Except that Kathleen hadn’t been Creed’s friend, she’d been his fiancée, and their relationship ended badly.

Homeland Security told Kathleen that Creed died in a terrorist firefight, and she believed it after attending his funeral. But years later she learned he was alive, living in Las Vegas. To Kathleen’s credit, she never tried to contact him. They’d been apart for years, and the implication was clear: he didn’t want her, time to move on. But then Dr. Box started playing cupid, completely unaware Creed and Callie have become a couple.

She should kill him. Follow him home and fucking kill him.

Except that she owes Dr. Box, big time. He performed the surgery that gave Callie full use of her legs after a bullet crippled her.

Last night she listened as Creed approached the table and said, “Hello, Kathleen.” Callie wasn’t ready for that. Her brain cells spun like tumblers in a slot machine as she experienced the old emotions: Betrayal. Abandonment. Jealousy.

She wasn’t mad at Creed. He’d been set up. She could tell from his voice he was upset at being ambushed by Kathleen and Addie. But he maintained his cool.

Because of Callie.

Because the dinner had been one of Box’s conditions for performing Callie’s operation.

Callie spent the first ten minutes fighting the urge to storm the restaurant and spray the table with bullets. Especially after hearing Kathleen’s smartass comments and mocking tone.

The bitch was happier than a news crew at a plane crash! Everything about her voice suggested she wanted to have fun at Creed’s expense. Clearly trying to make him feel uncomfortable, her first comment was characteristically bitchy: “Are you still dating Gwen Peters, the teenager?”

Creed said, “How’d you hear about Gwen?”

“Same way I hear about all your girlfriends: Amber Alerts.”

“Funny,” Creed said.

Then Addie, the little bitch in training, said, “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“A Fsh.”

“A what.”

“An F-s-h. Get it? No i’s?”

“Right. That’s funny. How have you been, Addie?”

“I’m good.”

“Do you remember me at all?” he said.

“Not really. Mom said you almost married her when I was little. She said you were really nice to me, and helped take care of me.”

“Well, you were a very special little girl.”

“She still is, Donovan,” Kathleen said.

You fucking bitch! He’s trying to be nice. He got forced into this bullshit confrontation because he wanted to save my legs, and here you are, sticking it to him. Is that your plan, Kathleen? Seriously? You better hope you don’t try to rekindle the relationship. Not tonight, and not ever. That would be a big mistake, because I don’t play well. I don’t share with others.