by Eve Langlais
“Will mountain air affect your ability to work?”
“No.” She laughed. “Fresh air is actually good for me.”
“Then I see no issue with it. We wouldn’t be a very caring clinic if we held your past health problems against you.”
With that issue out of the way, it was back to reading more pages of legal jargon. Including the actual contract stating the terms of her employment. Then came the non-disclosure stuff.
Becky eyed the thick document. “Wow. Exactly what are you guys doing that requires all this?”
“This is more standard than you think with medical institutes that also have research aspects. Company secrets have to be protected.”
“Does this mean you’re going to take our cell phones when we arrive?” she joked.
“No need since there’s no cell signal.”
The reply stole her voice for a second. “So no phone calls to the outside world?”
“All employees are set up with terminals that are attached to the internet, giving Skype abilities as well as email access.”
“But let me guess, your company will read the mail and listen in to make sure we’re not spilling secrets.”
A small smile curved his lips. “Not actual people but an AI system that is programmed to flag certain words.”
Hard core stuff out of a movie or a book, which only made her more determined to take the job.
When all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed, Lowry tucked the documents into his briefcase. “That takes care of all of it.”
“When do I start?” she asked.
“Is one week too soon?”
Not soon enough. Especially when her doctor called her the next day with devastating news.
Chapter Four
Peering at the monitor, Jett frowned. There was the new nurse. The same one he’d saved at the hospital and had yet to actually meet.
A meeting that wouldn’t happen anytime soon since he watched her on a screen, which wasn’t some creepy way of stalking her. At his boss’s request, he was monitoring shit. AKA making sure the employees behaved. During his routine work, he happened to notice her.
Her bright smile—which tugged at his grumpy lips.
Trim figure—which tugged him below the belt.
Gullible countenance—that made a man want to shake her and ask her what she was thinking.
Jett had been around long enough to know she wasn’t hired just because of her credentials. Chimera wanted Nurse Frederickson, Becky of the glossy red hair. Wanted her not because she’d seen and heard too much. Not because she knew how to draw blood or take a temperature. The head doctor saw her as a tool. A means to an end.
Jett’s job was to ensure she didn’t get away. Which, given their seclusion in the mountains, didn’t seem likely, and yet Chimera had assigned him the task of watching over her. Especially once he learned of her journalistic attempts.
“I don’t need her spouting off to some newspaper about the secret clinic in the Rockies,” Chimera ranted.
“Then throw her in a cell on level six.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Chimera muttered.
“If you’re that worried about her blabbing, then cut off her internet access. Blame it on some techy problem.”
“I’m surprised you’re not suggesting a more obvious solution,” Chimera taunted in that sly way he had.
Kill the girl? “You want her gone, then say the word.” He knew it was the right answer, the only answer, so why did he feel a wrenching in his gut?
“I just might. You’re a good company man,” his boss praised.
No, he was a man who didn’t give a shit what others did so long as it didn’t affect him or his bottom line. One woman with a quirky smile wasn’t worth causing shit over. He told himself that and, yet, couldn’t quite shake an unsettled feeling.
A few days later, taken off the employee stalking roster and put on a floor shift, Jett ran into the new nurse, or rather she ran into him.
Literally.
She emerged from a room as he patrolled the corridors, keeping an eye out for wandering patients and personnel in the wrong spot. One of the many jobs he had. Chimera’s paranoia convinced him that everyone wanted to steal from him. Wanted to take his work and claim the glory.
The doctor wasn’t entirely wrong. Why just last month Jett had to take a certain guard to level six. The pussy blubbered the entire way. Claimed he did it for his family.
Didn’t matter the reason. The man betrayed the clinic. Chimera took issue with it. Jett provided the solution. The animal attack left the guard in pieces, which was why the boss was gracious enough to pay for the funeral and provided extended benefits to the man’s surviving family.
Which was a hell of a lot more than Jett would have done for a traitor.
Traitors weren’t the only things he sometimes dealt with. When patients escaped, he got to play the part of hunter. Couldn’t let the public know about what the clinic did. They wouldn’t understand.
That day, Jett played the part of regular guard, assigned hall duty on boring level four. The level where the patients slept. An easy enough task. Not really. Only an idiot would relax in this place.
When he’d hired on two years ago, Jett had not truly grasped what they were doing. On the surface, the Chimaeram Clinic seemed kosher, if somewhat psycho about security and privacy. Then he began to see things—things that didn’t make sense outside of a horror movie. He heard things—whispers, partial statements. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The clinic was playing in some very gray areas. Areas supposedly forbidden in the medical world.
A more up-and-up guy might have blown a whistle.
Jett wasn’t that guy. Especially since he could see the good they were trying to do. The clinic was involved in some cutting-edge shit. Shit that took cripples and helped them walk again. People dying of cancer and other horrible shit, cured. Not just in remission but fucking cured.
His own ma could have used that. She’d died when he was little. Breast cancer. Which meant he was left alone with his dad.
Cancer killed in more ways than one.
Of course, as with many treatments, there were some side effects. Craziness, which the doctors termed a loss of mental cognition. Violence, as some of those medicated turned feral and animal-like. Even some physical oddities that no amount of plastic surgery would fix.
But Jett ignored the fact the doctors experimented on humans, firstly because every single one of these patients had volunteered and, secondly, he was paid to keep his mouth shut.
Paid well. Plus fed. And he got to shoot things when the demons inside his head got to be a little too much.
Jett wasn’t what you’d call a nice fellow. The only reason he wasn’t in jail was because he’d joined the military at eighteen. They had a use for guys like him. Dispatched overseas, he worked out his aggressive tendencies killing shit. Enjoyed it a little too much and got discharged.
Blow up one wrong house and the higher-ups got mad. Never mind how many they accidentally killed by friendly fire. Or the fact that his superior gave him the wrong address. Jett became their fall guy.
He was released upon the world without a purpose. So he gave himself one. Modelled himself off that Dexter dude on television. But eventually he slipped up and the cops brought Jett in for questioning—and some out-of-sight high fives—which was when Lowry found him and offered him a job. As Lowry explained, the clinic wanted guys who weren’t afraid to act—and didn’t have a problem ignoring the laws.
Jett’s reply? I am your man. Who would have thought Jett would become a dedicated company man? Most times he loved his job.
Most times.
He did, however, hate his assigned rotations to level four. Level four was for those still sleeping as the drugs were pumped into their systems. Supposedly the comas were induced because, otherwise, the people being cured whined. Healing apparently hurt.
Why a guard for coma patients, though
, you might wonder?
Because when they woke up, not all of them were thankful and nurses were not easy to replace. Not good ones at least. Chimaeram had very specific needs when it came to staff. No attachments preferred.
Lowry preferred to head hunt those with no close family or friends. There tended to be fewer questions asked if the nurse didn’t return after her six-month stint.
They had to be of a certain age, the preference being early twenties to mid-thirties. Which Jett never understood. Surely older nurses would be better. Just look at how many of the nurses the clinic hired ended up pregnant.
With little to do, fucking was a favored pastime. Not that Jett indulged. Don’t fuck those you work with. A mantra he lived by. His hand was good enough when the urge hit, and when he accompanied Lowry on jobs outside the clinic, he satisfied his carnal needs with strangers.
And never looked back.
Which was why he would ignore the woman who ricocheted off his chest as she came bouncing out a door—despite the fact he got hard every time he saw her.
He’d done well thus far. Given he’d been keeping an eye on her, it proved easy to avoid her when she strayed into the communal area for food or entertainment.
Problem was, even though he’d avoided her in person, he’d not been able to stop thinking of her. He knew everything about her, from her fetish for ice cream to the strawberry shampoo she preferred. The way her left cheek dimpled when she laughed. How her ass looked when she bent over—in his dreams, that ass was usually naked.
She squeaked as she lost her balance.
His hand shot out to grab her before she could fall.
“Goodness,” she exhaled. “That was close. Thanks for saving me.”
Save? Technically he’d done it twice now. Totally out of character. He let go of her as if she suddenly burned.
“You should watch where you’re going.” Said in his gruffest tone of voice.
She seemed oblivious to the rebuke and smiled at him. “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this morning.”
There was only one thing to do in reply. Scowl.
“Are you today’s guard?” she chirped. “I don’t think we’ve met, but you seem awfully familiar.”
Maybe because she’d featured in a few of his more X-rated dreams.
“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked since she kept grinning at him.
“Indeed, I do. I’m the new nurse.”
No shit. Even if he hadn’t scouted her for Lowry it would have been obvious. The staff were always easily recognizable, given the owner had a perverse sense of humor. Maintenance wore gray coveralls. Guards, black fatigues. Doctors, the classic white coats, and nurses sported ridiculous little caps with a red cross on their heads. What surprised him was the owners of this place didn’t also put them in short, tight dresses.
She’d look good in something like that, especially bent over.
He glared at her, because somehow it had to be her fault that the thought even crossed his mind.
“We both need to get our asses back to work,” Jett grumbled.
Did the fool woman listen?
Nope.
“I’m Becky.” She held out her hand.
He stared at it. Stared at her. Was she seriously that oblivious? He wasn’t interested. Mostly. Kind of.
Fuck.
“Jett.” The name slipped past his lips.
She repeated it with candy-coated glossed lips. “Jett. Suits you. All tough and dark and menacing.”
Since every word she spoke was the truth, his chest swelled. It only served to deepen his scowl. “Don’t think flirting is gonna get you anywhere.” He knew the type. Bat her eyelashes, wet her lips, and expect him to do favors. “I’m watching you.” More than she knew.
The dimple appeared. “You make it sound so naughty. You been working here long?”
The woman seemed determined to chitchat. Jett didn’t chitchat. He ordered people to do their job. Hell, he should be doing his job, making the rounds. Looking and listening for trouble. The coma ward was the most deceiving of the places they had to patrol. The patients lulled everyone into a false sense of security with their deep sleep. But when they woke up… Full-on chaotic meltdown.
Totally awesome. For him at any rate. Others? Not so much.
Jett had once asked Dr. Chimera after an incident why they didn’t strap them all down. Apparently, it made the nurses’ work more difficult what with them having to flip the patients around to massage them and do their other tasks. Compared to the doctors and scientists, nurses were expendable in the grand scheme of things, which Jett wasn’t entirely comfortable with, but hey, he was paid to not care.
Before he could bark at the new nurse to stop being a lazy ass, she bobbed her head, the jaunty cap distracting, and chirped, “See you later, Jett.”
Not likely.
She slapped her card on a reader and bounced into another room, leaving him alone in the hall. A hall he’d already walked once. Yet chose to saunter down again. He’d just finished his second cursory check when he heard her call for him.
“Oh, Jett.” Spoken in a singsong voice. He glanced back down the corridor, noting her head peeking out from the first door, her cap pointing the way.
“What?”
“Can you give me a hand?”
He knew where he’d like to give her his hand. She might even agree to it. But he was on the company clock.
“I’m kind of busy.”
“Yes, I can see you are. All that stomping around, glaring at stuff. Very busy indeed. This will just take a second.”
“Is there a problem?” he asked, his steps clomping even louder as he neared her. He did not glare. He stared around with suspicion.
“Yes. The bed seems to be jammed. I need some muscle to help me get it to move.”
There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t get a swagger when a little woman asked for help.
He was no exception. Entering the room, she showed him the dilemma. The sheet had somehow gotten wedged in the mechanism that allowed the bed to change position.
With a little ripping and colorful swearing, he managed to free it, and the nurse clapped her hands.
“My hero.”
The use of the word “hero” threw him. No one had ever called him that before. Bastard, asshole, the cum his mother should have swallowed. But never the good guy.
It made him feel warm in a way he didn’t like, which, in turn, brought a frown to his brow.
But she didn’t cower under his stern gaze.
She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she turned her back on him and went to work.
Whereas he stupidly stared for a minute, maybe longer than he should have, as she bent over displaying a pert, round ass.
A man could grab hold of those curvy hips and slam into that tight—
Whoa.
Jett did an abrupt about-face and exited the room. No dirty thoughts about the staff. She was cute, but not worth the hassle. Last thing he needed was to give in to lust, bang her, and then have her giving him big cow eyes every time he saw her. Because he wasn’t the type to go back for seconds. It just encouraged women to be clingy.
As his shift finished, he had the mischance of bumping into her again.
He had to wonder if she did it on purpose, given how she flew out of the last room and once again slammed into him.
This time he didn’t grab hold of her.
She reached for him. And held on.
Smiled up at him.
Winked.
Winked in a way that made him harden.
Then sauntered away without saying a word, leaving him staring after her.
And that night, she was once again in his dreams. Wearing a short little dress.
Her ass was just as nice as he’d hoped.
Chapter Five
As the weeks passed, Becky’s frustration grew. She had yet to solve the mystery of the Chimaeram Clinic. Not for lack of trying. The people working in this place were a tig
ht-lipped bunch. She’d not made many friends among the nurses. Mostly because of a language barrier with several of them. It would seem Mr. Lowry didn’t just hire local. About the only woman friend she had was Margaret, who was standoffish at best and always changed the subject when she tried to talk about their job.
A job that was boooooooring. Coma patients didn’t do a thing but sleep. All day. All the time. Becky spent her work shifts flipping, massaging, checking IVs, taking blood, and emptying bodily waste bags. Sponge baths were also part of it, and at first she blushed mightily when she had to wash around the male parts of her patients.
Good-looking guys she should add. The girls, too. She had no idea of their names. The tablet with her daily instructions didn’t say much. It referred to them by a letter and number. Each one slightly different, just like their IVs differed.
Since she found the labels impersonal, she’d given them names. Pixie, petite, and perfect, her rosebud mouth waiting for true love’s kiss to wake her. Larry, a more brutish fellow with a Hispanic cast to his features and thick, silky black hair. JR, a big handsome fellow with short-cropped hair who could have been the twin of that character in Duke Nukem. Then there was Pixie, with the uncanny purple eyes. She’d opened them once while Becky was washing her.
Scared the shit out of her, especially since she did nothing else.
Almost a month here, and none of her patients had woken up, not on her watch anyhow, yet she arrived one morning to find JR missing and his room wiped clean.
The only person she had to ask about it was Mr. McSurly. The man was always around, usually sporting a scowl. At first, she thought it was his work face, and yet, the few times she saw him in the common area, he glared. For some reason he’d taken an instant dislike to her. Which kind of sucked because he was hot, in a dark and probably a serial-killer-in-his-spare-time kind of way.
His attitude usually would put him in the not-her-type category, yet despite all the other guards in this place that flirted with her, there was only one she wished would smile her way. The best she’d managed was a disgusted sigh when she tripped yet again over her own two feet.