Fiasco (Dirty Aces MC Book 6), Lane Hart [most interesting books to read txt] 📗

also need to be given something for the pain, sooner rather than later if he’s to be kept alive. And the costs could be much greater if he needs surgery…”

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Phillip says.

“Can you give us a moment to talk outside?” I ask the vet, who nods.

“I’ll get the pain meds started. It’s the least I can do until you make a decision.” And the least he can do for being unprofessional when he was ogling my boobs, I think to myself. Although it’s not his fault I left the house without putting on clothes or grabbing a jacket.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I pull on Phillip’s arm to try and get him to come outside with me. He doesn’t budge. “Phillip? Let’s get some air and talk this over.”

He reaches for the dog’s head and rubs it again before he finally nods and lets me pull him out of the exam room and to the parking lot.

Phillip leans against the side of my car and runs his fingers through the front of his floppy blond hair while staring at his shoes. “I don’t have an extra thousand dollars.”

“It’s a lot of money,” I agree.

“But I can’t let him die!”

“I know,” I agree. “It’s a tough decision. But you don’t want him to suffer either, do you?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll find the money somewhere.” Looking up, he glances over at the closed stores across the street. “Even if I have to rob one of these joints.”

At first, I think I misheard him.

“You can’t be serious,” I say. But then I remember that he’s an outlaw biker and he’s incredibly desperate to help the dog. It’s sort of sweet in a way but confusing, to say the least. “Phillip? You know this wasn’t your fault, right? The dog ran out in front of you. It happens all the time.”

“No. I can’t…I won’t let another dog die because I fucked up.”

“Another dog?” I ask in confusion.

“Can you take me to my bike?” he asks. “I need my helmet or a ski mask…”

“No, Phillip! I won’t let you rob a store! Are you crazy?”

“What else can I do, Joanna?” he asks. “Today was the first time I’ve worked in two weeks! I don’t have an extra thousand dollars just lying around.”

“I do,” I tell him.

“What?” he looks at me with his brow furrowed. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you,” I say as I go over and open the door to go back inside. When I get to the desk, I put my purse on the counter and take out my wallet before telling the woman on the other side, “I’ll be putting down the thousand dollars for the dog we brought in.”

“Joanna!” Phillip says when he catches up to me. “Don’t.” He takes the wallet from my hand.

“I can’t promise I’ll be able to pay more if the cost goes over a thousand,” I look into his warm brown eyes to tell him honestly. “But shouldn’t we at least try?”

“You’ve already done so much for me, angel,” he says softly, his free hand lowering to his injured side.

“And Nash gave me more money than he should have for helping you,” I tell him.

“Nash paid you to…” He frowns as if it suddenly occurred to him.

“Yes,” I reply when I take my wallet from his hand. Opening it, I count out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and offer them to the receptionist. “The deposit for x-rays and all. If it goes over that, can you please have the vet talk to me before doing anything else?”

“Of course,” she agrees and then she hands me a clipboard. “While I get you a receipt, you can fill this out with your contact information and maybe give the dog a name?”

“Sure,” I agree.

I go over and sit down on the long, cushioned bench that runs in front of the wall to start filling out the forms. I barely get my name written down when Phillip takes a seat next to me.

“How much did Nash pay you?” he asks quietly.

“Eight thousand,” I answer without looking up from the form.

I get my address and phone number all put down. Then I look up at Phillip. “What do you want to name him?”

“I dunno,” he answers, leaning his back against the wall and straightening his cut. “How about Ace?”

“Ace is a good name,” I agree, knowing he got it from the Dirty Aces MC.

I write it all down and then get up to take the clipboard back to the receptionist.

“Thank you, and here’s your receipt,” she says, giving me the printout that I fold up and put into my purse. “Dr. Dallas will take care of…” she looks at the clipboard, “Ace tonight and give you a call before his shift ends at seven a.m.”

“I want to stay,” Phillip says.

The receptionist starts to say something, but I grab his hand to make him look at me. “You look exhausted. Did you work today?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t have gone back to work so soon.”

“I know,” he agrees.

“There’s nothing we can do here but wait. You may as well get some sleep while we do that so you can work tomorrow, right?”

He nods. “I guess so.”

“Come on,” I tell him, tugging on his hand. “Thank you for your help,” I say to the receptionist when I hold the door open for him.

Thankfully, my car isn’t far away because Phillip quickly turns into a drunk zombie, like he’s on the brink of passing out. He even has to lean heavily against the side while he waits for me to unlock the doors, like the weight of the world is suddenly pressing down on him. It was probably the adrenaline earlier keeping him going, and now it’s fizzling out.

“Ace has to make it,” he says before he rests his forearms on top of the roof of my car and lays the side of his face down on