“Who gave you permission to look into my background? Especially my personal life?” she demanded, her tone stone cold now. She was fighting mad.
“I’ve been watching you for weeks, Elizabeth,” he said, purposely saying her name the way he’d heard Maddox say it on the few times they’d met. “It was part of my job. Get to know your routine. Get to know you. Find out who you talked to. Where you went. What you ate. Who you slept with.”
She staggered back a couple of steps. “You’ve been watching me?”
The question came out as if the reality of what he’d been saying had only just penetrated.
“That’s right. I’ve watched every move you’ve made for weeks,” he replied, stoking the flames with pure fuel.
Her eyes rounded. “I haven’t slept with any one since…” Her words trailed off and something achy and damaged flickered in her eyes. Some thing he couldn’t quite name and never wanted to see again.
“Since Maddox,” he finished for her. And then he turned away, unable to look at the emotional wreckage he’d caused. It hadn’t been necessary for him to push that hard. He could have stopped this before it went any where near this far.
“Try again.”
What the hell?
He turned back to her and she stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him. “What?”
“I said,” she hurled the words at him, “try again. People are dying. You have to get this right.”
Some thing shifted in side him then, made him wish he could turn back time and do those last few minutes over. He hadn’t meant to hurt her but he had. But she was too strong, too determined to let him win with out a fight.
Dr. Elizabeth Cameron was no coward.
Just something else to admire about her.
Elizabeth awakened that night from a frightful nightmare. David had been calling to her, begging her for help and she couldn’t reach him. No matter how she’d tried he just appeared to draw farther and farther away.
She tried to get her bearings now. It was completely dark. Not home. The safe house. Joe Hennessey.
A breath whooshed out of her lungs and she relaxed marginally. The dream must have awakened her.
A soft rap sounded from her door and she bolted upright. A dozen probable reasons, all bad, for her being awakened in the middle of the night crashed one by one through her mind. She felt for her glasses on the bedside table. “Yes?”
“Dr. Cameron, this is Agent Stark. We may have a problem.”
Elizabeth was out of the bed before the man finished his statement. She dragged on her robe and rushed to the door with out bothering with a light.
“What’s wrong?” The hall was empty save for Agent Stark. A table lamp some ten feet away backlit the tall man and his requisite black suit.
“I’m not sure there’s a real problem, but Agent Hennessey has requested that we bring in something for stomach cramps. Agent Dawson insisted I check with you first.”
Stomach cramps? Worry washed over her. “I’ll need my bag.”
Stark nodded. “I’ll wait for you at Agent Hennessey’s room.”
Elizabeth flipped on the over head light and rushed around the room until she determined where she’d left her bag last. She never had this problem at home. But here, with him, she felt perpetually out of sorts.
By the time she was in the hall she could hear Hennessey growling at his fellow agent.
“I don’t need the doc, Stark. I need something for—”
“Thank you, Agent Stark,” Elizabeth said by way of dismissal when she barged, with out knocking, into the room. “I’ll let you know if we need any thing.”
Judging by Hennessey’s bed covers he’d been writhing in discomfort for some time. “Why didn’t you let me know you needed me?” she demanded of her in subordinate patient.
“I don’t need a doctor,” he grumped as he sat up. One hand remained fastened against his gut. “What I need is Maalox or Pepto. Some thing for a stomach ache. Apparently dinner disagreed with me.”
Before Elizabeth could fathom his intent he stood, allowing the sheet to fall haphazardly where it would, mostly around his ankles, and leaving him clothed in nothing more than a wrinkled pair of boxers. She looked away but not soon enough. The image of strong, muscled legs and a lean, ribbed waist was already permanently and indelibly imprinted upon at least a dozen brain cells.
“Oh, man.” He bent forward slightly in pain.
Elizabeth tried to reconcile the man who refused the proper dose of pain medication with one who couldn’t tolerate a few stomach cramps with out demanding a remedy.
“Are you sure it was something you ate?” Less than a week had passed since his surgery, there were a number of problems that could crop up. Before he could answer, she added, “Let’s have a look.”
“Come on, Doc, this isn’t necessary,” he grumbled.
She held up a hand. “Sit, Agent Hennessey.”