Twisted Freedom (Freedom series Book 2)

by J Grayland

“Now, like I said, I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”

  Seeing the sincerity in her wide brown eyes, I was momentarily torn as the emotional swirl of uncertainty started to roll through my head, and it must have shown because Carmel patted my hand, stood, and picked up our dirty plates, taking them into the kitchen.

  “I thought I might find something more about my mother’s thoughts and feelings if I read it.” I started nervously. Carmel placed the plates into the sink and came back over to sit opposite me at the table, the expression in her eyes and on her face showing me that she was there to do one thing, listen.

  “I thought that if I read it, I would find a reason for her hate toward me. You know like maybe she was unsure of how to be a mother, or she was an alcoholic or suffered from postnatal depression or something. I don’t, I knew it was just something to blame her actions on,” I said as I concentrated on twisting my fingers together in my lap.

  “And did you?” Carmel asked.

  “No, I guess before I started reading, it I had some deep-seated hope that she had an excuse for who she was, but the more I read, that hope just disappears”

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said tenderly.

  “So am I,” I whispered.

  “Some people are just not worthy of treasuring the gift of a child. I never understood why that happened in life, but I do know it does.” I heard the sadness in her voice as she remembered her own struggles to have a child of her own, and I reached out to placed my hand on top of hers in comfort.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories for you.” She shook her head slightly, and we just sat there for a few moments, comforting each other for our own losses in life.

  “Well the way I look at it, I think the world somehow might have done us both a favor amongst all this heartache.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your momma’s loss ended up being my gain.” Standing up, I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. This woman, who had come into my life only a short time ago, had just given me more than my own mother had given me in a lifetime.

  That afternoon, after Carmel had left, I placed the diary back into the drawer of the bedside table. I needed to take a break from it for a few days. I also needed to concentrate on my first shift, which started at 10 a.m. Monday morning.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Nate

  Seeing the excited look on Casey’s face as she almost dove into the town car that was waiting for her outside King Security this morning almost made me feel guilty about any of the apprehensions I had about her volunteering at the clinic. But being protective of her was something that I didn’t think I would ever be able to turn off. I just needed to learn to hide it better. At least she’d agreed to Nick driving her there and picking her up at the end of her day. This was something we had discussed in great detail; a lot over the weekend. I couldn’t believe that she actually intended on walking there. Stubborn woman.

  She wasn’t so stubborn this morning, though. When I went back into the bedroom after taking a shower, I found her laying on her stomach, clutching onto my pillow with her leg bent and thrown over the cover. Her white tank top had slid up far enough to reveal a red pair of panties covering that fantastic peach of an ass. I couldn’t help myself. I just had to touch her warm, soft skin, running my hand from her ankle slowly up to the back of her knee, then gliding my fingertips up to her ass and sliding my fingers under the lace of her panties, making her stir enough for me to replace my fingers with my mouth. Moving the lacy material to one side, I placed open mouthed kisses on the soft cheeks of her warm flesh, then took a gentle bite, causing her to moan and sleepily say, “You must be really hungry this morning.” Looking up at her blonde, tangled hair, I could still see those sparkling, blue eyes with their thick, long lashes peeking through a fringe of golden silk. Fuck, talk about bedroom eyes. She had bedroom everything.

  Kissing a path along the top of her ass and over her hip bone, she turned to lay on her back, and I continued the path of tiny kisses across her pelvis and right to the front of those naughty, red panties of hers, inhaling the beautiful, erotic scent of her that always drove me insane. “I am going to have an early breakfast,” I breathed against the front of the lace, making her squirm her ass around in anticipation. I loved how free she had become with her sexuality, never afraid to try or enjoy anything in the bedroom. Slipping my fingers into the side of her panties, I slowly slid them down her legs, letting my fingers caress her soft skin until they reached her ankles and fell onto the floor. Running both palms up the inside of her legs, I slowly pushed them open wider and crawled further up the bed in between them. I was right where I wanted to be to enjoy my breakfast, and I did so thoroughly.

  On the drive into Portland, she fidgeted in her seat with excitement almost the whole way there. She had dressed casually in a pair of black skinny jeans, a cream colored blouse, and a pair of tan leather boots that came up to her knees. She also had a black sweater folded neatly on her knees, with her beautiful, long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that sat high on the back of her head. Even without a scrap of makeup on, she looked absolutely beautiful. After I parked the car, I escorted her up in the elevator and out to a waiting Nick at the front of the building and then turned to her. “You have Nick’s number in your phone, so just give him a call when you’re ready, and he’ll bring you back here, okay?”

  “Yes, boss,” she said with a mock salute. Then, standing on her tiptoes, her mouth touched mine with a soft kiss. “Wish me luck,” she said as she got into the town car and closed the door. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I stood and watched as Nick drove away and out of sight before heading up to my office.

  Sitting down in the leather chair behind my desk and turning on the computer, I buzzed for Laura to come in with her notepad. Within a minute, there was a soft knock on the door and Laura was standing in front of my desk. I’m not sure where Paxton found her, but so far she was proving to be one very intelligent, organized, and really efficient secretary who was very easy to work with.

  “Take a seat. I need some files brought up from Paxton’s office, and it’s a pretty big list. Also, I was wondering if you could book a table for two for dinner tonight at Giorgio’s around 7 p.m.”

  “Of course, Mr. King,” she said, then started to jot down the file names and numbers that I gave her. Twenty minutes later, Laura pushed a small trolley with a basket full of folders in it back through the door with Paxton following closely behind her.

  “Thanks, Laura,” I said as she left the office, closing the door behind her. Paxton dropped down into one of the chairs opposite me.

  “Looks like you have a full day ahead of you,” Paxton said with a grin and a nod toward the trolley.

  “Yep,” I said as I grabbed a stack of the folders and dumped them onto my desk, sitting down and taking the top one, before looking at him.

  “Is there something you need?” I asked him.

  “Just wondered where all the files were heading to, but I think I got my answer,” he said with a grin.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You, needing something to occupy your brain for the day instead of thinking about Casey,” he said, standing to leave.

  “That has nothing to do with it, I just want to get a head start on some of the contracts,” I said nonchalantly.

  “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said as he left.

  Smug bastard that he was being right now, I had to hand it to him. He’d hit the nail on the head. I really did need something to sink my teeth into today or I was going to sit here wondering how Casey was doing. I had to get a grip. She was right. Our relationship had been forged on me protecting her, and I needed to trust her judgment with this and roll with it, “Pftt, easier said than done, babe,” I said to myself, running a hand
through my hair, sitting back in my chair, and opening the first folder.

  The first file was for a small gym franchise aptly named “Ship Shape.” They had a total of twelve gyms scattered around the country. Reading through their requirements for the business, it looked like all they really needed was a well-monitored security system and hourly checks by a security guard. The gyms were open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and could only be entered by a swipe card. Jotting down a quick plan on the pad on my desk, I closed up the file and took another one off the pile in front of me.

  A small supermarket chain with only three stores operating in the area needed the same, a good security system, but more surveillance and some permanently placed security guards. The areas the businesses were situated in weren’t high risk areas for crime, but not low either. I made some more notes, then grabbed another file. Another nightclub that was just over the river in Vancouver with plans to open up two more later in the year. Going through each folder, I placed them in order of priority, as well as in order of difficulty and planning. By 1 p.m., and with my stomach starting to growl like an angry bear, I sent a text to Paxton to see if he wanted to grab some lunch with me. I felt satisfied that I managed to steer my thoughts away from Casey. It seemed my plan had worked—so far, anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Casey

  Nick pulled up outside an old red brick building with a sign above the single glass door that read “Healthy Life.” I opened the back door before he even had time to shut the engine off. “Thanks, Nick,” I said as I climbed out, turning back briefly to see the look of annoyance on his face. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  He replied, “Yes, ma’am,” and I closed the door and walked up the four steps to enter the building. Walking inside, I was surprised to see that someone had done some serious refurbishing. From the outside, the building looked a little old and run down, but inside, it looked freshly painted with an array of colorful artwork placed in a single line along the walls. The decor was clean and simple with black leather bench seats running down either side of the long room, separated by small tables covered in magazines. Walking down toward the reception area, I noticed that the bottom half was a solid wall and the top half was glass. Peeking through to the empty desk and chair on the other side, I noticed a door to the right of the reception desk with a small swipe card screen and a “Press for service” button next to it, so that was what I did.

  I waited and then started to wonder why everything was so quiet and empty. Was this place open today? Had I come on the wrong day? I thought that maybe I should give Paxton a call just to make sure I was at the right place. Fishing around in my purse for my phone, I found the ID card that Paxton had given me when I signed the paperwork. It had my name on it, followed by volunteer Doctor, and it had the same name on the card that was written on the sign hung above the door outside, so yep, I seemed to be at the right place, and I was sure Nick knew where he was going. Just as I was about to grab my phone to call Paxton, there was a noise from the door that was beyond the wall of glass in front of me. As it opened, a young, raven-haired woman walked through. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, dressed casually in a pair of black leggings and a bright blue sweater. She smiled when she saw me and made her way over to the desk.

  “Hi, welcome to Healthy Life, how can I help you this morning?” she said in a what sounded like a well-rehearsed chirpy tone. Taking the ID card I had in my hand, I slipped it through the small gap in the glass onto the desktop.

  “Hi, I’m Casey Tyler, the new volunteer doctor,” I said with a smile. She looked down at my ID, then back up at me, smiling.

  “Well, hello, Dr. Tyler. So sorry to keep you waiting,” she said apologetically.

  “That’s okay. I was just a little worried that I’d come to the wrong place,” I said, looking behind me to the empty room.

  “Don’t worry about that, it will start filling up soon enough,” she said, looking down at the watch on her wrist. “If you go to that door over there, I’ll buzz you in and give you the tour before it gets crazy,” she said, pointing to the door to the right of me. With a buzz and click, the door unlocked. I walked inside and turned the corner, putting me behind the reception counter where the young woman handed back my ID card and then offered me her hand.

  “I’m Tessa. I work the office, appointments, and referee any fights that break out,” she said as I shook her hand.

  “Fights?” I asked.

  “Yes, normally due to a patient not understanding the concept of waiting patiently for your turn,” she laughed. “Come on, I’ll take you out the back and introduce you to the team,” she said. she turned and headed for the door that she had entered from, and I followed behind. Walking through it, we stepped into another corridor, but this one had numbered doors on either side. “These are the examination rooms where the patients are seen,” Tessa said as we continued to walk past them. It looked like there were around ten rooms altogether. “And in here is the heart of the place,” she said, swiping a card against an ID reader and pushing it open.

  We walked inside, and I saw that the much larger room housed a few work stations with desks and computers, a small triage area, and an open area with a large table and chairs and a small kitchen in the corner. There was a huge whiteboard attached the wall with the room numbers and what looked like names written next to them. To the left of me was another couple of doors and beyond that, what looked like an office with the door open.

  “You will be assigned your own treatment room for the day, and then your name will be written on the whiteboard next to the number for that room,” Tessa said, pointing at the whiteboard. “That is the medication room, and that one is the supply room,” she said, pointing at the doors to the left. “In here is our floor coordinator. Come on in,” she said, walking to the open office door before giving the door a quick tap. “Hey, Diane, our new volunteer, Dr. Tyler, is here,” she said. As I walked through the door, an older woman with a mass of frizzy red curls and black-rimmed glasses stood from the other side of the desk, quickly making her way around to the front of it and greeting me with a handshake.

  “Welcome, Dr. Tyler. I’m Diane Banks,” she said as she shook my hand with enthusiasm.

  “Please, call me Casey,” I told her.

  “Diane,” she nodded back to me. “Please, take a seat,” she said, motioning to one of the chairs in front of her desk, and then turning to Tessa. “Thank you, Tessa.”

  “You’re welcome, I’ll catch up with you sometime later,” she said, looking at me with a smile.

  “I’d like that, thanks,” I said and noticed that she closed the office door on her way out.

  Diane leaned forward with her elbows on the desk and her fingers linked together in front of her. “I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve read your file; very impressive.” Her compliment made me feel warmth flood my face.

  “Thank you, I’m just happy you let me volunteer my services.”

  “Oh, no, we are very honored to have someone with your experience,” Diane beamed at me, making my cheeks flush a little more with embarrassment at her words.

  “Well, thank you. I’m not sure if have any more experience than anyone else around here, though.”

  “Now, you’re being modest. I’ve read through your qualification transcripts, and your experience is just astonishing. I’m just sorry that you have to go through so much red tape to work here in the US,” she said with a frown.

  “That’s okay, I understand. Besides, sometimes it’s good to go back to the beginning and refresh the brain,” I said, giving my temple a tap with my finger.

  “Well, we have a great team of volunteers here, and I’m sure you will be a perfect fit, so how about I give you the big tour and you can meet some of the other staff members?”

  “Sounds great,” I said, standing to join her as we left the office.

  It was a well set
up little clinic, with several doctors and nurses and a list of specialists who volunteered their time from the local Hospital. It was pretty impressive for a free clinic that survived on funds that were mostly donated by charity organizations and some help from local government funding. After the grand tour of the place and meeting some of the other staff members that were working that day, Diane led me into the staff room area I had seen earlier, where she made us both a cup of coffee, and we sat down at the table.

  “So, what do you think?” Diane asked as she took a sip from her cup.

  “I think that I am going to like it here,” I said, giving her a smile.

  “That’s fantastic. We are certainly going to like having you here,” she said enthusiastically. “Have you thought about how many days you might be able to come in?” she asked.

  “I was thinking maybe two days a week? If that’s okay?” I said.

  “That would be great, just what we need,” she said, smiling in a warm, friendly way that made me like her. She made me feel at ease in this new environment, and she spoke about the clinic with a lot of pride and joy in her voice. As we sat and drank our coffee, we slipped into an easy conversation about our lives and families. Diane asked me what had brought me to the US, and I briefly told her that I had met someone while working for International Medical Assist on a US military base in Ashgabat. She was interested to get more of my story, but I kept it pretty nondescript and managed to change the direction of conversation onto her story. Diane proceeded to tell me that she was born and raised in Portland, she was married to her high school sweetheart, who also became a doctor, and they had two grown-up children. Apparently, when the children moved out of the home, she decided to put her secretarial skills combined with her knowledge of the medical system to work and applied it to running the clinic. She had just started to tell me about her children in more detail when a tall, slim woman walked in. Looking at her, I wasn’t sure if she was a staff member or a patient that had somehow wandered into the back of the clinic. She wore a pair of torn jeans and a black t-shirt with a band logo across the front in bold letters. Her black hair was short and spiky, and both arms had some serious and colorful ink on them. She looked like she had just stepped down from the stage at a rock concert after playing bass guitar for the last hour.