Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (7 page)

“That will be enough for today; it’s clear our patient isn’t in the frame of mind to be interviewed.” I grab my notebook binder and once again I’m rushing behind the doctor to keep up. This time when we arrive at the elevators and he swipes his card, I note that his knuckles are swollen and covered in small cuts. A cold chill runs up my spine as I realize once again the doctor may very well be more dangerous than the patient.

“What happened to your hand?” My tone is accusing and I really don’t care. Would this guy go so far as to beat up one of the patients?

He stills, then cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. He raises a brow sardonically and answers, “If you must know… I did it yesterday sparring at the gym. Miss Fairchild, I’m not in the habit of beating the patients into submission. What you’re sensing in my patient most certainly isn’t an act of submission. You would do well to remember my patient, Georgia, is a cold blooded, sadistic killer. She sees you as an enemy because she’s developed a sort of obsession with me.”

“And you…are the feelings reciprocated?”

“I won’t deny I’m intrigued by her.”

“You say the same about me.”

“Apples and oranges, Miss Fairchild. You desire to decipher the criminal mind; Georgia is the definition of criminally insane. Female serial killers are a different breed. She is a specimen worthy of researching. To unlock the secrets of her insanity would put you on the fast track in your profiling career.”

I can feel myself flushing red as I silently reprimand myself for being so suspicious. I’m certain the other employees would have reported barbaric treatment of patients to the board if there were any incidents of patient abuse at the hospital. I still can’t get past the feeling there is a side to Dr. Brinkley that goes far beyond the impeccable professional he exhibits to the public. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’m being paranoid, I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to the doctor than meets the eye.

Thorn

Every surveillance assignment is different, my approach varying depending on the client’s goals and the subject’s behavior and lifestyle. I start every assignment with the same prep work, like background checks and preliminary analysis of their home and work locations. However, this is the first time I’ve ever worked an assignment that involved such strong emotional ties. Even when Windy was just a kid and I thought of her the same way I would a favorite niece or kid sister, I always felt protective of her. Looking after her was always more than just a job.

In my mind, she was still a kid…until her father slid that photograph across the table. That picture is tucked safely in my wallet, away from prying eyes like Harley’s. He’s lucky he still has a hand after he grabbed that picture away from me and checked her out like she was just some hot girl in a bar. It isn’t that Harley is a bad guy, but he is a player. I had to set him straight, let him know that Windy’s off limits, so that’s exactly what I’d done.

The more I think about it, the more I think Cash is right; I need to let Windy know I’ve been hired to protect her -- just like old times. She’ll need some help with her move, so that may be my best option. I can help her out by moving heavy stuff and also get a chance to check out her new digs in more detail. This isn’t the first time a job has led me into the underbelly of downtown Louisville; it is, however, the first time I have to watch a woman I care about walk into the lion’s den. Windy was stubborn when she was a kid and it sounds like she still is, but she’s met her match in me.

After I followed her to work this morning, I spent a few hours at our headquarters doing some initial research. Now I’m sitting in the Our Lady of Tranquility parking lot, waiting for her to get off of work. For now it’s the extent of what I can do until I make my presence known.

Windy emerges from the building, still looking fucking hot in her sexy suit and heels. I’m surprised to hear a low growl rumbling somewhere nearby…and even more shocked when I realize it’s coming from me. She’s being escorted to her car by the hospital’s executive director, Dr. Brian Brinkley. My afternoon of background checks included the employees at
Our Lady of Tranquility
, so I know exactly who this guy is. Since when did the head of this place start escorting employees to their cars? I feel a knot in my chest as he places his hands on her rolled down car window and talks to her for a moment before he sees her off.
Pompous jerk
.

What the hell is going on with me? My chest feels like it’s on fire as I struggle to subdue the territorial urges this woman is bringing out in me. I haven’t seen her in ten years, true. But now that I have, her fate is sealed…she just doesn’t know it yet. She’s all grown up and the rules of the game have changed. There’s no way I’m letting her go, and I’m damn sure not going to allow
creepy doc
to get his hands on her.

I start my car and pull out, preparing to follow her out of the parking lot. I glare at Brinkley as he waves goodbye to her. He squints his eyes like he’s trying to decide if he knows me—he will soon enough, I’m going to make sure of that.

Windy

I don’t notice the black SUV following me until I’m halfway home. Between turning down side streets and adjusting my speed, I’ve given this guy plenty of opportunities to go about his business and leave me alone. But more and more, it looks like I’m being followed and it freaks me out. I search my mind for all the self-defense tips I’ve picked up from a lifetime of watching crime shows on television.

Stay calm. Drive to a heavily populated location. Easy, girl, you’ve got this.

I pull into a busy gas station on the next block and park in the first space I see, expecting the SUV to pass by harmlessly, prepared to laugh at my overblown sense of impending doom. My rearview mirror tells a different story as whoever this is pulls in behind me, blocking me in.
That does it. Dude, you have messed with the wrong girl.
Since the best defense is a good offense, I swing my car door open and climb out, prepared to confront this asshole on behalf of women everywhere.

My first impression of this guy takes my breath. He’s huge. His black jeans and t-shirt hug his towering muscular frame. When he leans lazily against his car, resting a forearm along the top, his bicep bunches rather impressively and my mouth goes dry. I can see what I’m up against and it’s enough to make me wish I could reconsider my options here.

He’s taller than just about any man I’ve ever seen. My mind pulls up the hazy image of the only other man I’m aware of who would have a prayer of meeting this guy eye to eye. Of course, that S.O.B. isn’t here and hasn’t been here for years. I allow myself a split second to get pissed off about that all over again before returning my attention to the matter at hand – namely, the Neanderthal who’s obviously got all the time in the world to check me out as I stomp the remaining ten feet to his car.

I breathe in a lungful of pungent gasoline fume-infused air and prepare to give this asshole a piece of my mind that will surely go down in history as nothing short of epic. But before I can make a sound, my would-be assailant smirks at me and removes his baseball cap…and my whole world tilts, hard.

What. The. Hell?!

My eyes refuse to accept what my brain is spelling out for me in five big neon letters. My feet get in on the act, too; no sooner do I stumble over nothing than I’m caught up in two massive arms that pull me into a wall of hard muscle. It’s a surprisingly gentle but firm embrace that, nonetheless, knocks the wind right out of me. It takes me a few seconds to clear my head as I stare up at him. I know I should push him away and try to regain my dignity, and I’m definitely planning on doing that very, very soon. That is, until an enormous hand begins rubbing slow circles against my lower back. He touches me as if he has every right to. The firm, possessive strokes make my mind go blank as my body softens against him. My breasts really like where they are, pressed up against his chest. What’s disconcerting is that he seems to like it too, if the impressive erection making itself at home against my stomach is any indication.

“Thorn? What…what are you doing here?” I ask in a breathless whisper that sounds completely girly and seriously pisses me off, so I try again. “What are you doing here? Were you…hey, you were following me!”

The cocky half smile he gives me causes a confusing mixture of anger and nostalgia to course through me. Standing before me is my childhood superhero, the object of my agonizing teenage crush. And he’s every bit as good looking as I remember. I can’t help myself; I take a moment to take it all in – this time with the eyes of a grown woman.

A strand of dark brown hair falls over his forehead, just like the last time I saw him a decade ago. The nose that was broken in a fight years ago only adds to his tough good looks. It’s all I can do not to slide my fingertips across the five o’clock shadow that defines his strong jawline. And, oh, those gorgeous lips, still beautifully sculpted and full, despite the cocky grin he’s currently sporting. Gold-flecked hazel eyes study me with a mixture of intensity and humor…and something else, something new that makes my cheeks heat and my breath catch in my throat. The dimple in his chin completes the picture. It’s official: Thorn is even better looking than I remember.

I push against his chest and after a stubborn second or two he lets me go. He leans back against his car, folding his arms across his chest. His hot gaze slowly travels down the length of my body and back up, blatantly lingering on my breasts and my lips until, finally, he locks eyes with me. When my nipples tighten in response to his heated attention, I’m beyond relieved to still be wearing conservative office clothes so the traitorous buds don’t steal the show.

“I asked you a question, Thorn.”

“I’ve got a question for
you
, little one. Since when did bosses start walking their employees to their cars?”

The question catches me off guard. “What?” I ask, baffled. “How did you know… Wait a minute! How long were you following me, anyway?” I narrow my eyes and exhale harshly as the answer becomes obvious. “Oh my God,” I hiss, “Dad hired you to follow me. Again?! Thorn, I’m 24 fucking years old, for God’s sake!” Okay, stamping my foot like a child probably isn’t helping my cause but I do it anyway.

He stares down at me steadily, as if he’s memorizing every detail of my face, filing away his memory of a little girl with pigtails and replacing it with…me.

“One; I’m well aware you’re a grown woman now,” he says softly, his now hooded eyes roving hotly over me again. “And two; yes, your father has hired me. Wait, wait, now, shhhh…” he says, laying his finger over my lips when I immediately start to protest. “Now, I could have said no. Came real close to saying no. But here I am, and here I’ll stay.” He starts to take his finger away, but before he does, I close my eyes and press my lips softly against his warm skin. I do it without thinking, but in the next instant it registers and my cheeks heat up.
I’m a full-grown woman who still blushes. Great.

His body stiffens against me and I hear his breath hitch before he clears his throat and cups my jaw in his big hand. I close my eyes as he rubs his thumb softly over my lips, back and forth, as he speaks. “And three; I’m here to help you move and we’re losing daylight.” He moves his hand from my jaw and tilts my chin up between his thumb and forefinger, leaving me no choice but to look up at him. “Now, you still haven’t answered my question.”

And with that, I’m jolted back to the reality of Thorn’s complicity in my father’s controlling behavior. I glare at him, our baffling, tender moment over and done as far as I’m concerned. “I don’t need you to help me move, I damn sure don’t need you as a personal bodyguard, and, not that it’s any of your business, but Dr. Brinkley was conferring with me -- one professional to another – about a particularly challenging case.”

Thorn straightens and, in two lazy strides, is so close that all I can see is his massive chest. I take a step back to look up at him as he damn near growls, “Bullshit. He wants to fuck you.” He slowly starts to circle me, moving ever closer and manipulating the direction of my own steps until I feel my backside press against his car door. He stops in front of me and leans in, placing his hands on the car, one by either side of my head. My heart is racing so I take a deep breath and immediately wish I hadn’t; the man smells delicious, a combination of subtle cologne or body wash and something else that’s just him.

Thorn leans in until his lips brush the shell of my ear. His breath is hot against my skin as he whispers slowly, “And that…will never happen…as long as I’m around.” He pauses for a moment and in the stillness I feel him take in a deep breath before briefly nuzzling my neck, the stubble on his cheek causing me to shiver.
Did he…did he just smell me?
Whatever he did, it was no accident and I lean in to him before I can stop myself. Then the moment’s over as he towers over me once again, cap pulled low and all business. “Get in your car; we’re moving.”

I straighten my spine and poke my finger into his chest, determined to take back control of the situation. I’m shocked when I feel how solid it is. “Fine,” I huff. “You can help me move, but after that…no more following me.”

Once again the smart ass smirk returns to his face. “Not gonna happen, baby. You’re never getting rid of me. I’m here to stay, whether you like it or not.”

“Arrogant bastard,” I hiss under my breath as I shoulder my way past him and back to my car. I know he hears me because the bastard chuckles something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “Oh, I’ll make sure you like it.” Good lord. And I know he’s watching me walk away. Might as well throw a little extra attitude into my stride and show him that I’m not intimidated by his macho bullshit. Thorn is still an arrogant asshole; the years have done nothing to temper that.

I settle in behind the wheel of my Jeep and wait for him to move his SUV so I can back out. I smack the steering wheel with my hand and crank up the radio, anything to drown out thoughts and images that I am not ready to examine yet.

I cannot believe the day I’m having: I’m moving out to finally take charge of my life and get out from under my dad’s thumb, only to end up under Thorn’s. I shake my head to rid myself of the persistent image of me actually being under Thorn. I know deep down inside it isn’t Thorn I’m angry with, it’s me. It took a long time to get over my schoolgirl crush and stop feeling rejected. That’s exactly how I feel; like he abandoned me, like I was nothing but a job, a case, something my rich father paid him to do. The wound went deeper than I care to admit, but I dealt with it and life went on. And now he just walks back into my life like he never left, reigniting feelings I thought were gone. The difference is, this time the feelings aren’t childish and sweet. The ache in the pit of my stomach makes that clear enough. The feelings he’s stirring up in me are just like him: larger than life.

Well, I don’t need a hero now, thank you very much, and I damn sure don’t need Thorn in my life just because he’s getting paid to do a job by my father.

It’s settled, then. I’ll just tell him I don’t want him anywhere near me. I’m not about to let myself get pulled into his web again. The best way to avoid the storm of emotions that’s rolling through me is to keep him at a distance. I have to get rid of him and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.