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CHAPTER 2
Evan
My “easy”mission to collect intel on the dead soldier at the Grand Plaza had gone to shit. Not only had I failed to learn more about the scene per the request of one of our clients at the FBI, but now I had a sexy-as-hell, potentially dangerous, fully unconscious redhead slung over my shoulder.
I wasn’t concerned about the feds. Those lazy bastards had only called Bennet, my boss at Sentinel Security, to ask us to collect information about the scene because they didn’t want to show up a minute sooner than necessary on a Friday night. The case regarded an active-duty soldier by the name of Patrick O’Dell who had a top-secret security clearance, was in Chicago without his commanding officer’s knowledge, and was now dead from a gunshot. Everyone, including the Chicago PD currently crawling all over the hotel, knew the FBI would take over the case as soon as the local agents got off their asses and drove downtown.
I took back alleys and crossed the street a few blocks away from all the excitement, where I’d had the good sense to park my black Mercedes SUV. The vehicle was comfortable enough to transport the VIPs I often protected and big enough to haul around a veteran in crisis and an intervention team when necessary. The two sides of Sentinel Security, the paid work and the work of our hearts. So what the hell was I doing tonight, removing a potential witness—or worse—from a crime scene and not even giving the police a heads up about the disabled thugs in the parking garage?
I laid Red on my back seat, then checked the purplish bump on her forehead. I opened each of her eyes. The pupils were an even size and reactive, and her breathing seemed fine. That exhausted my medical expertise on concussions, and if hospitals weren’t an option, I needed to call in reinforcements. Shit, Kerri was going to kill me for this. At least maybe my younger sister would be a little kinder about my imminent demise than Bennet would be when he found out I’d walked away from my mission. Maybe I could convince Kerri, and later Bennet, and yeah, me too, that my unbelievably stupid decision was the right call and not some misguided signal sent from my undersexed cock to my lizard brain.
As much as I hated digging through a woman’s purse, having been raised to be more gentlemanly than that, I needed to find some ID for Red. If she didn’t carry any, that would be telling in its own right. Shuffling through her black bag, I realized it was a medical kit. She had said she was a doctor. I found a stack of business cards in one of the interior pockets and pulled one out to read it. There was a small photo of her in a white lab coat. The card listed her name as Dr. Samantha Bond, and had the name of a private medical practice with a Florida address and phone number.
All of which begged the question, why was a doc from Florida being held at gunpoint in a Chicago hotel parking garage at the scene of a probable homicide?
If Red turned out to be one of the bad guys, I’d have to tie her to the bed until I could turn her over to the FBI. If she turned out to be one of the good guys, maybe I could talk her into tying me to the bed and...
Yeah, that was my cock taking over. It didn’t give a damn about the mission. I sighed as I climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted myself to some lesser degree of discomfort. In the interest of doing my job, I’d have to stop being so picky about dating and just get laid. But when I glanced in the rearview mirror and my cock went rock hard, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied with a random hookup. I wanted the hot woman who claimed she was a doctor, thought I knew someone named TJ, and didn’t have the sense to run from danger to save her spectacular ass.
“Shit,” I muttered, because that particular lack of sense was something we shared.
I eased into traffic, and with a deep breath to steel myself, I hit speed dial #1 on my work phone. I usually didn’t call Kerri from this number, but I felt better having this conversation on my secure line. As I turned onto the highway, Kerri answered on the first ring.
“Goddammit, Evan, you canceled another date?” She jumped straight to offensive mode. “And poor Ellison was really looking forward to meeting you after I stupidly talked you up for two weeks.”
“Ellison, right.” When I’d texted my date—a fix-up courtesy of my sister—to cancel, she’d shown up in my contacts as Oblidate #5, and I’d racked my brain trying to remember if she was an Addison or a Madison or—
“You didn’t even remember her name, did you?” my sister accused. “Asshole.” She wasn’t wrong.
“Feel better now so I can tell you why I called?” I asked.
She let out a long, loud exhale. “Okay, fine, what’s your excuse this time? I mean, I see you’re calling from your work number so—”
“Kerri,” I said softly.
“Ev, I know that tone. What’s wrong?”
“You’re right, it was a work emergency,” I said as I took the next exit. “Things went a little sideways. I’m fine,” I added quickly, “but there was a bystander who took a blow to the head.”
“Do you suspect a concussion?” she asked, shifting seamlessly into ER nurse mode. “I can call ahead to the hospital—”
“No, that’s out,” I said. “Please don’t ask any questions.”
“Shit, it’s that kind of deal.”
Kerri was used to me not sharing the details of my job, going back a decade to when I’d started in the army. It didn’t make me feel like any less of an asshole for dragging her into this, but honestly, I didn’t know much more than she did at that point.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“A kick-ass ER nurse meeting me at my apartment as soon as possible would be a great start.”
She sighed again, then gave in like I knew—or at least had fervently hoped—she would. “I’ll be there. But I’d feel more comfortable if I could bring in a doc for a consult.”
I gripped the steering wheel, a “no” pressing against my lips. But Kerri was the medical professional, and for both her and Red’s sakes, I needed to follow her advice. “You have someone in mind, someone who can be trusted?”
“Dr. Inez. We deal with a lot of domestic cases together.”
My stomach lurched. “You do a lot of those cases?”
