PURPLE HEART - Soliders Of Fortune [BOOK TWO]

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Sunday 'Sunny' Santos

"The who?" I ask, taking a chasing step after Max as he confidently swaggers towards the door..

He pauses, his hand reaching for the deadbolt.. "The doctor.. "

Hurrying to his side, I plead up at him.. "Oh, please no.. Max, I told you last night-"

"Last night you told me you wanted to stay.." The surly Loan Shark turns to glare down at me without a hint of flexibility to his harsh words.. He is not tactful or sensitive, he is not apologetic or apathetic, he is firm and intimidating in his stern conviction.. "Is that still true?"

"I-yes- I want to stay.." My voice is barely above a peep..

"Then do as I ask, and don't question me again.." Darkening to drip merciless authority, Max becomes an immovable object and I can immediately tell there will be no compromise..

I nod, swallowing thickly and preparing myself to be judged, prodded and poked by some uppity doctor.. "Si, Señor.."

Max opens the door to welcome a charming green-eyed man with dirty blonde hair and a casual grin.. Whoever he is, he is alarmingly handsome and notably young for a doctor..

"Ó'Cléirigh.." The Loan Shark greets the man with a rigid nod..

"Good't see ya, Angel.." The doctor shares a firm handshake with Max before thrusting his hand forward to greet me.. I recoil reflexively from his sudden movement, wary of this unknown man.. "I didn'ee mean to startle ya' Miss Santos, me' name is Saint Ó'Cléirigh, I'm a doctor-"

"I'm really fine doctor-" My concerned gaze flits towards Max, who simply stares back at me without a trace of guilt in his sparkling sapphires.. However those deep lagoons seem to swim with a seething rumination.. Something dark and brooding dances behind his eyes..

"I'd say that makes my job a fair might easier then, Lass.." The Irish doctor smiles a friendly dimpled grin, the melody of an Gaelic lilt softly straining his vowels.. "And it's a good t'ing too, you know, field medicine is really more my speed.."

Confused, I look to Max for an explanation and he reluctantly obliges.. "We served together, Zayka.. I trust him.."

"Hard not to trust a man who once held ya' gizzards in his hands, am'i'rite Angel?" Saint winks at his friend only to receive a prickly pointed stare in return.. Whatever Saint is talking about, Max certainly does not want to hear it..

Or perhaps he doesn't want me to hear it.. But I do..

"What do you mean gizzards?" I frown in confusion, unsure if the word even means what I think it does..
It conjures up visuals of innards and giblets, the kind you would yank from the inside of a thanksgiving turkey.. But the thought doesn't make complete sense to me..

I mean, how could a man actually survive without his gizzards?

"Tis' a doozy of a tale, Miss Santos-" Saint holds out a hand in a sweeping motion, directing me to move and inviting me to sit on the plush leather sofa beside him.. "Lemme' tell ya all about it.."