Gabe Wilson had been my brother’s best friend—and fellow dealer—in high school. Gabe was basically a walking penis. He oozed sex appeal and had a pair of dimples you just wanted to lick. All the girls fawned over him, and naturally I had a wicked crush on him. Since he was my brother’s best friend, I had easy access. Plus, I had a unique talent he and Ben liked: a gift for forgery. They let me hang out with them if I’d write their absence notes for school.

Gabe and I had connected a few times while I was in medical school, and yes, by “connected,” I mean had sex. But it had been years since I’d seen him. Gabe was a part of my past that I’d kept hidden from Nate.

Gabe’s face went slack with surprise when he recognized me, but he smiled quickly to cover it, revealing those deep dimples I’d always loved.

“Gabriel? Is everything okay?” A very young woman appeared behind him—early twenties, long, white-blond hair, sharp cheekbones.

She had an accent. Swedish? Norwegian?

“Hey, babe.” Gabe kissed her quickly. “Do you mind making sure pump two is working?”

She shrugged and went outside.

“What do you want?” he asked when she’d left. His voice was decidedly cooler this time.

“I need your help.” I plopped my bag on the counter and pulled out a stack of prescription pads, the ones I’d stolen from the clinic last night.

Drugs had ruined my brother’s life, but maybe they could save Josh’s.

“I’ve signed a bunch of these prescriptions for OxyContin. I need your help selling them.”

CHAPTER 9

GABE REARED BACK AS if I’d reached across the counter and punched him in the teeth.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, glancing out the window. “I don’t sell drugs anymore. How did you even find me?”

“Facebook.”

“Well unfind me. I got out of that game when I bought this place.”

I withdrew five of the prescriptions I’d signed and thrust them at him. The signatures of my colleagues had been easy to forge. Nobody could read a doctor’s signature anyway.

“Please!” I shook the prescriptions at him. “My son has leukemia. He’s at Cascade Regional on an IV, for God’s sake! I need the money to pay for his treatment.”

Gabe looked horrified, as I knew he would. His sister had died of cancer when he was a kid, leaving parents who never really recovered from the loss. They’d eventually divorced, his dad running off and leaving Gabe with a single mother who’d been so busy trying to provide for him she’d barely been around to take care of him.