"Mr. White, come to your office," Marcie calls out the second I pass my front door. Kayla helps me onto the leather sofa in there, and my doctor kneels on the floor next to me.
"Do her first," I order her without thinking.
"No," Kay says categorically. "He's been bleeding for ages. It's urgent."
Marcie nods and fishes in her kit for the instruments to stop my bleeding and clean my wounds.
"Kay, will you get me a whiskey? And pour yourself one too. You're still shaking," I commanded.
She walks to the wet bar next to my desk, her back to us as she pours two glasses of whiskey from the decanter. When she turns back around, she notices Marcie got me out of my pants, and her eyes narrow in on her. The real stare a tiger gave a hyena trying to sneak it's prey out of its den.
It was a stupid thing to do in Kayla's presence, but this was strictly business.
"Kayla," I say, tone stern. I don't need a dead doctor on my hands right now. "Play nice."
