a small smile.

"I want out of here as soon as possible!" Quent demanded as Stuart left.

"That’s being arranged as we speak," the frazzled doctor called over his shoulder.

Quent huffed in frustration. He gestured Drew over impatiently. "Give it to me."

Drew gave a brief thought to not doing what Quent asked. Very brief. When common sense reasserted itself, he handed the cups over. Quent swallowed the pills all at once.

"Pain bad?" Drew asked.

"Yes, Marcus. Pain bad. Sleep good. Go away."

Drew shrugged. "I’m not here to see you anyway."

"As I suspected."

Drew turned to leave, but Quent called him back a moment later. "Marcus!"

Drew glanced over his shoulder. Quent made a sour face. "Thank you for your assistance."

Drew eyes grew wide and he gave a half smile. "Does that mean you’re starting to like me?"

Quent snorted and closed his eyes. Drew left, noticing that despite the dismissal, Quent hadn’t denied it.

**********

Cale met him with a smile. Drew smiled back and pulled the curtain behind him. He frowned when it didn’t close all the way. He tugged and pulled for several seconds before giving up.

Cale smirked and shook his head. "It’s not meant to be."

Drew leaned close and ran a hand down Cale’s back. "Then let’s get you out of here."

Drew made use of his considerable charm and Cale was discharged in ten minutes flat.

Cale shook off his hand when Drew tried to help him into the car. "Don’t treat me like an invalid," he demanded. Once he was securely buckled into the jeep, Drew closed the door and ducked his head through the window.

"Just assessing your condition."

Cale twisted his head and put his lips to Drew’s ear. He smiled when he felt Drew’s hand tighten on his shoulder. "My condition is fine, but yours won’t be if you don’t get me home right now."

Drew took the advice to heart. The last police car was pulling out of the driveway when they drove in. Drew rolled down his window and the other driver did the same. Drew’s jaw dropped when he saw Rob behind the wheel. He tensed, relaxing only a little when Cale’s hand sneaked onto his leg and squeezed softly. Squeezing back, Drew pasted a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Drew asked. Despite his efforts, his tone was confrontational.

Rob took it in stride. "Quent called me about an hour ago. Hired me back."

"Just like that?" Drew queried.

Rob laughed self-consciously. "Well, no, not just like that. There are some conditions, but those are between him and me." He glanced beyond Drew to Cale and nodded once. Cale returned the tense gesture. Drew took his foot off the brake. "See you around," he called as the jeep started to roll forward.

Rob started to say something else, but Drew punched the accelerator and the jeep roared forward. Cale twisted around to watch Rob drive slowly away. "That wasn’t very nice. You’re going to tarnish your sparkling reputation."

"I’ll risk it." Drew didn’t speak again until they were inside and the door was closed behind them. He pulled Cale against him, the gentle gesture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. Cale went willingly, still awed by the pulse of desire, the novelty of his feelings.

"This is all we do for right now," Drew said against his hair.

Cale ran his hands up and down Drew’s back. "Oh, I don’t think so," he said huskily.

"You have a concussion. You know what that is, don’t you?"

"Something to do with swelling?" Cale answered. He pushed his hips forward.

"Smartass," Drew mumbled. With a soft kiss to Cale’s temple, he pushed him away. "Rest first, and then we’ll see."

"Since when are you the boss?"

"Since you stepped in front of a gun. You’re obviously incapable of looking after yourself."

Cale snorted. "Look who’s talking."

Drew smiled self-consciously and shrugged. "It’s part of my job. You can take it or leave it."

"If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll leave it."

Drew laughed. He took Cale’s hands and pulled him down the hall. "We’ll see if you change your opinion later."

**********

Quent slept fitfully. It wasn’t the pain, he was used to that. Something else was niggling at his brain. Something incessant and annoyingly important. Perhaps it was the drugs and perhaps it was simple exhaustion, but whatever Quent called it, he still came to the same uncomfortable conclusion.

He was missing something. Something big.

He struggled to banish the fog and put his thoughts in order. He ticked off the facts in his head. Stahl killed Patterson. She'd found out just how much he was skimming from his clients and had jacked up her price. But how had she discovered his activities in the first place? Not important right now, he decided.

And Mullen? A victim of Patterson or a victim of Stahl? He supposed if he had to choose, he was leaning toward Patterson. But no matter how he chewed it, it tasted bitter and wrong. Why had Cynthia been dumped on Cale’s lawn? It was too poetic to be coincidence. Perhaps he was just an old man seeing something that wasn’t there. Undisputedly, not everyone would appreciate the sense of irony in such a gesture.

He sighed and tried once more to get comfortable on the hospital bed. After several minutes, he gave up and reached for the stack of folders Rob had brought. He had planned on hiring Rob back eventually but he’d wanted the boy to suffer for several more days first. Unfortunately, his hands had been tied. He was stuck in the hospital and someone needed to be available for the community, even if that someone was Rob Skinner.

Damn Stahl for having a mental break and ruining his plans. To make matters worse, Rob hadn’t seemed surprised by the offer. In fact, it appeared to Quent as though he had been expecting it all along. He sneered disgustedly. If a half-wit like Skinner could read him like a first grade primer, then he'd truly reached a new low. Next thing he knew, he’d be offering Marcus a job.

The idea took root and grew despite his attempts to banish it. Quent hissed in annoyance and opened the first file. Seems mental breaks were today’s special.

Copyright © 2011 Libby Drew; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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