a good cosmetic result, even for someone skilled in that area.
‘I wasn’t knocked out.’ The teenager tried to shake his head and instantly winced at the pain. ‘I swallowed half the ocean, though. Got any aspirin?’
‘In a minute. That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there and it’s near your eye and down your cheek. It’s beyond my skills, I’m afraid.’ She ripped off the gloves and took a few steps backwards, a slight frown on her face as she considered the options. ‘You need to go to the accident and emergency department up the coast. They’ll get a surgeon to stitch you up. I’ll call them and let them know that you’re coming.’
‘No way. We haven’t got time for that.’ The third teenager, who hadn’t spoken up until now, stepped up to her, his expression threatening. ‘You’re going to do it. And you’re going to do it here. Right now.’
She dropped the gloves into a bin and washed her hands. ‘I’ll put a dressing on it for you, but you need to go to the hospital to get it stitched. They’ll do a better job than I ever could. Stitching faces is an art.’
She turned to walk back across the reception area but the teenager called Jack blocked her path.
‘I’ve got news for you, babe.’ His tone was low and insulting. ‘We’re not going anywhere until you’ve fixed Matt’s face. I’m not wasting a whole day of my holiday sitting in some hospital with a load of sickos. He doesn’t mind a scar. Scars are sexy. Hard. You know?’
‘Whoever does it, he’ll be left with a scar,’ she said calmly, ‘but he’ll get a better result at the hospital.’
‘No hospital.’ The boy took a step closer and stabbed a finger into her chest. ‘Are you listening to me?’
‘I’m listening to you but I don’t think you’re listening to me.’ The girl didn’t flinch. ‘Unless he wants to have a significant scar, that cut needs to be stitched by someone with specific skills. It’s for his own good.’
It happened so quickly that no one could have anticipated it. The teenager backed her against the wall and put a hand round her throat. ‘I don’t think you’re listening to me, babe. It’s your bloody job, Doc. Stitch him up! Do it.’
Gio crossed the room in two strides, just as the teenager uttered a howl of pain and collapsed onto the floor in a foetal position, clutching his groin.
She’d kneed him.
‘Don’t try and tell me my job.’ She lifted her hand to her reddened throat. Her tone was chilly and composed and then she glanced up, noticed Gio for the first time and her face visibly paled. For a moment she just stared at him and then her gaze flickered towards the door, measuring the distance. Gio winced inwardly. It was obvious that she thought he was trouble and he felt slightly miffed by her reaction.
He liked women. Women liked him. And they usually responded to him. They chatted, they flirted, they sent him long looks. The look in Dr Anderson’s eyes suggested that she was calculating ways to injure him. All right, so he hadn’t had time to shave and change, but did he really look that scary?
He was about to introduce himself, about to try and redeem himself in her eyes, when the third teenager stepped towards the girl, his expression threatening. Gio closed a hand over his arm and yanked him backwards.
‘I think it’s time you left. Both of you.’ His tone was icy cool and he held the boy in an iron grip. ‘You can pick up your friend in an hour.’
The teenager balled his fists, prepared to fight, but then eyed the width of Gio’s shoulders. His hands relaxed and he gave a slight frown. ‘Whazzit to do with you?’
‘Everything.’ Gio stepped forward so that his body was between them and Dr Anderson. ‘I work here.’
‘What as?’ The boy twisted in his grip and his eyes slid from Gio’s shoulders to the hard line of his jaw. ‘A bouncer?’
‘A doctor. One hour. That’s how long I estimate it’s going to take to make a decent job of his face. Or you can drive to the hospital.’ Gio released him, aware that Alice was staring at him in disbelief. ‘Your choice.’
The teenager winced and rubbed his arm. ‘She…’ he jerked his head towards the doctor ‘…said he needed a specialist doctor.’
‘Well, this is your lucky day, because I am a specialist doctor.’
There was a long pause while the teenager tried to focus. ‘You don’t look anything like a doctor. Doctors shave and dress smart. You look more like one of those—those…’ His words slurred and he swayed and waved a hand vaguely. ‘Those Mafia thugs that you see in films.’
‘Then you’d better behave yourself,’ Gio suggested silkily, casting a glance towards his new partner to check she was all right. Her pallor was worrying him. He hoped she wasn’t about to pass out. ‘Leave now and come back in an hour for your friend.’
‘You’re not English.’ The boy hiccoughed. ‘What are you, then? Italian?’
‘I’m Sicilian.’ Gio’s eyes were cold. ‘Never call me Italian.’
‘Sicilian?’ A nervous respect entered the teenager’s eyes and he licked his lips and eyed the door. ‘OK.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘So maybe we’ll come back later, like you suggested.’
Gio nodded. ‘Good decision.’
The boy backed away, still rubbing his arm. ‘We’re going. C’mon, Rick.’ He loped over to the door and left without a backward glance.
‘Dios, did he hurt you?’ Gio walked over to the girl and lifted a hand to her neck. The skin was slightly reddened and he stroked a finger carefully over the bruising with a frown. ‘We should call the police now.’
She shook her head and backed away. ‘No need. He didn’t hurt me.’ She glanced towards the teenager who was still sprawled over the seats of her waiting room and gave a wry shake of her head. ‘If you’re Dr Moretti, we’d better see to him before he’s sick on the floor or bleeds to death over my chairs.’
‘It won’t hurt him to wait for two minutes. You should call the police.’ Gio’s tone was firm. He didn’t want to be too graphic about what might have happened, but it was important that she acknowledge the danger. It hadn’t escaped him that if he hadn’t decided to arrive at the surgery early, she would have been on her own with them. ‘You should call them.’
She rubbed her neck. ‘I suppose you’re right. All right, I’ll do it when I get a minute.’
‘Does this happen often? I imagined I was coming to a quiet seaside village. Not some hotbed of violence.’
‘There’s nothing quiet about this place, at least not in the middle of summer,’ she said wearily. ‘We’re the only doctors’ surgery in this part of the town and the nearest A and E is twenty miles down the coast so, yes, we get our fair share of drama. David probably didn’t tell you that when he was persuading you to take the job. You can leave now, if you like.’
His eyes rested on her soft mouth. ‘I’m not leaving.’
There was a brief silence. A silence during which
