Fancy that. Gunnar had the perfect cover story. He didn’t even have to act. Meeting Tray’s shrewd stare, he sucked his teeth and smirked, “I can do it.”
Confusion lined Tray’s brow and Gunnar inhaled a lungful of air. Did he really want to share all the details with his boss?
“Spill it.”
“I kissed Nadia. At the hospital. In front of Izak.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure it was quite a scene. I bet rumors abound.”
Tray scowled. “You know you can’t have her, even if you do this, right?”
That remains to be seen, his inner bastard taunted. The self-preserving conscientious part of himself simply nodded.
Strong fingers rapped on the desktop. “I’m sorry.” The emotion in Tray’s gaze reflected the depth of his boss’s true regret.
But, it didn’t go as deep as the regret in Gunnar’s own heart.
That shit was vast and profound.
Strangling.
“You and me, both.” Gunnar had a ton of regrets. Though, being sorry for wanting Nadia wasn’t one of them.
“I’ll get the ball rolling and have that ass-wipe released from the hospital. You get a bead on him, figure out what to do next. You’re forgiven in advance for calling me a bastard, otherwise dirtying my name or any other low-balled slander you sling in the name of service.”
Gunnar’s shoulders twitched with a concealed laugh. Carte blanche on the name calling could be a total benefit.
“Get in, get info, and get the hell out.”
“In other words, don’t be lured to the dark-side.”
Tray inclined his head in a regal nod. “You’re the best bodyguard I have.”
With fangs showing, Gunnar smirked. “I’m the only one you have.”
“Yes, that, too.” Tray waved his hand. “We’ve got loads of crap piling up here, so the sooner you have incriminating evidence the better. You do need to check out that latest tip on Davenko before long. I promised my female an update.”
“I’ll do my best,” Gunnar offered, and it was an honest-to-God promise. Except, he wasn’t sure what he was vowing. To find some way to make Nadia his or to do as his boss wanted and find all the dirty details on this so-called uprising.
He was leaning toward Nadia.
Tray settled back in his massive leather chair and grabbed the phone handset. He punched numbers in with quick staccato motions, his face a mask of stoic determination. This whole thing had to be hard for the male. Letting Andros go would take an enormous amount of inner fortitude.
While Tray worked on the discharge issue, Gunnar found his mind wandering. It meandered to his last moments with Nadia, like the gorgeous flush staining her cheeks and the way their bodies fit perfectly. A surge of white hot lightning crashed in his veins, washing through him to settle in his groin. God, he needed some air. He tugged at his collar but the invisible noose tightening around his airway only seemed to grow tighter.
Without excusing himself, he paced the length of the office and slipped into the hall. The streetlights and glow from the high-rise next door shone through the glass windows. As he strode along the highly-polished marble corridor, the motion sensor recessed lighting illuminated his steps. Black and white photos in lacquered frames lined the cream-colored walls in precise linear fashion. Probably Ivan’s doing.
He passed the familiar photographs right before the turn to the bathroom. As he took another step, he found himself jolted to a sudden stop, his stare zeroing in on a particular photograph. He’d seen it countless times, and had only registered some French dude had taken the picture. This time, he looked closer. Introspection never was his strong suit. He acted before thinking more times than not. Except, this picture oozed love and romance. It was like a bull’s eye on his chest, right above his heart. A reminder of things he wanted. Of a female he wanted to hold around her delicate neck, dip back until she leaned fully into his shoulder, and then kiss.
Abandoned to everything all around them, they would lose themselves in the intimacy.
A long sigh fizzled through his chest. He blinked, breaking the spell, and headed into the bathroom.
Cold water splashed onto his face only helped a little and he repeated the process, watching in the mirror as the little droplets rolled off his chin. He braced his hands on either side of the porcelain sink clenching them hard. He locked his elbows and dropped his head. Licking his lips, he tasted the coppery tinge of blood. Apparently, he’d speared through his lip with a fang. Great! Maybe the pain would reboot his frickin’ brain.
But, when he straightened and hovered his hand in front of the automatic paper towel dispenser, he still felt the exact same. Lost. Needy. Hungry.
He craved Nadia, in more ways than just the necessary blood hunger.
Before he could think about what he was doing, he jammed his hand into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He’d asked her for her number. You know, just to be able to contact her if need be. In an emergency. Or, information gathering.
If, he just wanted to hear her voice.
The call connected. It rang.
An electronic woman’s voice came across the line instructing him to wait as the party was being reached. Classical music played in a tinny, high octave. His heart pounded and the tension in his throat threatened to render him mute, so he swallowed and forced himself to put oxygen into his respiratory system. What if she didn’t answer? Did he leave a message or hang up?
Decisions, decisions.
Thirty seconds past and Nadia’s voice came through on the line. Chirpy, friendly, recorded.
He hung up. ’Cause that was the smart thing to do when pining over a forbidden female.
After exiting the restroom, Gunnar headed back to Tray’s office. Time to plan his strategy and figure out a way to become besties with Andros so the male could betray the supposed uprising. Then, the kraliyet could crush the rebellion and get on with whatever else was of importance to them.
Gunnar already knew what was important to him.
It wasn’t going to be hard to pretend that he wanted to find some way to buck the system. That system was keeping his mate from him through legislation and tradition. Though, he’d vowed to uphold all those laws and support the rituals of the Kan Asma, part of him wanted to know exactly what the rebels thought they could do, so he could exploit it for his own purposes.
As he strode into the sprawling office, he shackled any of those insane thoughts and turned his mind to his job. Thankfully, Tray was ready and waiting.
“Andros will be out after midnight. Get a tail on him, watch him closely, and report back on your findings, but be careful. Kartal wants to take them down with the full extent of our customs and regulation.” He pointed an aristocratic finger at Gunnar in a warning. “So, no heroics. I don’t want you in the hospital again with even worse injuries.”
Hard to imagine something worse than being blown up but Gunnar nodded. “I’ll be on the up and up.”
“Get evidence as best you can. Photos and videos would be ideal but I know that might prove difficult.” Tray’s lips pursed. “If it’s a legit uprising, someone’s got to be fronting it. We want the top. The head of any movements. The peons don’t matter.”
Gunnar tipped his head and stared hard at Tray. “And if Andros isn’t the leader?”
The evil glint in his boss’ eyes was enough of a tell that he didn’t have to say anything. Yup, violence was Tray’s second nature. All that deadly, lethal power had to be channeled somewhere, and Andros still had a target tagged right to his chest. “Okay then.” Gunnar mock saluted Tray. “Got my orders.”
“That you do.” Tray swiped his finger across the shiny edge of his desk and a fuzzy swirl shimmered waking the built-in computer screen. He tapped an icon and brought forward a page full of documents. He double tapped a folder titled Davenko, which possessed the MIAs’ details and in a few seconds had it attached to an email. After typing out a brief message, he hit send and minimized the screen. “M
ikhail’s bored with his coddled life. I think he should put his Russian to good use. Email what you’ve got on the Davenko case and I’ll manipulate my brother into doing some intel for us. Maybe get a little closer to an answer while you are infiltrating.”
Gunnar snorted and rolled his eyes. “’Bout time that lazy ass did something beyond lounge around and be petted.”
“Komutani’s been saying the same thing for decades.” Tray closed the file and set it aside. “Really, be careful out there. I mean that, friend to friend.”
Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow. “Aw, don’t I feel appreciated now.”
“Always.”
Before the warm fuzzies could prod him to do something sissy-like and hug his boss or smack his back in male camaraderie, a vibration against his thigh diverted him. Once he pulled the phone out, he searched the notification panel. It was a text, from Nadia.
W/ patient. Call soon.
His hand shook as he re-read her message. Three times.
Keeping his face a perfect inscrutable mask, he glanced at his boss and inclined his head as propriety dictated he excuse himself. Tray simply waved him off and got back to work as Gunnar left the office and headed to his own little cubicle. He needed to get the hell out of the vicinity so he could be ready for her call.
Just to hear her voice and assure yourself she’s fine, he warned himself.
And to ask her to see you again, the lovesick male within his psyche added.
Chapter Ten
Pay attention, Nadia, she coached herself as she pumped the air into the blood pressure cuff while taking a patient’s vitals. It was a smidge hard concentrating when all she wanted to do was find a private place to call Gunnar back. All her thoughts swirled together as she considered what he might want and why he’d called her. Though, he hadn’t left a message. What if he’d just butt dialed her or selected her number by accident? Disappointment, for sure.
The numbers on the digital display flashed, the tiny heart symbol beat along with the patient’s pulse rate. For a second time, she lost track of the quick cadence. She gave the female a commiserating smile and repositioned her fingertips on the patient’s thin wrist. Concentrating harder this time, she felt for the thrumming rush against her fingers and counted. It was much higher than normal. Making the notation in the chart, she scribbled the rest of the vital information down and tucked the cuff back into the little cart.
“Follow me this way.” She led the female through a short hall to an exam room. Going through the motions, she set the gown on the little cot and gave the appropriate instructions. As soon as she left the room, Nadia rushed into the supply closet and yanked her phone out of her scrub pocket. Her hands shook as her thumb paused over Gunnar’s number. She debated the positives and negatives regarding actually calling him. What if he didn’t answer? What if there was that awkward silence where he tried to be congenial but didn’t really want to speak? What if…
What if he did want to talk to her?
She shook her head, her long braid brushing her shoulders with the motion. No more what ifs. She could do this. She wanted to.
Taking in a big breath, she tapped Gunnar’s number and brought the phone to her ear. A prick of pain at her cheek stung as she bit into the flesh to calm her nerves.
It rang.
Rang.
Another.
“Nadia.”
She closed her eyes. His voice washed over her, that rich and deep inflection made her shiver. “Hi,” she managed to say.
Silence.
A lump formed in her throat. Breathe. “You called,” she prompted.
“Yes. I just…” Long pause, his breath fanned out and echoed through the phone. “Look, I want to see you, again. Yeah. I have to see you again. Shit.” Another breath and mumbled Turkish curses.
“I do, too.” She backed up and leaned against the cool, brick wall. “I mean, I want to see you, too.”
“What about tonight?” His pitch had lowered. Accents clipped, sexy.
“I’m off a little before sunrise.” Damn, so much for getting to see him right away. “Actually, I have a break coming up.” She didn’t really but she could probably arrange something. “Could you do a quarter after three?”
“Just tell me where.”
“The Grinder.” It was the only coffee shop close to the hospital that would be open in the middle of the night. Also, the Kan Asma didn’t run it, so there’d be a good chance it wouldn’t be too busy or full of people from their community making it almost anonymous.
“I’ll be there.” She heard a thread of excitement in his voice.
“Me too.” God, could she be any sillier? Of course, she was going to be there. She looked down at her feet; the big white nursing shoes looked like boats. Her wrinkled lavender scrubs made her figure boxy and the total opposite of sexy. Right, this is exactly what she envisioned when she’d be meeting him again. Perhaps she could camouflage the nursing duds with her cardigan…the one that still had his scent on it.
“Are you okay?” Gunnar’s question sounded genuine.
“Yup.” She smiled as she replied even though he couldn’t see it. “A bit overworked. We’ve had a few younglings born within the same twenty-four-hour period.” Each of those babies had come into the world screaming and squirmy. All of them male. Only one of them came from the upper class. That family lounged together in the “penthouse suite” where they had a monstrous television, catered dining, fluffy, down comforter, and all the luxuries that money could afford. Funny, the new mothers all seemed the same, tired yet elated. It didn’t matter if you could afford the world; giving birth was hard work even across the financial spectrum.
Things had sure changed since they’d left Abkhazia. Most of the younglings born within their tiny village were delivered by midwife and at home. If the mother and child survived, the joyous occasions were celebrated with intense rituals and tribal ceremony. Only the kraliyet seemed to celebrate those rites anymore. Everyone else left the hospital and went home to their meager existences. Nadia would want to christen her child with the feathered arrows and golden coins indicative of their people. It was something to rejoice, to commemorate. To remember.
“That’s a feat for such a small facility,” Gunnar replied, his tone full of awe.
Could you be anymore obtuse, Nadia? He’s a warrior, he doesn’t want to know about birthing babies. Sheesh. “Dominic’s good at what he does.”
Gunnar chuckled, the laugh was a low baritone, rumbly and masculine. “Helps to have a híbe that’s specific to healing. Though, he’s got nothing going in the bedside manner department. Guess they skipped that in his medical training courses.”
Nadia giggled. So true, Dominic did have a bit of a rough side. A vibration at her hip warned she was being summoned by said doctor. She licked her lips and bit into her inner cheek. She just wanted to keep talking to Gunnar. Forget work. Forget patients. Forget everything but him. “I gotta go. Work beckons.” She cleared her throat, fighting the tightness forming there.
“Me too.” Gunnar sighed. “I get the whole autocratic boss thing, mine ranks right up there with the best.”
Nadia recalled her brief exchange with Traian. He had those penetrating eyes that saw right through everything to expose the deepest darkest part of you, but he never said anything. It was simply written on the austere features of his face. He knew before Nadia glared at him that she would’ve remained in that bed, curled up right next to Gunnar if he hadn’t intervened. Things would’ve ended up really different if Traian hadn’t arrived. She would’ve let Gunnar take her vein. She’d let Gunnar do anything.
Instead, mortification speared through her gut and apprehension for her reputation drove her to follow Traian’s instructions. The whole time, though, the male hadn’t looked on her with judgment or censure. No, there was something more, like a commiseration. “Mr. Komar’s not that bad.” After all, he hadn’t got her fired.
“Nah, I believe h
e’s the least hard-nosed of the males in that family. Can’t imagine the nightmare of working for his brother.”
No one had to say which brother. Ivan Komar. Ugg, totally powerful, completely tyrannical. At least that was what the low class said about him behind his perfectly straight, precisely rigid back. “Agreed.” Nadia frowned as the pager vibrated again. “I really have to go. See you a bit after three?”
“I’m counting the minutes.”
“I bet there’s a lot.” Stop talking, Nadia!
“Too many.” Obviously, he didn’t want to hang up either.
“Bye,” she whispered.
“Bye, kjaere.”
God, she loved the way he said that.
She forced herself to press End. Heading back to her waiting patient’s room, she hurried on light feet. Until three a.m. arrived, she’d throw herself full force into work, that way she’d not be sitting there counting the minutes until she saw him again.
∙•∙
One hundred, ninety-five minutes and twenty-two seconds later, Gunnar arrived at the café. He’d flashed himself to the darkened area behind the lot, hoping no one would see his sudden teleportation. A quick glance around the shadowed space near the padlocked garbage bin proved the right choice. Not a soul in sight. Apprehension simmered in his gut and he brought his hand up to his freshly shaved hair. The barber had been correct; the cement-like gel did work magic, keeping the spiky cut of his flat-top in perfect shape despite the gale force winds of teleportation. His choice of hairstyle didn’t conform to the typical way Kan Asma males wore their hair. He hated dealing with the long locks and girlie waves, so buzzing it to practically zero fade worked for him. Then again, patience wasn’t his strong suit.
There hadn’t been much time for him to change into something more casual. Tonight, he wore business attire only because the Kartal had called a last-minute shindig and one did not show up to Ivan’s meetings wearing denim. Making sure his button-down shirt was still tucked in, he straightened his tie and rolled his shoulders attempting to loosen the strain taking up residence between his shoulder blades. God, was he actually nervous to see her?
Mated in Treason Page 12