Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (6 page)

Thorn

I slump down in the front seat of my SUV and pull the bill of my ball cap low as I watch Windy drive out of her parents’ gated community in her black and white Jeep Renegade. As I pull into traffic behind her, I scan the cars in the immediate vicinity and see nothing of interest. I’m shaken by how gratifying it is to be looking out for her again. Hell, being responsible for her has me sitting at a red light with a hard-on that could pound nails. I’ll need to get my dick under control if I’m going stay focused.

I wonder how she’ll react when she realizes I’m working for her father again. I think it’s safe to say she’ll be pissed. You would think that after all these years she would have a thick skin when it comes to her father’s obsession with safety. Based on the changes she’s abruptly making in her life, that isn’t the case.

Under normal circumstances I would never allow myself to be pulled into a family squabble, but nothing about this attraction I feel for Windy is typical for me. I enjoy women, I always have. Any woman I’m with knows I’ll take care of her needs -- and I make sure she’s begging to take care of mine. Everyone gets what they want, then the party’s over. I establish those expectations up front. Literally, easy come, easy go. But not this time. Windy doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not going anywhere.

I don’t need to wonder if she’ll recognize me after ten years. At 38, I take good care of myself. I haven’t changed that much. A little more meat on my bones, but it’s all muscle and I’ve gotten no complaints. On the other hand, if I had run into her on the street without first seeing the picture that I keep tucked in my wallet, I sure as hell would have noticed her, but I wouldn’t have recognized her. She’s changed that much. I’m looking forward to getting to know the new Windy. Hell, I’m looking forward to owning her, period.

Dr. Fairchild called last night to let me know she got that job and would be starting today – and that she’ll be moving in with Melissa after she gets off work tonight. He had a lot on his mind and I heard him out; that’s part of my job, too, and helps me stay in touch with my clients’ priorities. The more he talked, I knew I had made the right decision taking the assignment. This is a big day for my girl, and I have to admit to being impressed with how she’s taking charge of her life.

I’m not as worried about the new job as I am her moving into the Hearth and Home building. At least at the hospital she will be in a structured environment where the most dangerous residents are locked away and monitored closely. Living in downtown Louisville, on the other hand, she’s going to be subjected to street life and all the danger that comes with it. Windy is an intelligent woman, but school smarts and street smarts are two different things. She’s an adult, but there’s no denying that she’s been sheltered by her parents. I’m not about to let her jump into a world she’s not fully prepared for with no backup.

I pull into a parking space at Our Lady of Tranquility and watch Windy as she hops down from her Jeep and makes her way across the parking lot toward the entrance. It’s my first glimpse of her from head to toe. Watching her move with so much confidence and purpose has me horny as fuck in an instant. The fitted skirt hits just above the knee and hugs her perfect ass, and her legs go on forever in those heels. She has pinned her long hair up in a no-nonsense style that somehow just emphasizes the sway of that luscious ass. My girl wants to be taken seriously; that’s the only reason a woman would wear the conservative button-down shirt and suit jacket that she’s sporting today…but there’s just no hiding those magnificent tits. Jesus…The woman has me mesmerized as she makes her way across the parking lot. It’s almost more than my rock hard cock can stand, she’s so fucking beautiful. The photo didn’t do her justice.

Cash was right; I’m staking my claim, and soon. Here’s hoping she’s not picky about personal boundaries because I won’t be protecting her from a distance this time around. And that will likely piss off this new, independent Windy at first. That’s okay; I can’t wait to find out what she’s like when she gets fired up.

Windy

I push away the nagging feeling I’m being watched as I quickly make my way across the black top. Just to put my mind at ease, I look up in the direction of the hospital windows but the glare of the early morning sun and the tinted glass make it difficult to make out anything definite. It’s probably just a curious patient watching me from a 3
rd
story window.

It suddenly hits me as I make my way in that I don’t even know where to report for my first day of work. The nurse/receptionist puts my mind at ease by telling me to report to Dr. Brinkley’s office. I look at her tag and say, “Thanks, Karen,” and feel a sense of accomplishment when stops typing long enough to smile and reply, “You’re more than welcome, Windy. Have a great first day.”

“I’m planning on it,” I call out over my shoulder as I make my way down the hall. As I walk the gauntlet of oil paintings of former hospital executives, the staccato sound of my footsteps echoes on the tile floor.

I take a moment to stand in Dr. Brinkley’s office doorway when I see he’s busy on the phone. Without looking up, he waves me in and points to a desk in the corner of his office that wasn’t there yesterday. He places his hand over the receiver and speaks in a low tone, “Boot up the computer.” I set my purse to the side and do as he asks, even though I’m a little bit confused about why a desk has been moved into his office.

“Miss Fairchild.”

I look up to see Dr. Brinkley has ended the call and is eyeing me with a steady gaze.

“Yes, sir?”

“As I’m certain you’re already aware, I have hired you -- but there are some contingencies.” He doesn’t give me any time to reply as he continues. “You’ll be working as my personal assistant as well as my research aide. The position pays quite well and I can assure it will be much more hands-on than sorting case files.”

“You’re talking like you know I’m going to say yes.”

“If you’re serious about getting out from under your father’s control, you have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice -- and how do you know about my issues with my father?”

His expression is a mixture of smug impatience; as if he’s already made up his mind and thinks I really don’t have a choice. He clearly doesn’t know how headstrong I can be.

“You as well as said so yesterday. You’re acting as if the opportunity I’m presenting you with is some sort of inconvenience. You do realize this will give you the opportunity to finish your degree online and apply the hours you work here toward your degree, don’t you?”

I don’t remember telling him anything about my struggles with my dad yesterday, other than making it clear that I wanted to be judged on my own merits, but then again maybe it came up; we did discuss quite a bit yesterday. He’s right. If I do what he’s asking me to, it will alleviate me having to go to school and hold down a job at the same time. I can take my courses online at my own pace and apply my hands-on hours here at the facility toward my degree.

I breathe out a sigh of relief and try not to be so defensive when the man who’s now my boss is only trying to help me.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m pretty jaded from years of my father attempting to control my every decision.”

The closest thing I’ve seen to a smile crosses his full lips as he nods at me, “My father was a doctor, too, I’m well aware how controlling we can be. I think it stems from the chaos we deal with on a daily basis.” He unfolds his long, lean frame from the chair and stands, heading in my direction. He places his hands palms down on the side of my desk and speaks in a low tone, “Place your pocketbook in the bottom right drawer and lock it with this key.”

He reaches into his pocket, handing me a small key and waits as I finish the task. He then reaches around and opens the top drawer which is easily in reach of his long arm, and hands me a file.

“This has your magnetic key card, any paperwork you’ll need, and the passwords for your computer.” He takes a moment to lock eyes with me like what he’s saying is of utmost importance. “Treat your desk key, your key card, and your passwords like classified information. The worst thing you can do in a place like this is to underestimate those around you. You’re dealing with criminal masterminds who have no scruples and will not hesitate to manipulate you—don’t ever forget that.” He straightens and adjusts his tie. “Come…we still have your interview from yesterday to complete.”

My breath catches in my throat. “My interview?”

“You’re here to learn criminal profiling, aren’t you? The best way to do that is to deal with the most deviant patients face to face—under my supervision, of course.”

I move quickly to slip the sheet of passwords into my desk drawer and lock it with my new key. I slip the key card and my cell into my notebook binder and am once again powerwalking to keep up with the doctor’s long strides.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you didn’t hire me on to be your personal secretary,” I say as I silence my phone’s ringtone. Don’t want any interruptions.

“I already have one of those, Miss Fairchild. And, besides, you’re much too intriguing to keep behind a desk.”

I look up from my phone just in time to avoid running into him when he stops and uses his key card to open the door to the same room we used yesterday.

Once again the same patient is seated at the metal table that is connected to a metal bench and bolted into the flooring. She is in handcuffs, and her leg is shackled to the table. The only thing that isn’t giving me a complete sense of déjà vu is that this time she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking down at her cuffed hands, which are folded demurely in her lap.

Dr. Brinkley’s voice is low and smooth when he speaks to me from where he is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“The floor’s yours, Miss Fairchild. Ask the patient whatever you want.”

The woman still hasn’t looked up at me, which seems odd after the bold demeanor she displayed yesterday. I decide the direct approach is best. “Why are you here?”

I’m shocked when she looks up at me through her lashes, keeping her chin down. She’s wearing makeup today. She’s even more beautiful than she was yesterday, which makes no sense since she’s got nowhere to go. She glances over at Dr. Brinkley coquettishly before looking back at me and arching an eyebrow with a smirk. That’s when it hits me; she has some kind of fascination with my boss. It’s not uncommon for patients to bond with their doctors; they open up to their doctor during sessions; over time, the doctor gains their trust, as much as they can trust anyone. The problem is…the doctor’s only goal is to get information; the patient, on the other hand, is forming an authentic bond. That can be a very dangerous situation. It’s only a matter of time before she uses it against him.

“You look lovely,” I offer, trying to forge my own connection with her and perhaps make some progress while she’s in a more cooperative mood. “I’d like to talk to you about why you’re here.”

Her facial expression turns glacial. “You smell like money; a rich cunt who’s lived off daddy all your life.”

Well, that didn’t last long.
“I’m not here to talk about me; I’m here to talk about you.” My tone is even and I’m working hard not to show any emotion.

She ignores me and continues speaking. “Awwww, does someone have daddy issues? Poor little fucking rich girl.”

The contempt in her voice is palpable.
Yeah, she’s grown attached to Dr. Brinkley somehow. In her mind, I’m intruding on her space. I’ll be sure to watch my back.

I jerk around, cutting my eyes at my boss. His cold blue eyes remain on me and offer no compromise. He doesn’t speak, but I know exactly what he’s saying:
This patient is dangerous.
I immediately soften and nod my head yes in agreement, then resume the interview. I turn back to face her, maintaining steady eye contact. “Tell me about your kills.”

My request is met with silence, the woman’s gaze sliding up and down my body with thinly veiled contempt. She leans back farther in her chair with a smirk.

“Answer my assistant, Georgia,” Dr. Brinkley says slowly, each word spoken precisely, leaving no doubt that he is in command of our little group.

“I’ll consider it,” she replies to him haughtily, then smiles at me sweetly. “But I’m not sure you can handle my brand of sadistic, sweetie. You may be tossing your lunch by the time I get done giving you the sordid details of my…areas of expertise.”