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She knew he wouldn’t dismiss her concerns with platitudes, though the direction he took twisted her gut like a worn-out garden hose. He touched her brow, the cut under her bangs. “The mom attacking you was bad enough. But there was more to it, wasn’t there?”
This was probably what he did in an arson investigation. Noting the clues, documenting the information, narrowing down the problem so he could point to a source buried under debris.
When she sat up again, his hand moved to her hip. Maintaining contact. “She was screaming at me. ‘You shouldn't be a doctor. No one like you should be a doctor.’” Her voice hitched over the words, and Les rubbed a hand over face, then up over the cut. She started to rub it harder, but he was already clasping her wrist, taking her hand away. He squeezed it, hard enough to give her a twinge. Giving her the pain she needed to focus.
“I don’t know how to find the ‘professional’ detachment for something like this,” she admitted. “It’s not less important or horrible if the patient had been an adult, but her whole world has been destroyed. Knowing I contributed to it…”
He sat up and closed his arms around her as her voice broke and tears spilled out, no matter her efforts to contain them. Not as violent as the previous two times, but she’d just had mind and body draining sex. She wasn’t optimistic enough to think she was dealing with it better, or getting closer to making decisions about it.
“If I do walk away, decide to something else, it might be a relief, not to cart around all that worry.” Her voice was tired, broken. “Even if this haunts me forever, I won’t have to worry I’ll fail again.”
“You don’t quit because you’re afraid.” He spoke against her ear. “You quit because you know it’s not the right path for you. So until you resolve this shit in your heart, you don’t get to quit.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Says the Master who will put his foot up your ass if you give up on yourself.”
She thought about shoving away from him, but when thought translated to action, he just tightened his hold around her. She sighed, the fight going out of her, at least for now. “Brick, I hate being confused and indecisive. It makes me want to scream.”
“I get that.” He tugged her hair. “In the end, most things boil down to something simple, a truth that was there all along. Once you get to it, it will tell you what to do with your life.”
“And who with?” She tried for a smile.
He kissed her nose. “I sure hope so. Though for now, I recommend you defer to my vast insight on that topic. You have enough on your plate to figure out.”
She nestled down in his arms with a semi-frustrated sigh. But at least one decision had become clearer.
“I’d like to go home for Easter,” she said. “With you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Over the next couple days, Les resolved not to interfere with the work Brick had to get done. He’d already taken a comp day for her, and would be taking off additional days for the M&M and Easter holiday. He might be a workaholic with plenty of comp days stored up, but still.
She also wanted to shadow him for as much of it as was allowed. Which was why she was in his truck now. He’d reviewed Colin’s follow-up witness statement yesterday, and that, plus some of the other lab results he evaluated, were bothering him. He wanted to revisit the site, specifically the kids’ room.
When she’d asked to come with him, he'd initially refused her. He’d pointed out that seeing the stark reality of how they’d died was far more sobering than discussing it at Brick’s kitchen table. And yes, while she’d faced things like that in the ER, she had to acknowledge she was carrying things inside her right now that could be set off when she wasn’t expecting it.
The flip side was the M&M was the day after tomorrow and she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. She would lose her mind. Balancing the two arguments, Brick eventually relented.
The home was in a section outside the city that reminded her of the area where Rufus lived. Rural, along a narrow two-lane road where the houses were more widely spread out, and mostly mobile homes or smaller, older structures.
When they turned down the Whitfield driveway and Les saw what used to be a home, she understood Brick’s reluctance to bring her here. One half of the structure had collapsed. What walls and roof remained were blackened, sagging, or torn up with holes the firefighters had made to vent or contain the fire.
It was impossible to look at the ruins and not imagine the mother and two children who’d died in the blaze.
“I can take you back to that McDonald’s we passed,” Brick said, watching her closely. “They have wi-fi, and I can come back to get you.”
“It’s all right.” She pulled her tablet out of her bag. “I’m going to sit here and study, just like we talked about, while you go in and double check whatever it is you’re double checking for.”
Last night, he’d gone over so many variables he was juggling on this case, she’d gotten lost in all the forensic speak. Normally, she drank in details like that, but she’d been sleepy. The diagnosis for her fatigue was four earth-shattering multiple orgasms spread out over the day. In the bedroom, against the wall in the hallway. On the sofa. And on the kitchen table, before he made her dinner.
He told her he was just freeing up her mind to work the problem. Who was the smartass now?
The orgasms hadn’t been quick waves of sensation. Brick McGuire was a thorough man, and he didn’t believe in half measures. He’d taken her over fully each time, letting her explore just how intense sex could be when linked to a Master’s orders. Kneel. Suck me.
That was how it had started yesterday. Her reaction to oral had made an impression on him, one he was more than willing to revisit. She’d woken up in the early morning to go to the bathroom. When she returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on an enormous erection. He pointed to the spot between his feet.
“Kneel and suck me. I want to come in your throat first thing this morning.”
