“Spin.” I nudge my head to the curtain separating Isaac and me from the other dozen or so patients in the emergency department at Ravenshoe Private Hospital. Isaac and I have grown extremely friendly the past five years, but we’re not so chummy I’ll get naked in front of him.
When Isaac pivots with a playful grumble, I untether the cords pinching my neck. I don’t know who dressed me, but my god, even with the gown being three sizes too large, I’m on the verge of being strangled.
The events between bumping heads with Alex and waking up in a hospital bed with half a dozen stitches above my brow are a little fuzzy. It was only after the nurse gave me an in-depth description of the man who refused to leave my side until he was carted out by security did I realize Alex had brought me to the hospital. She figuratively painted him with as many panty-wetting details as females do when describing Isaac, but the addition of blond hair and heart-thumping blue eyes gave away my suitor's true identity.
Considering he lied in the lead up to knocking me out, I should have had security escort him out of the building. But for some reason, I asked the nurse to fetch him instead of giving him his marching orders. I don’t know why. He has an honest edge to him. . . well, when he’s not visiting imaginary friends and faking the demure life of an accountant.
There is only one way a man as fit and bulky as Alex could be an accountant—he works for a steroids company.
I grimace. My pained expression isn’t from my beloved blouse skimming over my stitches; it’s recalling Ayden’s declaration on steroid-using men. “It bulks up their muscles by stealing the nutrients frommuch morevital regions.”
I doubt Alex has an issue with his manhood. You couldn’t exude his choke-hazard confidence with a cocktail sausage for a cock. He’s packing heat. Unfortunately, I’m not solely referring to his crotch.
I was barely lucid in the elevator, but I was cogent enough to recognize the heaviness digging into my rib. He was carrying a weapon. Knowing he was armed should freak me out, but the pain medication at this hospital is top notch. Worry is the last thing on my mind. It doesn't even enter the equation when I spot a pair of blood-splattered shoes peeking through the curtain of the bay next to mine.
If it weren’t for my bent position, I would have never identified their owner. They are hard to forget since they were the last image I saw before a blistering of stars rendered me a blubbering idiot. Alex didn’t charge out of here to disentangle an accounting nightmare. He took up a spying station in the bay next to mine.
I should call out his lurking ways. Shame him for the stalker he is. But instead, I tug my skirt up my thighs, throw on my shoes, then spin on my heels to face Isaac.
His earlier frustration vanishes when I say, “It’s lucky you arrived when you did. My new friend was anaccountant.” I heave so loudly, half the residents of Ravenshoe hear me. “You know what I think about numbers men.”
“The digits never stack up,” Isaac and I express at the same time.
Nodding, I mock, "I like tigers in the sack, big heroic men like you. Not a pussy who thinks a five-second tumble in the sheets makes every woman shatter."
Isaac’s eyes shoot my way. He’s shocked by my underhanded compliment, but the surprise in his eyes is barely seen through his skepticism. On the rare occasion my battery-operated dates aren’t cutting the mustard, I branch out to oxygen-operated ones. I don’t have a type. A handsome man is a handsome man. But Isaac is well aware I have a fondness for blushers. It’s cute seeing a man’s cheeks colored by something other than anger.
Isaac should take a page out of my book. I’ve only seen his cheeks blush twice. Both times he was fuming mad. Thankfully, his anger wasn’t directed at me, and I’d like to keep it that way. Even someone as confident as me would wither under his furious glare.
When Isaac arches a brow in suspicion, I grumble, “What?! Can’t a girl mix up her prerogatives occasionally? We women are extremely versatile. You should try a change in palate. An entirely new world could fall at your feet if you altered your routine a little.”
“New world or a new woman?” Isaac asks, hearing the innuendo in my tone.
I shrug, praying it will hide my smirk. “Whatever tickles your fancy.”
I expect Isaac to recant that world domination is the only item on his agenda. Shockingly, he remains quiet. That’s even more foreign than walking away from a man who spikes my heart rate as much as he does my apprehension.
Chapter Ten
“Did she say pussy or pansy?”
A gentleman with ghost-white hair and a face full of wrinkles notches his shoulder to his ear. He’s been glowering at me since I darted into his bay unannounced ten minutes ago.
When I fled Regan’s room, I had every intention of returning to my car to tail her home as I have done daily the past six weeks, but something changed my course. I want to say it was a solid hunch, but my reaction to being called a pussy or pansy or whatever the fuck derogatory word she called me, I’m reasonably confident I’m not donning a white doctor’s coat and an angry snarl for the decency of the bureau.
I knew Isaac would pry into my private life before I began my placement at Ravenshoe. That’s why I went to great lengths to ensure my information, along with the other three dozen officers on Isaac’s case, was hidden from view. I’m not talking a standard concealment any half-assed hacker could unravel. I mean buried—buried.Even the government would have a hard time locating us.
So although I’d like to use personal protection as an excuse for my loitering, I can’t. I wanted to hear what Regan had to say about me. Would she brush me off as some random she bumped heads with in the elevator? Or did the worry in my voice when probing her on her previous stalking cases compel her to decide we’re long lost friends?
She doesn't seem like a liar, so I was skeptical the latter would occur, but I never anticipated she'd refuse to give my credentials to Isaac. I've watched Regan so intently the past six weeks, I can confidently declare she isn't a woman who jumps at barked commands. But Isaac is her employer. She's paid to follow his command. Yet, she kept my identity on the down low. I won't lie. My chest swelled with smugness. I may have even done a little jig on the spot.
Unfortunately, the air was let out of my tires only a few short minutes later. Hearing Regan admit she wants a tiger in the sack should have made my dick swell like it did my chest, but since she referenced a man I wouldn't piss on if he was on fire, it had the opposite effect. It riled me up with so much anger, the curtains quivered from my fury.
Isaac isn’t a celestial being. He is a mockery to the very definition of an alpha male. He had a sniper lying in wait to take down federal agents. If that doesn’t make him the scum coating the showers of the seedy motels scattered along Route 66, he’s the dog shit every runner lands on at 5 AM when attempting to improve their fitness.
He is also the reason I'm leaving this hospital with a vast amount of resentment. If he hadn't shown up, I would have driven Regan home, wooed information out of her, then closed Isaac's case without the remotest tiptoe into Regan's personal life.
Now. . . now I’m back to the drawing board. This isn’t the first time I’ve ditched one set of plans to unite with another. But it is the first time I’ve allowed personal opinions to enter the equation.
