by Elle Gray
“I guess we need to get you back to the hospital after all,” he says.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Still needs attention. Stop being a mule.”
I jerk my thumb at the burning pile of rubble. “What about that?”
“We’ll call it in from the road.”
“Fair enough,” I reply. “Oh, and Sheriff?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for saving my butt back there.”
He smiles. “Anytime.”
Thirty-Nine
UW Medical Center; Seattle, WA
“How’s Sheriff Hottie doing?” Astra asks.
I roll my eyes. It’s been a few weeks since the events in Briar Glen and Astra has not stopped talking about Sheriff Morris. She’s got a bit of a crush. Word of the building collapse and the deaths of all the cultists got out and Grant, of course, seizing the opportunity to needle me with anything he can, has gifted me with a new nickname－Demolition Girl. Charming. Especially since it’s caught on around the field office, which is really nice.
“Sheriff Morris is doing well. He said things are starting to get back to normal around there. Sort of,” I say. “They’ve got to elect a whole new city council, and a mayor, since they were all killed in the building collapse, but he said it’s a good time to start fresh… and make a few changes to the city charter. And I guess since he’s temporarily the acting mayor, he can do that.”
“And would one of those changes happen to be allowing him to date one Dr. Sofia Carville openly?”
“That would be a bullseye.”
“It really is a shame,” she says. “I mean, you were right. He absolutely fits perfectly with my daddy issues.”
We share a laugh as I shift on the examination table, the paper crinkling under me. Astra and I are sitting side by side, waiting for our follow up exams. She’s going to be out of action for a while. She’s got rehab after she finishes healing. All in all, she was lucky. The bullet entered her upper right chest but ricocheted off a bone and exited through her shoulder, rather than turning inward on her. If that had happened, Astra would be dead right now.
It’s a fact I’m cognizant of, and every time I think of what could have happened, it sends a lance of pain through my heart. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Like Maisey and Aunt Annie, Astra is an integral part of my life. I’d be completely lost without her. It would be like losing a limb.
But, as she’s reminded me a thousand times, it didn’t happen that way. She’s all right. She’ll heal and will soon be back to her normal self. And by normal self, I assume she means out in the bars after work, trolling for man candy. She says often that somebody was looking out for her that night and made sure she was all right. I don’t know what to believe in regard to that, but if it’s true, I owe somebody one. A big one.
“Hey,” I say and take her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I’m really glad you’re all right. I was so worried. I’m just thankful you’re fine, and I need to tell you that I love you. I never want you to not know.”
“This is awesome. It’s not often I get to see the soft and squishy side of Blake Wilder,” she responds with a smile. “I wonder how long I can milk this?”
“Probably as long as you want,” I smile. “Almost losing you, my best friend in the world, scared the crap out of me. It really did.”
She gives me a soft smile and squeezes my hand tightly, not letting it go.
“How’s your leg?” she asks.
“I’m fine. Like I’ve told everybody since it happened, it’s nothing but a scratch,” I say. “It was a graze, and not a very deep one at that.”
“Yeah, but you know the Bureau, they will exercise an abundance of caution every single time,” she replies. “Mostly so you have no grounds to sue them, but partly because they care.”
I laugh ruefully. She’s not wrong in that assessment. I’ve been on restricted light duty since we got back from Briar Glen. Meaning, I’ve had my butt parked at my desk for the last three weeks. It’s been the single most annoying and humiliating experience of my life. To be chained to a desk for a scratch. I’d hate to see what they’d stick me with if they saw how badly I cut my legs shaving sometimes.
“You need to learn to relax, Wilder,” she says. “Three weeks of nine to five days? Not having to do anything strenuous at the office? It sounds like heaven to me.”
“That’s bullcrap and you know it,” I fire back with a laugh. “You’re as anxious to be out on the streets catching bad guys as I am.”
She looks pointedly at her arm in the sling. “I’m kind of rethinking that right about now.”
“No you’re not,” I tell her. “You’re a woman of action.”
“That’s definitely what the boys say.”
I laugh. “What I mean is, you’re not content behind a desk. You’re definitely a kick in the door type of girl.”
She nods. “That is true. You got me there.”
We fall silent for a minute, simply enjoying the comfort of companionship between us. But then she turns to me.
“That was the first time I’ve really ever seen you get to be super FBI chick. You know that, right?” she asks.
“What? We’ve been on plenty of ops together.”
She shakes her head. “We’ve been on plenty of other people’s ops, as in backup, before,” she tells me. “But this is the first time I got to see you running the show. And I have to say, I’m really impressed, Blake. You really know what you’re doing, and you are one hell of a profiler.”
“The same goes back to you. There’s no way I would have made some of those connections that helped crack the case without you.”
“We’re both pretty fantastic and damn good at what we do.”
I nod. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Believe me, when I’m off these meds and back to normal, I’ll be drinking to everything,” she says. “I’m gonna tie one on like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh, trust me, I believe it.”
We’re laughing together as the curtain is pulled back and a young doctor walks in, then pulls it closed behind him. He’s tall and lean, and I can tell that beneath his lab coat, that he’s very fit. He has sandy blonde hair that’s neatly kept and styled, eyes a deep shade of green I’ve never seen before, and skin so smooth, it gives him a very baby-faced look. He’s got high cheekbones, a chiseled face, and a square jaw. To use Astra’s words, he’s gorgeous.
“Oh, I get a two for one today, huh? And it’s not even my birthday,” he grins, delivering the joke in an exaggerated cheesy way. “How are you guys doing? I’m Dr Mark Walton.”
“Nice to meet you Dr. Walton, I’m Astra, and this is my loyal sidekick, Blake.”
“Nice to meet you both,” he says, though his eyes linger on mine for a moment. “So, are you guys conjoined twins or something? Both of you have something wrong that I need to look at?
“Nah. She’s just here for moral support. She got shot, but she’s fine,” Astra says. “I got shot and I’m not okay. I might need mouth to mouth.”
“Unless you’re trying to get me to suck a bullet out of you, I think that might be unnecessary,” he says with an easy laugh.
“I’m willing to give it a shot. For science.”
“Science, huh?”
“What can I say? I’m a giver.”
He looks at his chart and frowns, then turns to us. And when his eyes fall on me, I feel something physically shift inside of me. His gaze is intense. I feel like he can see down into the depths of my soul. I’ve never been around somebody who’s ever made me feel that way before. I’m always very tightly guarded. Nobody ever gets in unless I allow it. And yet, he seems to get past my defenses without even trying. It’s as disconcerting as it is exhilarating.
“So tell me, how is it you both came to be shot?” he asks.
“We both work for the Bureau,” Astra says. “It’s a natural hazard of the job.”
“The Bureau,” he replies. “As
in, the FBI?”
She nods. “Seattle Field Office.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, I think so too. Anyway, we got shot by some cultists we were investigating. No big deal, you know. Another day at work.”
“That sounds like an incredibly dangerous line of work,” he says.
“It has its moments,” she replies.
Astra is working hard, trying to get this young, handsome doctor’s attention. But ever since he walked into the bay, his eyes have been fixed on mine. My cheeks are burning with warmth beneath his scrutiny. I’m not used to getting any sort of attention from a man with Astra in the room, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
Astra seems to pick up on it though, because she nudges me in the ribs with her elbow and makes a goofy face at me when the doctor’s back is turned. She flicks her eyes to him and mouths the words, “go for it.” I have to bite back the girlish squeal in my throat and take a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
“Remove your shirt please?” Doctor Mark asks.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she purrs.
That finally cracks the façade, and he laughs along with her. His laugh really brightens up his face and makes him look like a boy. He just has this wholesome look about him that I find really appealing. Astra slips out of her shirt and Doctor Mark leans forward, gently peeling back the bandage, then studies the wound underneath. He’s apparently pleased with what he sees because he gives her a smile.
“Looks like you’re healing up just fine,” he says. “You’ll probably have a pretty cool scar to show off to the guys.”
“I’m counting on it,” she says.
He cleans out the wound again and packs with antibiotic salve. With that done, he starts to dress the wound. And all the while, he keeps looking up at me and smiling. I’m absolutely not good with flirting. I don’t know what to do. Do I smile? Do I try to make conversation? Do I just whip out my breasts like Astra does? What do I do?
Once he has a new bandage on her wound, Doctor Mark makes a few notations on the chart, and I can tell he’s getting ready to go, which is unfortunate. I probably won’t see him after he walks out of the bay and we go our separate ways.
“Hey, Doctor Mark,” Astra says. “My good friend Blake here is totally single.”
He laughs and I see spots of color bloom in his cheeks. “Is that so?”
“Totally so,” she presses. “And she’s actually not doing anything tonight.”
“Astra!” I gasp.
She and Doctor Mark both share a laugh with each other at my expense. But then he turns to me and gives me a smile that sends a funny fluttering through my belly, then travels lower still.
“Coincidentally, I’m not doing anything tonight either,” he says. “So how about we do nothing together?”
My jaw falls open, and I gape at him like an idiot. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Doctor Mark would ask me out when Astra is in the room is unreal to me. I subtly look around for the cameras, sure I’m being Punk’d. But there are no cameras. Just a gorgeous man looking me, waiting for an answer. Astra nudges me in the ribs, prodding me along to make a decision.
“Umm… well…”
“She’d love to go,” Astra finally says for me. “She’d really, really love to go.”
“Great. Then I can pick you up around seven?”
“I… I mean, we…
“Yes. She thinks seven would be fantastic,” Astra says.
“It’s amazing,” he says to me. “I can’t even see your lips moving.”
I hang my head, my face turning some ungodly shade of red, which makes him laugh as Astra gives me a beaming smile.
“So, will you be bringing your translator with you? he asks.
“I think I’ll be fine by then,” I finally manage to squeak out.
“Excellent,” he says, and puts a card in my hand. “Just text me the details and I’ll pick you up around seven tonight.”
“Great,” I say, feeling shellshocked. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
With a final smile to the both of us, he disappears through the curtain and is gone again, leaving me alone with my humiliation, and a very excited Astra. She takes my hands.
“Girl, it’s time to go shop. We need to doll you up so you can be sure of gettin’ some tonight,” she says.
“I may not want to get some tonight,” I protest.
“Sure you do,” she laughs. “But, whether you’re getting some tonight or not, let’s go get you a new outfit so you’re lookin’ your best when Doctor Hottie shows up. Let me work my magic on you, babe.”
I turn to her and smile. “You really are the greatest friend ever.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Epilogue
Wilder Residence; The Emerald Pines Luxury Apartments, Downtown Seattle
“Hey, come in,” she says.
“Great, thanks.”
I step through the door and see that she’s not dressed. Which is fine. It looks like she got her hair done today, as it seems a bit softer and shinier than it did back at the hospital earlier. If I had to guess, her friend Astra hauled her out for a girl’s day out. A little shopping, a few drinks, a little more shopping, a hair appointment, and judging by Blake’s hands, a mani-pedi.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m running a little bit behind.”
“That’s fine. No problem at all,” I tell her.
“Let me get dressed,” she calls to me as she heads for the bedrooms in the back. “Help yourself to a drink. There’s beer and wine in the fridge, harder stuff in the cabinet above the sink.”
“I think I’ll wait for you to have that drink,” I call after her.
The door in the back closes, and knowing I have limited time, I get moving. Her laptop is sitting open on the dining room table, so I move over to it quickly and am pleased to find that it’s still open and not on the lock screen.
“Thank you for making this part of it simple.”
I quickly start searching her files, opening and dismissing them quickly when I see they have no relevance. I feel the precious seconds ticking by without finding what I’m looking for, or any trace of it. I scroll down to a file marked “Mom and Dad,” and click on it.
The first thing I see are dozens of photographs her parents and family back in Maryland. I click on one and feel a faint smile touch my lips as I look at a probably nine-year-old Blake Wilder. Who knew that such an awkward looking girl would grow up to be a genuinely stunning woman. Her friend Astra is beautiful, don’t get me wrong. But she tries way too hard. Blake, I think, doesn’t know how gorgeous she actually is. And she doesn’t try. At all.
I’ve been watching her for some time now. At first, it was simply a job. This is what I’m being paid to do. I needed to learn everything about her that I could and find a way to ingratiate myself into her life. Mission accomplished. Having fake hospital credentials have come in handy more times than I can count.
But although it started off as just a job, and still is, there’s something about Blake Wilder I find really appealing. There’s something about her I genuinely like. Granted, I only know her from a distance. I don’t know her, know her. But from what I’ve learned of her, even from a distance, she’s… intoxicating. There’s something about her that makes me feel things I’m not accustomed to.
I give myself a little shake and focus on the task at hand. Inside the Mom and Dad folder, I find a subfolder marked with a question mark. I click on it and I see dozens of reports from the NSA the DOJ, and of course, the FBI. A quick perusal shows that most of these seem to be related to the murder of her parents. I can see she’s been trying to work it out for herself over the years.
But judging by the lack activity on these files, most haven’t been opened in several years. I’d say she hit a brick wall. Which is by design, of course. The murder of her parents is to remain a mystery that will never be solved. I personally don’t know much about it, but
I do know that my boss is insistent we keep tabs on Blake to ensure she’s not looking into her family’s case again. Especially now that her star is on the rise in the Bureau. My employer doesn’t want or need the headache.
There’s a one-page text document she wrote out, so I open it up and quickly read the several notes on the page. The one line that stands out to me is, “FBI Dir. looking into same file/case as Mom? Why? What case. Do not have access. Must review Mom’s cases.”
I look and see the note was written down a little more than a year ago. Suffice it to say, she never got the case file, and hasn’t actively worked on the case for a while. Which is a very good thing. At least it is in my opinion, because if my employer got the idea that she was working on her parents’ case again, he might decide it’s time to move on her, and take Blake Wilder off the board. And I don’t want that.
I close everything down and back out of her laptop, then pull out my cellphone and key in a quick message… With target. Not actively looking into problem area. Has not for more than a year. But will remain close to target to ensure initial observations are correct.
Finished with that, I send it away, then delete it from my phone. In my line of work, you can never be too paranoid. And you never, ever take chances. One wrong move and you’re a dead man.
The door in the back opens, and I hear the click clack of her heels as she walks down the hallway and steps back into the living room. She’s dressed in a form fitting blue dress that falls midway down her thigh, has a scoop neckline, and three-quarter sleeves. She’s got on navy heels with black stockings underneath, and the dress itself compliments her figure exquisitely. It shows off the fullness of her breasts and the swell of her hips in the most tantalizing way.
“Wow. Blake. You look… amazing,” I stammer. “Really amazing.”
Her cheeks flush and she looks down. “Thank you,” she says.
“So, shall we go?”
“Absolutely,” she replies. “Let’s go.”