Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  She walked away, aware of all the eyes following her as she moved. The skin on the back of her neck crawled. It was like she could feel every eye on her. She was almost relieved when the elevator doors closed.

  The ride in the elevator seemed to take forever. Quinn closed her eyes and leaned against the back wall. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders in a way that wasn’t typical. Quinn was often stressed, she thrived on stress. But this was different. This wasn’t within her control.

  Control was important to Quinn; she liked to be in control, she liked to be the one in charge. That was why she became a doctor. Quite literally, as a doctor, Quinn held her patients’ lives in her hands. It was a feeling that she deeply respected. Hell, she got off on it just like any other doctor. It was so different from her childhood, the power that it gave her, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. In this moment in her life, when reality decided to interfere only underscored that fact.

  The elevator doors opened. Quinn pushed away from the back wall and made her way out to the corridor. Once again, she could feel eyes all over her. The eyes of the secretaries, the eyes of her fellow doctors, the eyes of the administration staff. She paused outside the door of the chief of surgery’s office, knocking before she entered.

  The secretary looked up and started to smile, but then she recognized Quinn.

  “Good evening, Dr. Naylor. Dr. Thomas will be happy to see you now.”

  Quinn didn’t even bother with a cursory nod. She understood that she had lost respect in the eyes of everyone in the hospital. She simply turned to the closed door of Dr. Thomas’s office and took several steps toward it. But she hesitated just outside the door. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and gathered her confidence. With a deep breath, she walked inside.

  “Good evening, Dr. Naylor.”

  “Dr. Thomas.”

  “If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll be with you in a second.”

  Dr. Thomas was typing on his computer keyboard. He stared at the screen like there was something incredibly important on it, but all Quinn could see was an empty word processing screen. Quinn waited anyway, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk meant for patients awaiting bad news. Or residents also awaiting bad news but for very different reasons.

  Finally, he sat back, crossing his hands over his ample belly. “Dr. Naylor, I won’t beat around the bush here. I’m sure you understand the effect all the press regarding your case is having on the hospital. I’ve heard you’ve lost several patients as a result.”

  “Only one.”

  “One is bad enough.” He leaned forward, his kind eyes moving over her face like a father regarding a young child who’s done something terribly wrong. “We cannot afford to keep you on here at the hospital. It’s hurting our bottom line too much. You know how the hospital board is about the bottom line. I’ve done all I can.”

  “I was told that I would have a few weeks to work this problem out.”

  “Yes, but that was before the press. Have you seen the evening newspaper?”

  “I saw the paper this morning.” Quinn leaned forward a little, drawn by the way he was sitting. Or maybe it was just anxiety burning in her chest, causing her to be unable to sit still. “There was one story hidden in the very back of the paper. I don’t understand why the hospital would have a problem with that.”

  “It’s not the story this morning. It’s the story that appeared this evening. It’s on the front page.” He dug through the pile of files on his desk and pulled out the newsprint. He handed it across to her. “You have to admit that doesn’t look good, Quinn.”

  Quinn accepted the paper and stared at her own face on the front page. It was a picture taken of her for a publicity stunt her father ran a few years ago. It was an unflattering picture, one that she’d never really liked. And there it was again, associated with the biggest nightmare of her life.

  “Local Doctor Accused of Vehicular Manslaughter.”

  That was the headline. Even though it had happened a week ago, and the story had appeared in the paper several times over the past week, this one admitted to the front page along with that horrible, terrible picture. What had changed in the last twelve hours?

  The only thing that had changed, that Quinn knew, was that she had instructed her lawyer to refuse a plea deal the district attorney had sent over. But if that was true, that would mean that the District Attorney’s Office had released a story. What advantage would that give them? Except for the obvious, of course.

  “There’s nothing new in this story. Why does this change things?”

  “It’s on the front page, Dr. Naylor,” Dr. Thomas told her. As if that should be obvious.

  She supposed it should be.

  “So you’re suspending my privileges?”

  “Effective immediately.”

  They weren’t even going to allow her to plead her case. Quinn had worked at this hospital since she was a resident, for more than ten years. Didn’t that deserve a little loyalty? Not to mention the fact she was the best pediatric surgeon currently on staff. What would all her patients do?

  At least the ones that were still loyal to her.

  “And there’s nothing I can do to fight this?”

  “If you go quietly. There might be a chance that they’ll be a place open for you when this is over with.”

  It was an obvious threat. Anger burned in Quinn’s throat. But what could she do?

  She stood, her knees wobbling as they took on her full weight, but she stood steady with confidence. She held out her hand to Dr. Thomas. He looked openly surprised.

  “It was nice working with you, Dr. Thomas.”

  “This doesn’t have to be the end, Quinn.”

  “Why would I want to come back to the hospital that so clearly doesn’t want me?”

  Quinn walked out of the office with her head held high, ignoring the secretary who watched with open curiosity as she left the outer office. She strode with all the confidence she had down to the elevator, determined not to let them see how much this hurt. She was almost to her car before the tears finally started to flow. Being a doctor was all that she had.

  And they had just taken that away.

  She climbed into her car and hid. Tears flowed more freely than they had in her life. She hadn’t even cried this much when Kaden cheated on her. But, again, she had been surprised by Kaden’s treachery. She was surprised by this, despite herself.

  She sat there for a long time in the darkness, holding herself, and letting the tears flow. When she was almost ready to move on, her phone began to ring. Of all the people she expected to be calling—the hospital, a patient’s parents, one of her own parents—she was disappointed to see it was none of them. She didn’t recognize the number but answered in anyway. As a doctor, it was her duty to answer any phone call that came to her phone.

  “Dr. Naylor, this is Calder Obre with Mastiff Security.”

  “This is not a great time.”

  “I apologize for that, Dr. Naylor. But the sooner we get on this, the faster we can get the information you require.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

  Quinn began to laugh. “You have no idea how ridiculous that is.”

  “You don’t drink?”

  “I don’t if your boss told you, but taking a drink from somebody I didn’t know is what started all of this.”

  “I apologize for my tastelessness. What about dinner?”

  Quinn sighed. “Perhaps it would be easier if you just met me at my place.”

  “I can be there in five minutes.”

  He hung up before Quinn could say anything else.

  * * *

  As promised, he was waiting outside her house when she pulled up. He was a rather tall man, slender in that athletic way some men had. He had broad shoulders, a narrow nose, and a wide jaw. And all that hair! He had very long hair that he held back in a simple ponytail at
the base of his neck. It was longer than hers.

  “Mr. Obre?”

  He walked toward her slowly, his body more graceful than a man had a right to be. He didn’t smile, didn’t even look her in the eye. In fact, he seemed to be trying to avoid looking her in the eye.

  “It would be best if we went inside,” he said.

  She nodded, looking over her shoulder at the neighbor’s house. She lived on the outer edge of the city in an area that was not as densely occupied as many of the homes in the more luxurious residential areas. In fact, she only had two neighbors on this street. But she had to agree with him, after what had happened at the hospital. She did not want her neighbors looking at her the same way as her coworkers had.

  Quinn led the way to the front door. She tugged her keys out of her back pocket and unlocked the deadbolt, pushing the heavy door forward, nearly tripping over the threshold. Mr. Obre did nothing to catch her. She glanced back at him, wondering if he was raised in a barn.

  She led the way into the living room, taking a seat on the big, white couch. He didn’t join her. He walked around the room, peering out the windows and through the open threshold into the kitchen. She supposed that had something to do with his security training. Perhaps he was never comfortable in a room unless he knew exactly where all the exits were.

  “So what now?”

  “I understand you’ve already told your story to Durango. But I’d like you to tell it one more time. To me.”

  Quinn looked down at her hands, her thoughts swirling in her tired mind. It’d been a very long day. She really didn’t want to dwell on the ugly night that had brought it all to fruition. But if it helped end this nightmare, she supposed it was worth it.

  She began from the beginning, telling him about the nurse who encouraged her to go to the party, about the doctor she was talking to when someone put a drink in her hand.

  “I only had a few sips. Then I left because it wasn’t the kind of thing I really enjoy.”

  “You don’t attend parties?”

  “I don’t attend parties with that much alcohol being passed around. And I wasn’t really into the other stuff going on.”

  “What other stuff? Illegal drugs?”

  Quinn snorted, staring down at her hands as she wondered what he’d think if she told him the truth, that she’d attended more than a few parties where illegal drugs were on the menu. She’d also attended far too many parties like the one that was happening that night. It was her past that made her uncomfortable with those kinds of parties.

  “It was a bunch of doctors and nurses blowing off steam. And doctors are notoriously unfaithful, if you know what I mean.”

  The curiosity burned out of his eyes. Quinn found that curious. Most men, the moment the idea of sex came up in a conversation would be more curious, not less.

  “I was there because a friend talked me into it, but I only stayed maybe fifteen minutes before I grew too uncomfortable. And, like I said, I only had a sip or two of the drink. I was driving. I know better than to drink when I’m driving.”

  “What happened after you left the party?”

  Quinn shrugged. “My guess is as good as yours.” She gestured around herself at the simple furnishings of her living room. “I walked to my car and then woke up here. That’s all I remember.”

  “Did you walk to your car alone?”

  That was a question no one else had asked. She paused to think about it for a moment, her memory hazy even with those moments. But she did distinctly remember leaving the party alone, but then the impression of someone else floated through her thoughts.

  “I don’t know. It’s possible someone else was there.”

  “Someone, who?”

  She looked up at him, wondering if the man was daft or something. “I told you, I don’t remember.”

  He grew quiet, his gaze moving slowly around the room in a casual sort of way. But it didn’t feel casual. It felt like an accusation. It felt like he was judging her like he was using the appearance of her house as a reason to blame her for something . . . what that something was, she wasn’t sure.

  “Do you want a tour?”

  He ignored her.

  “Does anyone besides you have a key to this house?”

  Quinn smoothed her palms over the thighs of her jeans, growing weary with this interrogation.

  “My gardener has a key to the garage and the shed out back. My maid has keys to everything. But that’s all.”

  “You have a gardener and a maid?”

  Again, that tone of accusation.

  “It’s a big house. It requires more upkeep than I have time for.”

  “You have a busy schedule, being a doctor and all.”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded, his ponytail slipping over one shoulder as he glanced toward the stairs. “And you found yourself in your bedroom the following morning?”

  “I did.”

  “Were you fully dressed, or were you wearing night clothes?”

  No one had asked her that, either. But she found herself wishing someone else—anyone else—had.

  “I was undressed.”

  “What were you wearing?”

  Quinn blushed deeply, her cheeks burning uncomfortably hot. “Nothing,” she said softly.

  “Do you usually sleep in the nude?”

  She jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around her chest. He glanced at her, a slight smile creating the hint of a dimple in one cheek. She hated the way he was looking at her, hated the condescension she felt in that simple gaze.

  Why did he hate her so much?

  “Is this really necessary?”

  “I need to know every detail of what happened that night, Dr. Naylor,” he said coldly. “You don’t know what little thing might have a huge impact on the way I look at the evidence.”

  She tilted her head slightly, studying his face. “Do you often interrogate your clients in this way?”

  “Yes. Always. And before, when I was a cop, it was the same. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  But he was clearly not sorry. That smile was back, and there was no amusement about it.

  “I don’t. I usually sleep in a t-shirt and shorts because I might get called out of bed in the middle of the night to go see to a patient. In fact, I’ve never really slept in the nude.”

  “Never?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  He choked a little, his eyes moving quickly over the length of her. “I assure you, I am far from disappointed.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Will you take me up to your room?”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “It is. I need to see how difficult it would have been for an incapacitated person to make her way to your bed. Or how difficult it would be for a person to carry an unconscious person to the same bed.”

  He was extremely matter of fact. It sent chills up the length of her spine.

  She led the way upstairs, aware of him close behind her. It was a modern colonial style home with a wide hallway at the top of the stairs that led to three large bedrooms. Her bedroom was at the back, sporting huge windows that overlooked her rose garden in the backyard. That was the one thing she’d taken from her childhood when she picked a home of her own, a rose garden. She’d spent many happy hours in the rose garden behind the governor’s mansion when she was a teen. They were the only happy hours she’d spent in that house.

  She opened the door and gestured for him to enter first. The windows were the first thing he saw when he entered the room, the bed to one side and the massive walnut entertainment center to the other were only background noise to that view. She’d had the bathroom and walk-in closet moved when she bought the house in order to have more of that view. The architect she’d hired for the renovations complained that she was throwing off the symmetry of the home, one of the cornerstones of that particular architectural style, but she didn’t care. She loved waking up in the morning and looking down on the rose garden without even
moving.

  She’d never had a man up here. She bought the house after her split from Kaden.

  She didn’t like this man being in here.

  Calder Obre walked around the room, his eyes moving over the furniture, the bed, flicking over them like they didn’t matter. He stood at the windows for a moment, staring down into the yard that was now shrouded in darkness. He seemed to hesitate a second as though there was something about it that bothered him. But then he continued his tour, reaching into the bathroom and flipping on the light, his eyes ticking over her most private space as she wondered if she’d remembered to put away her tampons after using them last week.

  “You don’t have window coverings.”

  “I like to be able to look out the windows without impediment.”

  “You could tint them.”

  “That would block the sunlight.”

  He glanced at her again, again that look of accusation in his eyes. “Anyone could see in.”

  “It’s not a very densely populated part of town. For one of my neighbors to look in, he’d have to stand in my backyard.”

  “What about the gardener?”

  “I’m usually up and dressed before he arrives.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t seem terribly satisfied with her answers. “The man who died,” he said as he continued his survey of the room, “was your fiancé?”

  “Briefly. Yes.”

  “How briefly?”

  Quinn shrugged. “About a month, I think. Maybe a few days longer.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “It was five years ago.”

  “Most people remember how long they were in a relationship.”

  “I remember the relationship, every fucking minute of it.”

  She hadn’t meant to be vulgar, but it was a habit she slipped into anytime she discussed anything that had to do with her father. She had many, many choice words for her father and his associates, including Kaden Woodriff.

  Calder stopped looking around the room and turned to her, looking her in the eye for the first time. He thought she saw a spark of interest there, but couldn’t be sure. His blue-green eyes were nearly impossible to read.