Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (14 page)

Thorn

I’ve been so busy with everything that’s going on with Windy I haven’t had much time to work with the guys. Though the organization is top priority keeping my woman safe comes before anything. I still can’t believe the girl who had a crush on me as a teen grew up to be my woman.

“I see you took me up on my advice.” Cash chuckles as he pats me on the back.

I eye Harley when I respond, “Yeah, I have to keep players like this guy over here away from her.”

“On a serious note, you two will have a tight bond because you have so much history under your belt already.”

Leave it Cash to come up with some emotional way of looking at our union. I know it took a man like Cash to get his woman, Johnnie. She had been diagnosed with
reactive attachment disorder
also known as
RAD
by the professionals. They diagnosed her as a kid and he is the only man she’s ever been able to bond with. It’s pretty cool when you think about it. And she couldn’t have picked a better man. I’d trust him with my life – and have on many occasions.

“On a serious note, Cash is right. When you’re working in life or death situations like we do, you need a tight bond with your other half,” Harley says. This insight coming from him is a surprise as I’ve never thought of him as intuitive or particularly emotional. But I still can’t miss an opportunity to give him shit.

“Well,” I say as I lean back in my chair and cross my feet on my desk, “now we need to find
you
somebody to settle down with. Instead of sleeping with a different woman every night, you can bond with one woman. Hey!” I say as I snap my finger, as if I just had a great idea, “Windy’s roommate, Melissa is available. She lives wild and free just like you and I’m sure she could use a man with your rough biker looks down at the women’s shelter.”

“Hey, if I ever settle down it’ll happen naturally, not because the two of you force it on me.”

“Yeah, you just want to keep playing the field,” Cash says with a grimace.

“No, I have no problem with settling down, but when I do…I want what you two have.”

“And what is that?”

“I want my woman to not just be my woman; I want her to be my best friend. Oh, and she has to be able to ride on the back of my Harley right; if she can’t bend with the turns it’s a no go. And she has to be hot as pure hell.”

Cash and I look at each other and just shake our heads. One thing’s for sure, it’s going to take a special kind of woman to get through to our partner. It doesn’t mean I’m going to nix my plan to introduce Melissa to him. Personally, I think they’d be a great fit. In the meantime, we’re still working the car theft ring, and, since I saw Windy safely to work an hour ago, that means I have a stop to make. I get up from my chair and grab my keys. “Okay, guys, I’m going to make my way down to this parking garage and question the attendant.”

Harley jumps at the chance to interrogate a suspect. “I’ll go with you bro, I think we can convince the guy to tell us who he’s working for.”

“We’re not going to beat him up, Harley.”

“Hey…you act like I’m some animal who enjoys beating potential suspects up.”

“No…you act like an animal that enjoys fighting.”

“Somebody has to be the muscle for the organization,” he answers in his defense.

I roll my eyes and walk to the door. “Come on, Harley, I can use you, just be good.”

“As long as he tells me what I want to hear, he’s safe. Otherwise, all bets are off,” he says with a smirk. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who likes fighting as much as Harley does. He’s right, though, because more than once his boxing skills have delivered when diplomacy didn’t.

Windy

I can feel my boss’ eyes on me throughout the morning. It’s making it hard to study. I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid or what.

“I thought today would be a good day to take you on the full tour of the hospital. You haven’t seen much more than the interview room and the cafeteria.”

I welcome the opportunity to get out from under his all-knowing gaze that I feel like is reading my transgressions from the night before. Maybe going on a tour and talking shop will put my mind at ease.

“Sounds great to me,” I answer getting up and stretching my limbs. After I lock up my desk, I turn toward the door and stop short. Dr. Brinkley is looking at his desk, his eyes fixed on his coffee mug. His utter stillness has me holding my breath. I shake my head and try to breathe as he very deliberately picks up the coffee mug and places it to the left of his desk clock.

“Hmmm,” he says softly. “Strange, very strange.” I stare at the mug and remember that Dr. Brinkley is left-handed. The mug had been on the right side of the clock. Dr. Brinkley stares at me from across the room, and that stillness is back in full force for several long seconds.
There is no way he could know. Is there?!

I wait until we’ve exited the office before I look at him and speak. “If I haven’t told you before, thank you for letting me study while I’m on the clock,” I say, and then grimace at my choice of words. The less he thinks about that desk clock and the mug sitting next to it, the better. “I couldn’t have found a better boss than you and I appreciate all you’re doing to help me be successful. You’ve put me on the fast track and I appreciate it.”

He stops abruptly, turns and takes two steps toward me, now well within my personal space. I don’t move a muscle as he studies me. He takes his time, his eyes taking in each of my features with great interest. “I want to see you succeed, my dear. I meant it when I told you I’m intrigued by you. You remind me of myself—so inquisitive. You have a very bright mind and you’ll go far, if…you don’t allow your curiosity to get you in trouble.”

My face flushes, I know because I feel the heat as it travels from my chest to the top of my head. Once again I’m pushing down a wave of panic at the thought that he might know about my after-hours visit. I invaded his professional space last night. He’s doing a damn good job making me feel guilty, whether he intends to or not.

I’m relieved when he turns away and heads in the direction of the common room. If I’m going to be working with Thorn, I’m going to have to keep my game face in place. I’ve studied how to read others in my college courses but learning to keep people from reading me is something that will only come from experience. Why did my first situation have to be with someone of my boss’ caliber? I’m being thrown in the deep end of things right away by working with Thorn, maybe it will help me to critique the areas I’m lacking in, like turning beet red when I’m embarrassed or feel guilty like I do right now.

I encounter another test as I try to hide my horror when I see Terry, the patient I came in contact with in the hallway. I will her to go away but she makes her way over and stands in front of us, blocking our progress.

“How are you today, Terry?” My boss speaks in a calm even tone.

She acts as if she doesn’t hear him and looks at me. “I told you, he’s dangerous. He likes to hurt people.”

Undaunted, my boss addresses me. “Terry suffers from paranoia as a sub-symptom of her schizophrenia. What are the symptoms of that form of mental illness, Miss Fairchild?”

Why is he suddenly calling me Miss Fairchild?

“The patient suffers from auditory hallucinations, which is hearing voices, holding irrational beliefs about the government monitoring her, or there have been cases where patients have believed fellow employees were placing poison in their food. Even when proof is provided to confirm their suspicions aren’t valid, the irrational thoughts continue unabated.”

“Well, then, that explains things. Moving on.” The smugness in his voice mixed with his pompous expression is enough to let me know he’s finished discussing the matter.

Mrs. Bigalow rushes over, escorting Terry away and keeping her eyes low as Dr. Brinkley looks at her with disdain, as if she’s failed to do her job. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who is able to put someone in their place with just a
look
. Dr. Brinkley has the ability to make a person feel stupid—even when they know they’re right in their assessment of things.

So much for our little stroll making me feel more comfortable.

I follow closely behind my boss and study his suited frame. He’s always so well put together, from his impeccably styled hair down to his high-gloss Italian leather shoes. He really is quite handsome and when mixed with his cocky attitude, it’s a hell of a combination. I’m certain he does have his choice of women to
meet his physical needs,
as he’s already so openly informed me. He just isn’t my type. He’s too damn illusive and he has this way of making you feel like you’re beneath him.

No…Thorn is what I need; he has a way of making me feel like everything is going to be okay even when it’s falling apart around me.

Because we took the back way, I don’t realize we’re heading to the basement until we’re there. Another great opportunity to practice my game face.

“I thought it only fitting to give a tour of the most ominous space in the hospital. There’s just something about a basement, isn’t there,” he asks benignly, as he unlocks the door and gestures for me to precede him into the room. “After being accused of hurting patients, I should have an opportunity to defend myself -- don’t you think so, Miss Fairchild?”

He gives me no time to answer before continuing. “I’m certain you don’t actually believe I could hurt someone for the mere satisfaction of seeing them in pain. Why, that would make me a monster.”

He walks to the center of the room and scans the room, taking in its contents, one by one. It’s perfectly normal to him for the room to hold what an outsider would view as medieval implements. Without warning, he turns, his eyes boring into me with what appears to be an accusation.

“Do you think I could hurt someone?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, every muscle in my body on alert.

“Then you would do well to stay on my good side,” he says impassively.

“I thought I was.”

His chuckle is a low rumble as a small smile barely tilts the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I’m afraid the jury is still out on that one, Miss Fairchild.”

“I thought we agreed to call me Windy.”

“Yes…we did, didn’t we?” He strolls around the room, reaching out to stroke a leather wrist restraint here, a bolted chain there. “I know this looks cruel,” he continues, “a padded room with straightjackets and manacles. This is a necessary evil. When a patient becomes a danger to themselves or others, we have no choice but to restrain them, sometimes even drug them. You know this from your academic studies.”

“I know; I know what you’re saying is true, but to have a whole room dedicated to it is eerie. The fact that it’s in the basement adds to the grimness of it all.”

“That is so my ‘guests’ can’t disrupt the other patients. By the time they’re brought to this location; they’re completely out of control. In this room,” he says as he stretches his arms wide, his gaze fixed on my face, “no one can hear a thing. Any…behavioral issues…that need to be addressed are dealt with in complete privacy within the walls of this room.” He lowers his hands and steps toward me, placing a hand on the small of my back as he guides me to the door. “Rest assured Windy, this room is used at my sole discretion, when I deem it appropriate; I’m not a monster in disguise.”