Kissed and Conquered

Chapter Three: I Helped Them Pay

“Well, well, well, look at this—a college-educated knockout who’s still got that new-car smell,” the lead thug, a greasy guy with a gold chain that screamed ‘midlife crisis,’ leered as he grabbed Emily Harper’s chin. “Nice work, Carl. You sure you wanna pawn off this prime rib?”

“Pawn her? Hell yeah!” Carl, Emily’s deadbeat stepdad, grinned like he was selling a used couch on Craigslist. “Whatever makes you happy, boss!”

Emily’s stomach churned like she’d eaten week-old sushi. She slapped the thug’s sweaty hand away, her eyes blazing. “Keep your paws off me, creep!”

“Feisty, huh?” The thug’s grin twisted into a snarl. “Too bad, princess. You’re in our house now, and there’s only one way this ends—on your back. I’m dying to see what a fancy Ivy League doc tastes like.”

“You—” Emily’s protest cut off as the thug grabbed her lab coat and ripped. The fabric tore, exposing a flash of her skin that had every goon in the room gawking like they’d never seen a woman before.

The thug whistled, loud and obnoxious. “Check out the goods, boys! Who knew scrubs were hiding that?”

One of his lackeys piped up, practically drooling. “Yo, boss, can we get a piece?”

“Plenty to go around!” the thug cackled.

“Back off!” Emily shoved him hard, clutching her torn coat to her chest. Her glare could’ve melted steel, but her heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

“Oooh, that fire in your eyes!” The thug licked his lips, grabbing her arm and yanking it away from her chest. “That’s what I’m talking about. Taming you’s gonna be fun.”

“Get off me, you pig!” Emily’s voice cracked as she sank her teeth into his hand, hard enough to draw blood.

“Ow! You little—!” The thug howled, rearing back to slap her. Emily braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the sting.

But it never came. Instead, a yelp echoed, followed by a thud. Emily’s eyes flew open to see the thug sprawled on the floor, and standing over him was… Dr. Nathan Brooks? In a leather jacket, no less, looking like he’d just stepped out of a Marvel movie.

“Dr. Brooks?” Emily blinked, her brain short-circuiting.

“You okay?” Nathan’s voice was calm, but his eyes were colder than a polar vortex, a far cry from the flirty charmer she’d kissed in the hospital lobby.

“I… yeah,” Emily mumbled, her cheeks burning as she hugged her torn coat tighter, trying to cover her exposed skin.

Without a word, Nathan shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It was warm, smelled like cedar and confidence, and swallowed her frame like a cozy blanket. Emily glanced up, but Nathan was already facing the thugs, his stance screaming ‘try me.’

“Who the hell are you?” the lead thug groaned, clutching his stomach as he staggered to his feet. “You got a death wish, pretty boy? This is my turf! Get him, boys!”

At his command, the goons charged, brandishing pipes and bats like they were auditioning for a low-rent Sons of Anarchy reboot. Nathan didn’t flinch. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass, and when he moved, it was like watching a ninja in a bar fight.

With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed the first thug, sending his bat clattering. A swift kick dropped another to his knees. One guy swung a pipe, but Nathan dodged, grabbed his arm, and flipped him onto his back like he was tossing a pancake. The room filled with grunts, yelps, and the occasional “Ow, my spleen!”

Emily’s jaw dropped. Who is this guy? Her boss was out here single-handedly dismantling a gang like he moonlighted as a stunt double. Within minutes, the thugs were a groaning pile on the floor, looking like they’d gone ten rounds with a lawnmower.

Nathan dusted off his hands and turned to Emily, offering a hand. “All clear.”

For a split second, Emily swore she saw a halo over his head. She took his hand, her legs wobbly. “Thanks, Dr. Brooks. That was… wow.”

“Just doing my civic duty,” he said, but his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the thugs. “Now, wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

Emily froze, her lips pressing into a thin line. How was she supposed to explain her trainwreck of a family? She stared at the floor, hoping it would swallow her whole.

Before she could answer, Carl’s whiny voice cut through the silence. “Ow, my aching bones! Emily, quit standing there and untie your old man!”

Emily’s blood boiled. This guy—her stepdad who’d just tried to sell her—had the nerve to act like he deserved her help? Her eyes landed on an empty beer bottle by the bar. Without a word, she grabbed it, smashed it against the counter with a satisfying c***k, and picked up the sharpest shard.

The room went silent. Even the groaning thugs perked up, sensing drama.

Carl’s eyes bugged out. “Emily, what the—? I’m your dad! You wouldn’t dare!”

“Dad?” Emily’s laugh was bitter as she stalked toward him, shard in hand. “You were ready to trade me like a used car to settle your debts. We’re done, Carl.”

Carl toppled over, chair and all, blubbering. “I’m sorry, Em! I was desperate! They were gonna kill me! I didn’t mean it!”

“So you’d sell me out again, huh?” Emily’s voice was ice. She raised the shard, letting it glint in the dim light.

“I-I-I…” Carl stammered, sweating bullets.

“How much?” Nathan’s voice cut through the tension, cool and commanding. He looked at Emily, then repeated, “How much does he owe?”

Before Emily could speak, the lead thug, still clutching his ribs, piped up. “Five million! This loser’s in the hole for five mil!”

Emily’s jaw hit the floor. “Five million?” She whipped around to Carl, who was trying to sink into the floor. “You blew five million? Are you out of your mind?”

“Em, I swear, I thought I could win it back!” Carl whined, his crocodile tears in full flow. “I was gonna set us up for life—you, me, your mom!”

Emily’s hand twitched, the shard temptingly close to Carl’s face. “Win it back? You couldn’t win a goldfish at a carnival! You’re a walking disaster!”

“Hey!” the thug barked, struggling to his feet. “Don’t think your boyfriend’s little karate show changes anything. You can’t dodge the Vipers forever. We always collect.”

“The Vipers?” Nathan’s lips curved into a dangerous smile, like he’d just heard a bad joke. “That’s cute. Tell you what—I’ll cover the debt.”

Emily’s head snapped up. “What? Dr. Brooks, you can’t—”

“Done.” Nathan pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and showed the thug the screen. “Five million, wired to your account. Check it.”

The thug’s phone pinged. He glanced at it, then at Nathan, his bravado deflating. “Uh… we’re square. Let’s roll, boys.” The goons limped out, muttering curses.

Carl scrambled up, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “See, Em? Told ya I’d fix it!”

Nathan grabbed Carl’s collar, his voice low and lethal. “You ever drag her into your mess again, and no amount of money will save you. Clear?”

Carl nodded like a bobblehead and bolted for the door. Emily stood there, her mind spinning. Nathan had just dropped five million like it was pocket change. Who was this guy?

She turned to him, still clutching his jacket. “You didn’t have to do that. I… I can’t pay you back.”

Nathan shrugged, his grin back in full force. “Consider it a signing bonus for my new fake girlfriend. But fair warning, Harper—next time you owe me, I’m charging interest. Maybe a date. Or two.”

Emily groaned, but a smile tugged at her lips. She’d just survived a near-assault, a family betrayal, and her boss turning into a millionaire vigilante. If this was day one at St. Mary’s, she needed a vacation. Or a stiff drink.