Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(47)

She held in a sigh as they walked into the emergency room, hoping this was Christopher’s day off. The last thing she needed was to be embarrassed on top of depressed and angry. There just wasn’t room in her head for another emotion. The admitting nurse took one look at her and motioned her toward the double doors to the side of reception. Maryse asked Luc to wait in the lobby, then followed the nurse down the hall.

Either they weren’t busy at all or Maryse looked much worse than she thought. But as they passed a couple of empty rooms, Maryse decided it was the first. Obviously she’d picked a great time to have an emergency. They had passed three empty rooms when the nurse’s pager went off. She glanced down at the pager, then shook her head.

“The second room on the left,” the nurse said, and pointed down the hall. “If you don’t mind taking a seat in there, I’ll send the doctor right in.”

The nurse muttered something under her breath as she turned, and although it wasn’t clear, Maryse could swear she’d said “as soon as I find him.” How exactly did one lose a doctor in a hospital? Didn’t they have pagers too? She glanced back at the nurse who strode down the hall with obvious purpose and shook her head.

Turning back around, Maryse studied the doors in front of her. Second room on the right or left? Hell, she couldn’t remember. Maybe she did have a head injury. Oh well, what was the worst that could happen—she opened the wrong door and saw someone naked or something? God knows she’d seen worse, especially lately.

She took a couple of steps forward and pulled open the door on the right. It was immediately obvious that this was not the right room. In fact, it wasn’t a room at all—it was a storage closet, but the most interesting thing was it was already occupied.

By Dr. Christopher and a candy-striper.

Christopher apparently had a bit of a sweet tooth, because he’d taken the “candy-striper” title to heart. His mouth was all over the girl, and if the volunteer coordinators saw what was going on under that uniform, Maryse was fairly sure they’d have had heart attacks right on the spot.

They jumped apart as the light flooded in, but it was too late. Maryse had already seen enough. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, and took a good look at the rumpled candy-striper, who was grabbing for the thin strip of lace wrapped around her ankle and trying to shove it back up her butt where it belonged. “That girl isn’t even eighteen. Are you crazy?”

Christopher jumped up and ran over to her. “Now, Maryse, this isn’t what it looks like. I was just helping Emily with her anatomy class, and she didn’t want anyone to see. She’s a bit shy about presentation.”

Maryse stared at him in disbelief and disgust. Why in the world had she thought this guy was a great catch? “Do you think I’m that stupid?” she asked, and Christopher inched toward her, his hands out.

Maryse stepped back. “Don’t step one foot closer to me. I’m warning you.”

“But, Maryse, honey, I swear I can explain.”

Honey? Honey! She glared at Christopher as he made the fatal error of touching her arm. To hell with it. She clenched her hand and punched him as hard as she could in the jaw, causing him to cry out in surprise. Staggering backwards in shock, he fell over a towel rack, knocking Emily, who was still trying to reassemble her clothing, down on the ground in a heap. The sound of material ripping seemed to echo in the tiny closet. Maryse looked down to see the lacy thong now hanging in two pieces around one of Emily’s skinny white thighs.

The commotion brought the admitting nurse and two orderlies rushing down the hall where they all screeched to a halt and stared at the spectacle in front of them. “Dr. Warren,” the admitting nurse said, her lips pursed in disapproval. “I thought Director Stone was very clear about this the last time. I’m afraid I have no choice but to report you. And I’d start packing my things if I were you.” The nurse looked at the candy-striper and frowned. “And shame on you, Emily. When your mother hears what I have to say…” She shook her head in obvious disgust and stomped down the hall, apparently in search of the director.

“Now see what you’ve done?” Christopher accused, struggling to rise from the floor.

Maryse laughed. “What I’ve done? Have you lost your mind? I wasn’t the one in a compromising position with a minor.”

Christopher rose from the floor and glowered at Maryse, his face bright red with embarrassment and anger. Emily, now reasonably covered and clutching what was left of her almost nonexistent underwear, scurried past and fled down the hall, probably trying to figure out how to avoid going home until she was sixty.

“Like you weren’t seeing other people,” Christopher accused. “We’ve only had one date anyway, and it was horrible. Hardly grounds for a commitment.”

“You think I want a commitment with you?” Maryse stared. “You have lost your mind. At least I don’t date children. You need serious help, Christopher, and if I were that girl’s dad, I’d shoot you.” Maryse paused for a moment, a vision of the rumpled Emily flashing through her mind. Why was she familiar?

Then it hit her—a video replay of her meeting with one of Hank’s “lenders,” who had insisted on receiving payment during his daughter’s soccer game. “Oh my God,” Maryse said. “You’ve been fooling around with the underage daughter of the biggest loan shark in Mudbug.” Maryse began to laugh. “That nurse was right—you better pack, and right away. If Lou Marcel catches you, there won’t even be anything left for the nutria.”