Digitalis (8 page)

“Oh!” Piper spun and threw her arms around his neck. “She did it!”

Surprise lit through Colton, and he lost his good mind, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest tightly. In the seconds before sheer satisfaction closed his eyes, he saw Foxy rolling to her feet so she could tend her baby.

Piper slowly eased out of his embrace, her head down and cheeks filled with a rosy tinge. “I’m … I …” She held her left arm awkwardly to the side. “I got your T-shirt dirty.”

“I don’t care.”
Marry me
. His mind had gone rogue. “It’ll wash.” But his feelings wouldn’t. He was in deep. The thing that irked him the most: He didn’t want out. He wanted Piper. Wanted a life with her.

But that meant telling her.

Everything.

He couldn’t do that.

C
rimson curtains hung like sentinels on either side of the massive marble columns lining the entrance to the ballroom. Women dressed in expensive fabrics and jewels adorned the gilded hall, their heels clicking over the highly glossed floors. Men sporting their military regalia puffed their chests as much in salute to the women on their arms as to the gold glittering on their lapels.

Rich fools, all of them. They had a traitor in their midst. One besides him.

And that made his instincts blaze. Who’d beaten him to the general? Fingering the buttons on his suit to make sure he’d fastened them, he let his gaze roll lazily over the sea of people, tucking aside his fury.

Armed with the keys to the Hummer he’d lifted from an overstuffed diplomat, Azzan hustled down the expansive steps leading to the circular drive. At the water fountain, he banked right. Toward the parking area where hundreds of vehicles waited.

A guard stepped toward him.

Clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder, Azzan Yasir smiled.
“Assalaam Alaikum
. “ He gave the familiar peace-be-upon-you, which demanded the other person reciprocate.

Wary and uncertain, the guard finally gave a slow, furtive nod.
“Wa Alaikum assalaam. “

Relief sifted through Azzan, no doubt undetected by this ill-trained guard who held his weapon as a prize, not a part of him. “It is a quiet night, yes?”

The guard nodded.
“Al hamdu lillah.”

Praise be to Allah?
Afraid not. Azzan could only hope this guard did not delay him much longer and tangle him in the ensuing chaos when the body was discovered.

“You are leaving early.” The man’s words were quiet, probing.

“Too much ego.” Azzan wanted to laugh at the man’s feeble attempts to extract information, but the uncertainty lingering in the guard’s words made him turn the conversation from himself. “You are the lucky one, stuck out here guarding”—Azzan waved his hand over the sea of fiberglass and metal—”the cars.” He tsked and nodded at the man. “A waste of such a fine soldier.”

The guard’s shoulders squared.

“Maasalaamah,”
Azzan said, hoping the good-bye would give him a clear exit.

“Fi aman allah. “

The conciliatory farewell blended with the gravel crunching beneath Azzan’s Versace shoes as he strode toward the Hummer. Lousy shoes were as uncomfortable as they were ugly, but the mission demanded the price tag. He climbed into the vehicle and stuffed the key in the ignition. As the engine turned over, several thoughts assailed him. The throaty rumble as the vehicle roared to life. The guards and soldiers rushing from the front entrance, shouting. The odd reflection of blue glinting off the front windshield. And the soft rustle of fabric in the seat behind him.

Azzan whipped his weapon to the back. What registered in his mind almost made him hesitate. A white hijab draped her head and framed her oval face. Thick dark hair curled at the temples. Terror-stricken eyes.

“Out!” He stared hard at her, the tip of her nose almost touching the steel barrel. The darkness pulled at him again, plunging him into the despair that had wrapped its tendrils around his soul. No, he must do this. With the weapon, he motioned her out. “Get out, or I will kill you.”

The girl cowered and drew back as tears pooled in her eyes. She glanced at the palace, then met his gaze and gave a small but frantic shake of her head.

He jabbed the muzzle against her cheek and nudged so that her head tipped back. “You think because you are young and beautiful, I care? Your brains look the same as anyone else’s splattered over the seats.” Words like that usually had their effect on weak-minded females.

She whimpered as her attention darted toward the royal palace again. “They’re coming,” she whispered, her Arabic quick and nervous.

A flurry of movement reflecting against the heavily tinted windows affirmed her words. The men rushing toward them were too close. He didn’t have time to drag her out of the car. He’d have to kill her.

Dod
would tell him to reach for the light in his soul, avoid the darkness.

No time. Azzan grasped the threads of reason his sage uncle’s voice offered. He reared his arm back and slammed the butt of the weapon against her temple.

H
eat swirled through his gut, matching the temperature in the first level of the brownstone. Colton sat on the edge of the flowery couch, arms propped on his knees, turning the Resistol Cattle Baron in his hands. Smoothed a hand over the black felt. Ground his teeth and felt the tension radiate across his jaw, down his neck, and into his knotted shoulder muscles.

Why? Why did Lambert have to require a monthly meeting with a shrink?

He wiped the sweat from his brow. Max had just about erupted when the general informed the team they each would be required to meet with this Dr. Avery or resign their positions on the team. Although Colton had calmed down his friend, he sure understood the reticence. He’d rather—

“Well, he was certainly accurate.” The woman’s voice snapped Colton to his feet.

“Pardon me, ma’am?” Who was accurate? What was she talking about?

A smile filled her smallish face as brown eyes sparkled back at him. “Why are you here?”

He handed her a slip of paper. “I have an appointment with Dr. Avery.” He glanced toward the stairs, wondering how the woman had approached without him hearing. Had he been that wound up in his own thoughts that he’d not heard her coming down the steps?

“Dr. Avery is ready to see you. Follow me.”

Colton had to temper his large strides as she led him around the stairs and through a small door at the back of the hall. There, she opened a larger door to the right, stepped in, and waited for him to enter.

Feeling closed in and cramped in the small office, he focused on the window. He shifted and turned around.

The woman shut the door and moved to a small cabinet. “Would you like a bottled water or a soft drink?”

“Um,” he glanced at the door again, wondering where the doctor was. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“Well, have a seat, please.” She motioned to two large, overstuffed chairs opposite the desk. One with its back to the door.

Colton tugged the hard, wooden chair next to the bookcase closer and sat. If the doctor was late, did the time spent waiting count toward his sixty-minute requirement?

Armed with a bottled water, the woman reclined against the credenza stretching the length of the suffocating office. She took a sip, her gaze never leaving his.

With the Resistol balanced on his knee, he peeked at the door again. “Did he get lost?”

“No, Dr. Avery is right here.”

He felt the color drain from his face. “Oh. You’re …?”

“Dr. Katherine Avery, at your service.” She tilted her head to the side. “I can see why you’ve been given the nickname Cowboy—which, as you know, is the only name provided to me by General Lambert.” She drew in a slow breath, then leveled a steady gaze at him. “You’re nervous. Can you explain why?” She kept her distance, but eased into one of the two chairs. “Do you find me threatening?”

“No, ma’am.” Had it gotten hotter in here? What was Lambert thinking, putting the team in the hands of a woman who seemed fragile enough to break if you looked at her wrong? It was hard enough to talk to Max and the guys—but an attractive woman who was disarming and intelligent? Not that she had anything on Piper. She didn’t. But still … “I meant no disrespect. I was … well, fact is, I assumed I’d be seeing a male doctor.”

She smiled. “Most men do.”

He nodded, more unnerved and agitated than ever.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we take a walk? I’m hungry, what little air is seeping through the windows isn’t enough to keep me breathing, and there’s a fabulous hot-dog vendor down the street.” She stood and grabbed her keys and small wallet. “Come on, Cowboy.”

When they strode down the hall, she explained to her receptionist that they’d be back in thirty minutes, then stepped out into the bright afternoon. But Colton couldn’t shake the humiliation of getting mixed up.

Donning his Resistol, Colton fell into step with her. A breeze wafted over the cement, and he took a deep breath, ready to savor being out of that confining office. But instead of clean air, he inhaled her floral perfume.

Okay, see? There. That there was a problem. It was distracting. A guy doctor wouldn’t be wearing something to make Jell-O out of a man’s mind.

“So,” she said as she peeked up at him. “Tell me your thoughts on the military.”

“It’s necessary.”

She arched her eyebrow at him as they rounded the corner. Shade draped over them instantly, bathing them in coolness. “That’s a convenient answer. Going to the bathroom is necessary, too.”

“Do you want to know my feelings on that, too?”

She laughed. “Fair enough. I asked for that one.”

Colton felt the first smile tug at his wound-up mood.

Thud!

He flinched and whipped toward the noise, his senses buzzing. A guy in a blue uniform pushed an upright dolly away from the back of a large, white delivery truck. Heart chugging, Colton tried to refocus on the doctor. He could see her lips moving, but the sound didn’t reach his ears.

She pointed to the side. He followed her finger and saw the hot-dog vendor. As she gave her order, he eased back and stretched his jaw.

“You want anything?”

Besides leaving?
Colton eyed her, then shook his head.

His gaze roamed the busy street until it hooked on the small park that sat adjacent to a school.

“Mmm,” she said as she brandished a dog laden with sauerkraut and mustard. “Nothing like it.”

“Ma’am, no disrespect, but that’s just wrong. A hot dog should have ketchup and relish, maybe a bit of mustard, but sauerkraut?”

She shrugged. “Raised in New York. You should be thankful it’s not onions; we still have thirty minutes.”

“Now, see, that’s why I stay south of the Mason-Dixon.”

Dr. Avery laughed but then took a bite. They quietly walked, and Colton found a bit of comfort in the fact she was leading him to the small park. At least there, they’d be far enough from sudden noises and sounds. He wouldn’t make an idiot of himself.

They sat on a bench that straddled the space under a shade tree while she finished off her lunch. He stifled a yawn as he monitored the foot traffic. The office building across the street with its two-story parking garage.

A chill scampered over his shoulders. It seemed familiar—but he knew it wasn’t. He’d never been here before. But the tall building, the quiet section of street … watching his kid sister get blown to bits.

Colton lowered his gaze and shut out the memory. Couldn’t think about that.

In his mental memory banks, the sound of dribbling concrete raining down on him pulled his mind into another scenario—when he’d been ambushed and taken captive.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How bad are the flashbacks?”

Despite the gentle, caring tone, Colton snapped his gaze to hers.

Steady brown eyes held his. She sat attentive, positioned toward him. Nothing threatening in her posture.

His attention drifted back to the ground. To his booted feet. “Bad.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I can go months without one, but then—”